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.  
 printer's device (McKerrow 311) NOLI ALTVM SAPERE  
LONDON, Printed for Edward blunt.  
1620.   

TO THE RIGHT honourable, GEORGE marquis Buckingham, Viscount VILLIERS, Baron of Whaddon, Lord High admiral of England; Iustice in Eyre of all his majesties Forrests, parks, and chaces beyond Trent, Master of the Horse to his majesty, and one of the Gentlemen of his majesties Bed-chamber, Knight of the most noble Order of the Garter, and one of his majesties most Honourable privy counsel of England and Scotland.  
Right Noble Lord,  
your humble seruant hath observed in the multitude of books that haue past his hands, no small variety of Dedications; and those severally sorted to their Presenters ends: Some, for the mere ambition of Great names; Others, for the desire, or need of Protection; Many, to win Friends, and so favour, and opinion; but Most, for the more sordid respect, gain. This humbly offers into your Lo: presence, with none of these deformities: But as a bashful stranger, newly arrived in English, having originally had the fortune to be born commended to a Grande of spain; and, by the way of translation, the grace to kiss the hands of a great lady of France, could not despair of less courtesy in the Court of Great britain, then to bee received of your Lo: delight; his study being to sweeten those short starts of your retirement from public affairs, which so many, so unseasonably, even to molestation trouble.  
By him who most truly honours, and humbly professes all duties to your Lordship. Ed: blunt.   

THE authors prologue TO THE READER.  
NOw God defend! Reader, Noble or Plebeyan, what ere thou art: how earnestly must thou needs by this time expect this Prologue, supposing that thou must find in it nothing but reuenge, brawling, and railing vpon the author of the second Don Quixote, of whom I onely say as others say, that he was begot in Tordesillas, and born in Tarragona? the truth is, herein I mean not to give thee content. Let it be never so general a rule, that injuries awaken and rouse up choler in humble breasts, yet in mine must this rule admit an exception: Thou, it may be, wouldst haue me be-Asse him, be-madman him, and be-foole him, but no such matter can enter into my thought; no, let his own rod whip him; as he hath brewed, so let him bake; else where he shall haue it: and yet there is somewhat which I cannot but resent, and that is, that he exprobrates unto me my age, and my 
He lost one of his hands.  maim, as if it had been in my power, to hold Time back, that so it should not pass vpon me, or if my maim had befallen me in a tavern, and not vpon the most famous 
At the battle of Lepanto.  occasion which either the ages past or present haue seen, nor may the times to come look for the like: If my wounds shine not in the eyes of such as behold them; yet shall they be esteemed at least in the iudgement of such as know how they were gotten. A soldier had rather be dead in the battle, then free by running away: and so is it with me, that should men set before me and facilitate an impossibility, I should rather haue desired to haue been in that prodigious action; then now to bee in a whole skin, free from my scars, for not having been in it. The scars which a soldier shows in his face and breast, are stars which lead others to the heaven of Honor,& to the desire of just praise: and besides it may be noted, that it is not so much mens pens which writ, as their judgements; and these use to be bettered with yeeres. Nor am I insensible of his calling me envious, and describing me as an ignorant. What envy may be, I vow seriously, that of those two sorts, that are; I skill not but of that Holy, Noble, and ingenuons envy, which being so, as it is, I haue no meaning to abuse any Priest; especially, if he hath annexed unto him the Title of FAMILIAR of the Inquisition: and if he said so, as it seems by this second Author, that he did, he is utterly deceived: For I adore his wit, admire his works, and his continual virtuous employment; and yet in effect I cannot but thank this sweet signior Author, for saying that my Nouelles are more tissic, then Exemplar; and that yet they are good, which they could not be, were they not so quiter thorough. It seems, thou tellest me, that I writ somewhat limited, and obscurely, and contain myself within the bounds of my modesty, as knowing, that a man ought not add misery to him that is afflicted, which doubtless must needs be very great in this signior, since he dares not appear in open field, in the light, but conceals his Name, feigns his country, as if he had committed some Treason against his King. Well, if thou chance to light vpon him, and know him, tell him from me, that I hold myself no whit aggrieved at him: for I well know what the temptations of the divell are; and one of the greatest is, when he puts into a mans head, that he is able to compose and print a book, whereby he shall gain as much famed as money, and and as much money as famed. For confirmation hereof, I entreat thee, when thou art disposed to be merry and pleasant, to tell him this Tale.  
There was a Mad-man in seville, which hit vpon one of the prettiest absurd tricks that ever mad-man in this world lighted on, which was: he made him a Cane sharp at one end, and then catching a dog in the street, or elsewhere, he held fast one of the Dogges legs under his foot, and the other he held up with his hand. Then fitting his Cane as well as he could, behind, he fell a blowing till he made the dog as round as a Ball: and then, holding him still in the same manner, he gave him two clappes with his hand on the belly, and so let him go, Saying to those which stood by( which always were many) how think you, my Masters, Is it a small matter to blow up a dog like a Bladder? and how think you, Is it a small labour to make a book? If this Tale should not fit him: then, good Reader, tell him this other; for this also is of a Mad-man and a Dog. In Cordoua was another Mad-man, which was wont to carry on the top of his head, a huge piece of Marble, not of the lightest, who meeting a masterless dog, would stalk up close to him: and on a sudden, down with his burden vpon him: the dog would presently yearn, and barking and yelling run away, three streets could not hold him. It fell out afterwards among other Dogges( vpon whom he let fall his load) there was a Cappers dog, which his Master made great account of, vpon whom he let down his great ston, and took him full on the head: the poor battered cur cries pitifully. His Master spies it, and affencted with it, gets a meat-yard, assaults the mad-man, and leaves him not a whole bone in his skin; and at every blow that he gave him, he cries out, Thou dog, Thou thief, my spaniel! sawst thou not, thou cruel villain, that my dog was a spaniel? And ever and anon repeating still his spaniel, he sent away the Mad-man all black and blue. The Mad-man was terribly skarred herewith, but got away, and for more then a month after never came abroad: At last out he comes with his invention again, and a bigger load then before: and coming where the dog stood, viewing him over and over again very heedily; he had no mind, he durst not let go the ston, but onely said, Take heed, this is a spaniel. In fine, whatsoever Dogges he met, though they were Mastifs or Fysting-Hounds, he still said they were Spaniels. So that after that, he never durst throw his great ston any more. And who knows but the same may befall this our Historian, that he will no more let fall the prise of his wit in books? for in being nought, they are harder then rocks: tell him too, that for his menacing, that with his book he will take away all my gain; I care not a straw for him: but betaking myself to the famous Interlude of Perendenga: I answer him, Let the Old man my Master live, and Christ bee with us all. Long live the great Conde de Lemos( whose Christianity and well-knowne liberality against all the blows of my short fortune, keeps me on foot) and long live that eminent charity of the cardinal of Toledo, Don Bernardo de Sandoual y Rojas. Were there no printing in the world, or were there as many books printed against me, as there are letters in the rhymes of Mingo Revulgo; these two Princes, without any solicitation of flattery, or any other kind of applause, of their sole bounty haue taken vpon them to do me good, and to favour me; wherein I account myself more happy and rich, then if fortune, by some other ordinary way, had raised me to her highest: Honour, a poor man may haue it, but a Vicious man cannot: poverty may cast a mist vpon nobleness, but cannot altogether obscure it: but as the glimmering of any light of itself, though but thorough narrow chinks and Cranyes, comes to be esteemed by high and Noble spirits, and consequently favoured. Say no more to him; nor will I say any more to thee: but onely advertise that thou consider, that this Second part of Don Quixote, which I offer thee, is framed by the same Art, and cut out of the same cloth that the first was: in it I present thee with Don Quixote enlarged,& at last dead and butted, that so no man presume to raise any farther reports of him; those that are past are enough: and let it suffice that an honest man may haue given notice of these discreet follies, with purpose not to enter into them any more. For plenty of any thing, though never so good, makes it less esteemed: and scarcity( though of evil things) makes them somewhat accounted of. I forgot to tell thee that thou mayst expect Persiles, which I am now about to finish; as also the Second part of Galatea.   

A SVMMARY TABLE of that, which this second part of the famous History of the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha doth contain.  

CHAP. 1. HOw the Vicar and the Barber passed their time with Don Quixote, touching his infirmity.  
Chap. 2. Of the notable fray that Sancho Pansa had with the niece& the old Woman, and other delightful passages.  
Chap. 3. The ridiculous discourse that passed betwixt Don Quixote, Sancho, and the Bachelor Samson Carrasco.  
Chap. 4. How Sancho Pansa satisfies the Bachelor Samson Carrasco's doubts and demands; with other accidents worthy to be known and related.  
Chap. 5. Of the wise and pleasant discourse, that passed betwixt Sancho Pansa and his wife Teresa Pansa, and other accidents worthy of happy remembrance.  
Chap. 6. What passed betwixt Don Quixote, his niece, and the old Woman: and it is one of the most material Chapters in all the History.  
Chap. 7. What passed betwixt Don Quixote and his Squire, with other famous accidents.  
Chap. 8. What befell Don Quixote, going to see his Mistris Dulcinea deal Toboso.  
Chap. 9. Where is set down as followeth.  
Chap. 10. How Sancho cunningly enchanted the Lady Dulcinea, and other successses, as ridiculous as true.  
Chap. 11. Of the strange adventure that befell Don Quixote, with the Cart or wagon of the Parliament of Death.  
Chap. 12. Of the rare adventure that befell Don Quixote, with the Knight of the Looking-Glasses.  
Chap. 13. Where the adventure of the Knight of the Wood is prosecuted, with the discreet, rare, and sweet Colloquy, that passed betwixt the two Squires.  
Chap. 14. How the adventure of the Knight of the Wood is prosecuted.  
Chap. 15. Who the Knight of the Looking-glasses and his Squire were.  
Chap. 16. What befell Don Quixote with a discreet Gentleman of Mancha.  
Chap. 17. Where is shewed the last and extremest hazard, to which the unheard of courage of Don Quixote did or could arrive, with the prosperous accomplishment of the adventure of the lions.  
Chap. 18. What happened to Don Quixote in the Castle, or Knight of the green cassock his house, with other extravagant matters.  
Chap. 19. Of the adventure of the enamoured shepherd, with other, indeed, pleasant Accidents.  
Chap. 20. Of the Marriage of the rich Camacho, and the success of poor Basilius.  
Chap. 21. Of the prosecution of Camacho's marriage, with other delightful accidents.  
Chap. 22. Of the famous adventure of Montesino's cave, which is in the heart of Mancha, which the valorous Don Quixote happily accomplished,  
Chap. 23. Of the admirable things, that the vnapparalel'd Don Quixote recounted, which he had seen in Montesino's profound cave, whose strangeness and impossibility makes this Chapter to be held for Apocrypha.  
Chap. 24 Where are recounted a thousand flim-flams, as impertinent, as necessary to the understanding of this famous History.  
Chap. 25. Of the adventure of the Braying, and the merry one of the Puppet-man, with the memorable soothsaying of the prophesying Ape.  
Chap. 26. Of the delightful passage of the Puppet-play, and other pleasant matters.  
Chap. 27. Who Master Peter and his Ape were, with the ill success that Don Quixote had in the adventure of the Braying, which ended not so well, at he would, or thought for.  
Chap. 28. Of the things that Benengeli relates, which he that reads shall know, if he read them with attention.  
Chap. 29. Of the famous adventure of the Enchanted bark.  
Cha. 30. What happened to Don Quixote with the faire Huntresse.  
Chap. 31. That treats of many and great affairs.  
Chap. 32. of Don Quixotes answer to his Reprehender, with other successses as wise as witty.  
Chap. 33. Of the wholesome discourse that passed betwixt the duchess and her Damozels with Sancho Pansa, worthy to be red and noted.  
Chap. 34. How notice is given for the dis-enchanting of the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso, which is one of the most famous adventures in all this book.  
Chap. 35. Where is prosecuted the notice that Don Quixote had, of dis-enchanting Dulcinea, with other admirable accidents.  
Chap. 36. Of the strange and vnimagined adventure of the afflicted Matron, alias, the countess Trifaldi, with a letter that Sancho Pansa wrote to his wife Teresa Pansa.  
Chap. 37. Of the Prosecution of the famous adventure of the Afflicted Matron.  
Chap. 38. The Afflicted Matron recounts her ill Errantry.  
Chap. 39. Where the Trifaldi prosecutes her stupendious and memorable History.  
Chap. 40. Of matters that touch and pertain to this adventure, and most memorable History.  
Chap. 41. Of Clauilenos arrival, with the end of this dilated adventure.  
Chap. 42. Of the advice that Don Quixote gave Sancho Pansa, before he should go to govern the island, with other matter well digested.  
Chap. 43. Of the second advice that Don Quixote gave Sancho Pansa.  
Chap. 44. How Sancho Pansa was carried to his government,& of the strange adventure that befell Don Quixote in the Castle.  
Chap. 45. How the Grand Sancho Pansa took possession of his island, and the manner of his beginning to govern.  
Ch. 46. Of the fearful Low-Bell-Cally horror that Don Quixote received in process of his love, by the enamoured Altisidora.  
Chap. 47. How Sancho demeaned himself in his government.  
Chap. 48. What happened to Don Quixote with Donna Rodriguez, the Duchesses waiting-woman; with other successses, worthy to be written, and had in eternal remembrance.  
Ch. 49. What happened to Sancho in walking the Round in his island.  
Ch. 50. Where is declared, who were the Enchanters and Executioners, that whipped the Matron, pinched and scracht Don Quixote, with the success the page. had that carried the Letter to Teresa Pansa, Sancho's wife.  
Chap. 51. Of Sancho's proceeding in his government, with other successses, as good as Touch.  
Chap. 52. The adventure of the second Afflicted or straightened Matron, alias, Donna Rodriguez.  
Chap. 53. Of the troublesone end and upshot that Sancho Pansa's government had.  
Chap. 54. That treats of matters concerning this History, and no other.  
Chap. 55. Of matters that befell Sancho by the way, and others the best in the world.  
Chap. 56. Of the unmerciful and never seen battle that passed between Don Quixote and the Lackey Tosilos, in defence of the Matron Donna Rodriguez Daughter.  
Chap. 57. How Don Quixote took his leave of the Duke, and what befell him with the witty wanton Altisidora, the Duchesses damosel.  
Chap 58. Of adventures that came so thick and threefold on Don Quixote, that they give no respite one to the other.  
Chap. 59. Of an extraordinary accident that befell Don Quixote, which may be held for an adventure.  
Chap. 60. What happened to Don Quixote going to Barselona.  
Chap. 61. What happened to Don Quixote at his entrance into Barselona, with other events more true, then witty.  
Chap. 62. The adventure of the Enchanted head, with other flim-flams that must be recounted.  
Chap. 63. Of the ill chance that befell Sancho at his seeing the Gallies, with the strange adventure of the Morisca.  
Chap. 64. Of an adventure that most perplexed Don Quixote, of any that hitherto befell him.  
Chap. 65. Who the Knight of the White moon was, with Don Gregorio's liberty, and other passages.  
Chap. 66. That treats of what the Reader shall see, and he that hearkens hear.  
Chap. 67. Of the resolution Don Quixote had to turn shepherd, and to led a Country life, whilst the promise for his year was expired, with other accidents truly good,& savoury.  
Chap. 68. Of the Bristled adventure that befell Don Quixote.  
Chap. 69. Of the newest and strangest adventure, that in all the course of this History befell Don Quixote.  
Chap. 70. Of diuers rare things, which serve for the better illustration and cleared of this History.  
Chap. 71. Of what befell Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho Pansa, in their travel towards their Village.  
Chap. 72. How Don Quixote and Sancho arrived at their Village.  
Chap. 73. Of the presages and fore-boadings, which happened to Don Quixote, at the entrance into his Village; with other adventures, which serve for grace and ornament unto this famous History, and which give credit unto it.  
Chap. 74. How Don Quixote fell sick: of the Will he made, and of his death.    

ERRATA.  
page. 4. line 22. for of a brief tale, red a brief tale, p. 12. l. 16. for slight, r. flight. Ibid. l. 22. for at it were. r. as it were. p. 40. l. 5. for reduct, r. reduced. p. 65. l. 10. for direct, r. diuers. p. 77. l. 35. for Don Quixote, r. Sancho. p. 78. l 31. for you, r. your. Ibid. l. 33. for like no unfortunate, r. not like me unfortunate. p. 106. l. 34. for Branados, r. Brauados. p. 156. l. 29. deleeue, r. beleeue. p. 173. l. 24. for out by, r. out Boy. p. 281. l. 9. for not to be, r. to be. p. 229. l. 1. for former, r. Farmer. pag. 410. l. 26. for Rogue, r. Roque.   

THE SECOND PART Of Don Quixote.  

CHAP. I.  
How the Vicar and the Barber passed their time with Don Quixote, touching his infirmity.  
CID Hamet Benengeli tells us in the second part of this History, and Don Quixote his third sally, that the Vicar and Barber were almost a whole month without seeing him, because they would not renew and bring to his remembrance things done and past. Notwithstanding, they forbore not to visit his niece and the old woman, charging them they should bee careful to cherish him, and to give him comforting meats to eat, good for his heart and brain, from whence in likeli-hood all his ill proceeded. They answered, that they did so, and would do it with all possible love and care: For they perceived that their Master continually gave signs of being in his entire iudgement; at which the two received great ioy, and thought they took the right course, when they brought him enchanted in the Oxe-Waine( as hath been declared in the first part of this so famous, as punctual History.) So they determined to visit him, and make some trial of his amendment, which they thought was impossible; and agreed not to touch vpon any point of Knight Errantry; because they would not endanger the ripping up of a sore, whose stitches made it yet tender.  
At length they visited him, whom they found set up in his bed, clad in a Waste-coat of green bays, on his head a read Toledo bonnet, so dried and withered up, as if his flesh had been mommied. He welcomed them,& they asked him touching his health: of it and himself he gave them good account, with much iudgement and elegant phrase, and in process of discourse, they fell into State-matters, and manner of government, correcting this abuse, and condemning that; reforming one custom, and rejecting another; each of the three making himself a new Law-maker, a modern Lycurgus, and a spicke and span new Solon; and they so refined the Common-wealth, as if they had clapped it into a forge, and drawn it out in another fashion then they had put it in. Don Quixote in all was so discreet, that the two Examinants undoubtedly believed, he was quiter well, and in his right mind. The niece and the old woman were present at this discourse, and could never give God thankes enough, when they saw their Master with so good understanding: But the Vicar changing his first intent, which was, not to meddle in matters of cavalry, would now make a thorough trial of Don Quixotes perfect recovery; and so now and then tells him news from Court, and amongst others, that it was given out for certain, that the turk was come down with a powerful Army, that his design was not known, nor where such a cloud would discharge itself: and that all christendom was affrighted with this terror he puts us in with his yearly alarm: Likewise, that his majesty had made strong the coasts of Naples, sicily, and Malta. To this( said Don Quixote) his majesty hath done like a most politic Warrior, in looking to his Dominions in time, lest the enemy might take him at unawares: but if my counsel might prevail, I would aduise him to use a prevention, which he is far from thinking on at present. The Vicar scarce heard this, when he thought with himself; God defend thee, poor Don Quixote: for me thinks thou fallest headlong from the high top of thy madness, into the profound bottom of thy simplicity. But the Barber presently being of the Vicars mind, asks Don Quixote what advice it was he would give? for peradventure( said he) it is such an one as may bee put in the roll of those many idle ones that are usually given to Princes. Mine, Good-man Shauer( quoth Don Quixote) is no such. I spoken not to that intent( replied the Barber) but that it is commonly seen, that all or the most of your projects that are given to his majesty, are either impossible, or frivolous, either in detriment of the King or kingdom. Well, mine( quoth Don Quixote) is neither impossible, nor frivolous; but the plainest, the justest, the most manageable and compendious, that may bee contained in the thought of any Proiectour. You are long a telling us it, Mr. Don Quixote, said the Vicar. I would not( replied he) tell it you here now, that it should bee early to morrow in the ears of some privy counsellor, and that another should reap the praise and reward of my labour. For me( quoth the Barber) I pass my word, here and before God, to tell neither King nor Keisar, nor any earthly man what you say: an oath I learnt out of the Ballad of the Vicar, in the Preface whereof he  told the King of the thief that robbed him of his two hundred double pistolets, and his gadding mule. I know not your histories( said Don Quixote) but I presume the oath is good, because I know Mr. Barber is an honest man. If he were not( said the Vicar) I would make it good, and undertake for him, that he shall be dumb in this business, under pain of excommunication. And who shall undertake for you, Mr. Vicar,( quoth Don Quixote?) My profession( answered he) which is to keep counsel. Body of me,( said Don Quixote) is there any more to be done then, but that the King cause proclamation to bee made, that at a prefixed day, all the Knights errand that rove up and down spain, repair to the Court? and if there came but half a dozen, yet such an one there might bee amongst them, as would destroy all the Turkes power. hearken to me, Hoe, and let me take you with me: do ye think it is strange, that one Knight errand should conquer an army of two hundred thousand fighting men, as if all together had but one throat, or were made of sugar-pellets? But tell me, how many stories are full of those maruels? You should haue brave Don Belianis alive now, with a pox to me, for Ile curse no other; or some one of that invincible lineage of Amadis de gall: for if any of these were living at this day, and should affront the turk, I faith I would not be in his coat: but God will provide for his people, and sand some one, if not so brave a Knight errand as those formerly, yet at least that shall not be inferior in courage; and God knows my meaning, and I say no more. alas( quoth the niece at this instant) hang me, if my master haue not a desire to turn Knight errand again. Then cried Don Quixote, I must die so, march the turk up and down when he will, and as powerfully as he can, I say again, God knows my meaning. Then said the Barber, Good Sirs, give me leave to tell you of a brief tale of an accident in sevil, which because it fals out here so pat, I must needs tell it. Don Quixote was willing, the Vicar and the rest gave their attention, and thus he began.  
In the house of the mad-men at sevil, there was one put in there by his kindred, to recover him of his lost wits, he was a bachelor of Law, graduated in the Canons at Osuna, and though he had been graduated at Salamanca, yet( as many are of opinion) he would haue been mad there too; this Bachelor after some yeeres imprisonment, made it appear that he was well and in his right wits, and to this purpose writes to the Arch-Bishop, desiring him earnestly, and with forcible reasons, to deliver him from that misery in which he lived, since by Gods mercy, he had now recovered his lost understanding: and that his kindred, onely to get his wealth, had kept him there, and so meant to hold him still wrongfully till his death. The Arch-Bishop, induced by many sensible and discreet lines of his, commanded one of his chaplains to inform himself from the Rector of the house, of the truth; and to speak also with the mad-man, that if he perceived he was in his wits, he should give him his liberty. The chaplain did this, and the Rector said that the party was still mad, that although he had sometimes faire intermissions, yet in the end he would grow to such a raving, as might equal his former discretion( as he  told him) he might perceive by discoursing with him. The chaplain would needs make trial, and coming to him, talked with himan hour and more, and in all that time the mad-man never gave him a cross, nor wild answer, but rather spoken advisedly, that the chaplain was forced to beleeue him to be sensible enough; and amongst the rest he  told him, the Rector had an inkling against him, because he would not lose his kindreds Presents, that he might say he was mad by fits: withall he said, that his Wealth was the greatest begging to him in his evil Fortune, since to enjoy that, his enemies defrauded him, and would doubt of GODS mercy to him, that had turned him from a Beast to a Man. Lastly, he spoken so well, that he made the Rector to bee suspected, and his kindred thought covetous and damnable persons, and himself so discreet, that the chaplain determined to haue him with him, that the Arch-Bishop might see him, and be satisfied of the truth of the business. With this good belief, the chaplain required the Rector to give the Bachelor the clothes he brought with him thither: who replied; desiring him to consider what he did, for that the party was still mad: but the Rectors advice prevailed nothing with the chaplain, to make him leave him; so he was forced to give way to the Arch-bishops order, and to give him his apparel, which was new and handsome: and when the mad man saw himself civilly clad, and his mad-mans weeds off, he requested the chaplain, that in charity he would let him take his leave of the mad-men his companions. The chaplain  told him that he would likewise accompany him, and see the madde-men that were in the house. So up they went, and with them some others there present, and the Bachelor being come to a kind of Cage, where an outrageous mad-man lay,( although as then still and quiet,) he said, Brother, if you will command me ought, I am going to my house; for now it hath pleased God, of his infinite goodness and mercy, without my desert, to bring me to my right mind: I am now well and sensible, for unto Gods power nothing is unpossible. Be of good comfort, trust in him, that since he hath turned me to my former estate, he will do the like to you, if you trust in him. I will be careful to sand you some dainty to eat, and by any means eat it; for let me tell you what I know by experience, that all our madness proceeds from the emptiness of our stomacks, that fills our brains with air: Take heart, take heart; for this deiecting in misery, lessons the health, and hastens death. Another madman in a Cage ouer-against, heard all the Bachelors discourse, and raising himself vpon an old Matresse vpon which he lay stark naked, asked aloud, who it was that was going away sound and in his wits. The Bachelor replied: It is I, brother, that am going, for I haue no need to stay here any longer; for which I render infinite thankes to God, that hath done me so great a favour. Take heed what you say, Bachelor, replied the madman, let not the devill deceive you; keep still your foot, and be quiet here at home, and so you may save a bringing back. I know( quoth the Bachelor) I am well, and shall need to walk no more stations hither: You're well, said the mad-man. The event will try; God be with you: but I swear to thee by jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth, that for this dayes offence, I will eat up all seville, for delivering thee from hence, and saying thou art in thy wits; I will take such a punishment on this City, as shall be remembered for ever and ever, Amen. Knowest not thou, poor rascall Bachelor, that I can do it, since( as I say) I am thundering jupiter, that carry in my hands the scorching bolts, with which I can, and use to threaten and destroy the world? But in one thing onely will I chastise this ignorant town; which is, That for three yeers together there shall fall no rain about it, nor the liberties thereof, counting from this time and instant hence-forward, that this threat hath been made. Thou free? thou sound, thou wise, and I mad, I sick, I bound? as sure will I rain, as I mean to hang myself. The standards by gave attention to the mad-man: but our Bachelor turning to the chaplain, and taking him by the hand, said, Be not afraid, Sir, nor take any heed to this mad-mans words: for if he be jupiter and will not rain, I that am Neptune the Father and god of the waters, will rain as oft as I list, and need shall require. To which( quoth the chaplain) Nay, Mr. Neptune, it were not good angering Mr. jupiter. I pray stay you here still, and some other time, at more leisure and opportunity, we will return for you again. The Rector and standards by began to laugh, and the chaplain grew to bee half abashed: the Bachelor was unclothed, there remained, and there the Tale ends.  
Well; is this the Tale, Mr. Barber( quoth Don Quixote) that because it fell out so pat, you could not but relate it? Ah, goodman Shauester, goodman Shauester, how blind is he that sees not light through the bottom of a Meale-siue? and is it possible that you should not know, that comparisons made betwixt wit,& wit, valour and valour, beauty and beauty, and betwixt birth and birth, are always odious& ill taken? I am not Neptune, god of the waters, neither care I who thinks me a wise man,( I being none) onely I am troubled to let the world understand the error it is in, in not renewing that most happy Age, in which the Order of Knight Errantry did flourish: But our depraved times deserve not to enjoy so great a happiness, as former Ages, when Knights errand vndertook the defence of kingdoms, the protection of Damosels, the succouring of Orphans, the chastising the Proud, the reward of the Humble. Most of your Knights now-a-daies, are such as russle in their silks, their cloth of gold and silver, and such rich stuffs as these they wear, rather then mail, with which they should arm themselves. You haue no Knight now that will lie vpon the bare ground, subject to the rigour of the air, armed Cap a Pie: None now that upright on his stirrups,& leaning on his lance, strives to be head sleep( as they say your Knights errand did:) You haue none now, that coming out of this wood, enters into that mountain, and from thence tramples over a barren and des●rt shore of the Sea, most commonly stormy and unquiet; and finding at the brink of it some little Cock-boat, without oars, sail, Mast, or any kind of tackling, casts himself into it with undaunted courage, yields himself to the implacable waves of the deep main, that now toss him as high as heaven, and then cast him as low as hell,& he exposed to the inevitable tempest, when he least dreams of it, finds himself at least three thousand Leagues distant from the place where he embarked himself: and leaping on a remote and unknown shore, lights vpon successses worthy to be written in brass,& not parchment. But now sloth triumphs vpon industry, idleness on labour, 'vice on virtue, presumption on valour, the theory on the practise of arms, which onely lived and shined in those golden Ages, and in those Knights errand. If not, tell me, who was more virtuous, more valiant, then the renowned Amadis de gall? more discreet then Palmerin of England? more affable and free, then Tirante the White? more gallant then Lisuart of Greece? a greater hackster, or more hacked then Don Belianis? more undaunted then Perian of Gaule? who a greater vndertaker of dangers then Felismarte of Hircania? who more sincere then Esplandian? who more courteous then Don Cierongilio of Thracia? who more fierce then Rodomant? who wiser then King Sobrinus? who more courageous then Renaldo? who more invincible then Roldan? who more comely, or more courteous then Rogero? from whom the Dukes of Ferrara at this day are descended( according to Turpin in his Cosmography.) All these Knights, and many more( Master Vicar) that I could tell you, were Knights errand, the very light and glory of Knight-hood. These, or such as these, are they I wish for, which if it could be, his majesty would bee well served, and might save a great deal of expense, and the turk might go shake his ears. And therefore let me tell you, I scorn to keep my house, since the chaplain delivers me not, and his jupiter( as goodman Barber talks) rains not; here am I that will rain when I list: this I speak, that goodman basin may know I understand him.  
Truly Mr: Don Quixote( said the Barber) I spoken it not to that end, and so help me God, as I meant well, and you ought not to resent any thing. I know well enough whether I ought or no, Sir, replied Don Quixote. Then( quoth the Vicar) well, go to: I haue not spoken a word hitherto, I would not willingly remain with one scruple which doth grace and gnaw vpon my conscience, sprung from what Mr. Don Quixote hath here  told vs. For this and much more you haue full liberty, good Master Vicar( said Don Quixote) and therefore tell your scruple, for sure it is no pleasure to continue with a scrupulous conscience. under correction( quoth the Vicar) this it is, I can by no means be persuaded that all that troope of Knights errand which you name, were ever true, and really persons of flesh and bone in this world: I rather imagine all is fiction, tales, and lies, or dreams set down by men waking, or to say trulier, by men half asleep. There's another error( quoth Don Quixote) into which many haue fallen, who believe not that there haue been such Knights in the world: and I myself many times in diuers companies, and vpon several occasions, haue laboured to show this common mistake, but sometimes haue failed in my purpose, at ●thers not; supporting it vpon the shoulders of Truth, which is so infallible, that I may say, that with these very eyes I haue beholded Amadis de gall, who was a goodly tall man, well complectioned, had a broad beard, and black, an equal countenance betwixt mild and stern, a man of small discourse, slow to anger, and soon appeased: and just as I haue delineated Amadis, I might in my iudgement paint and decipher out as many Knights errand, as are in all the Histories of the world: for by apprehending, they were such as their histories report them, by their exploits they did, and their qualities; their features, colours, and statures may in good Philosophy be guessed at. How big, dear Mr. Don Quixote( quoth the Barber) might giant Morgante be? Touching giants( quoth Don Quixote) there be different opinions whether there haue been any or no in the world: but the holy Scripture, which cannot err a jot in the truth, doth show us plainly that there were, telling us the story of that huge Philistine goliath, that was seven cubits and a half high, which is an unmeasurable greatness. Besides, in the Ile of Sicilia, there haue been found shanke-bones, and shoulder-bones so great, that their bigness shewed their owners to haue been giants, and as huge as high towers, which Geometry will make good. But for all this, I cannot easily tell you how big Morgante was, though I suppose he was not very tall; to which opinion I incline, because I find in his history, where there is particular mention made of his Acts, that many times he lay under a roof: And therefore since he found an house that would hold him, tis plain, he could not be of extraordinary bigness. Tis true( quoth the Vicar) who delighting to hear him talk so wildly, asked him what he thought of the faces of Renaldo of Montalban, Don Roldan and the rest of the twelve peers of France, who were all Knights errand. For Renaldo( quoth Don Quixote) I dare boldly say, he was broad-faced, his complexion high, quick and full eyed, very exceptions and extremely choleric, a lover of theeues and debauched company. Touching Rolando, or Rotolando, or Orlando, for histories afford him all these names, I am of opinion, and affirm that he was of a mean stature, broad-shouldred, somewhat bow-legged, Abourne bearded, his body hairy, and his looks threatening, dull of discourse, but affable and well behaved. If Orlando( said the Vicar) was so sweet a youth as you describe him, no marvell though the faire Angelica disdained him, and left him, for the handsome, brisk and conceited beard-budding Medor, and that she had rather haue his softness, then tothers roughness. That Angelica( quoth Don Quixote) was a light housewife, a gather, and a wanton, and left the world as full of her fopperies, as the reports of her beauty: shee despised a thousand Knights, a thousand both valiant and discreet, and contented herself with a poor beardless page., without more wealth or honour, then what her famous singer Ariosto could give her in token of his thankfulness to his friends love, either because he durst not in this respect, or because he would not chant what befell this Lady, after her base prostitution, for sure her carriage was not very honest: So he left her when he said, 
And how Catayes sceptre she had at will,  
Perhaps, some one will writ with better quill.  And undoubtedly this was a kind of prophesy, for Poets are called Vates, that is, soothsayers: and this truth hath been clearly seen, for since that time, a famous Andaluzian Poet wept; and sung her tears: and another famous and rare Poet of Castile her beauty. But tell me, Mr. Don Quixote( quoth the Barber) was there ever any Poet that wrote a satire against this faire Lady, amongst those many that haue written in her praise? I am well persuaded( quoth Don Quixote) that if Sacripant or Orlando had been Poets, they had trounced the Damosell: for it is an ordinary thing amongst Poets once disdained, or not admitted by their feigned Mistresses,( feigned indeed, because they fain they love them) to reuenge themselves with satires& Libels; a reuenge truly unworthy noble spirits: but hitherto I haue not heard of any infamatory verse against the Lady Angelica, that hath made any hurly burly in the world. Strange, quoth the Vicar. With that they might bear the niece and the old woman( who were before gone from them) keep a noise without in the Court: so they went to see what was the matter.   

CHAP. II.  
Of the notable fray that Sancho Panca had with the niece and the old woman, and other delightful passages.  
THe Story says, that the noise which Don Quixote, the Vicar and the Barber heard, was of the niece and the old woman, that were rating Sancho Panza, that strove with them for entrance to see Don Quixote, who kept the door against him. What will this bloodhound haue here? said they, Get you home to your own house, for you are he& none else, that doth distracted and ring-lead our Master, and carry him astray. To which( quoth Sancho) Woman of Satan, I am he that is distracted, ring-led, and carried astray, and not your Master: twas he that lead me up and down the world, and you deceive you selves and understand by halves: he drew me from my house with his conycatching, promising me an iceland, which I yet hope for. A plague of your Islands( replied the niece) cursed Sancho: and what be your Islands? is it any thing to eat, good-man glutton, you cormorant, as you are? Tis not to eat( quoth Sancho) but to rule and govern, better then four Cities, or four of the Kings Iudges. For all that( said the old woman) you come not in here, you bundle of mischief and sack of wickedness, get you home and govern there, and sow your grain, and leave seeking after islands or Dilands. The Vicar and the Barber took great delight to hear this Dialogue between the three: But Don Quixote, fearing lest Sancho should out with all, and should blunder out a company of malicious fooleries, or should touch vpon points that might not be for his reputation, he called him to him, and commanded the women to be silent, and to let him in. Sancho entred, and the Vicar and Barber took leave of Don Quixote, of whose recovery they despaired, seeing how much he was bent vpon his wild thoughts, and how much he was besotted with his damned Knights errand. So( quoth the Vicar to the Barber) you shall quickly, Gossip, perceive, when we least think of it, that our Gallant takes his slight again by the river. No doubt( said the Barber) but I wonder not so much at the Knights madness, as the Squires simplicity, that believes so in the islands, and I think all the Art in the world will not drive that out of his noddle. God mend them( said the Vicar) and let us expect what issue the multitude of this Knight and Squires absurdities will haue: for it seems they were both framed out of one forge, at it were, for the Masters madness without the Seruants folly, is not worth a chip. Tis true( said the Barber) and I should be glad to know their present discourse. I warrant( said the Vicar) the niece and old woman will tell us all when they haue done, for they are not so mannerly as not to hearken. In the Interim, Don Quixote locked in Sancho,& thus discoursed with him: I am very sorry, Sancho, you should affirm and make good, that I was he that drew you from your dog-hole cottage, knowing that I willingly left mine, a Palace in comparison; wee went out jointly, so we marched on,& so we held our whole peregrination; both of us having undergone the same lot, the same fortune;& if once thou wast tossed in a blanket, I haue been banged an hundred times, and herein haue I the advantage of thee. Why, it was very fit( answered Sancho) for( as you hold) misfortunes are more annexed to Knights errand then to their Squires. Thou art deceived, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote: for according to the saying, Quando caput dolet, &c. I understand no other language but mine own, said Sancho. Why I mean( replied Don Quixote) that when the head aches, all the body is out of tune: so that I being thy Lord and Master, am thy head, and thou a part of me, since thou art my seruant, in which respect, the ill that toucheth me, must concern and grieve thee, and so thine me. Indeed( quoth Sancho) it ought to bee so: but when I was tossed in the blanket, my head stood aloof, like a part, beholding me fly in the air, without any feeling my grief, and since the members are bound to suffer for the head, the head in requital should also suffer for them. You mean, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) that I had no feeling of your being tossed? And if you mean so, do not, neither imagine any such thing: for at that time, I was more vexed in spirit, then thou couldst bee in body: but leave we this for the present; for wee shall haue leisure to consider and rectify it: and tell me, friend Sancho, what say the common people of me? In what estimation do the Gentlemen hold me? In what the Knights and Gallants? What say they of my valour? What of my exploits? What of my affability? What discourse they touching my plot in raising and restoring to the world, the long forgotten order of Knight Errantry? To conclude, I would haue thee tell me all that thou hast heard: and you must tell me, without adding to my praise, or diminishing my dispraise, for it is the part of loyal seruants, to tell the naked truth to their Masters, in its native colour, without increasing it by flattery, or diminishing it for any other vain respect; And I would haue thee, Sancho, learn by the way, that if the naked truth should come to the ears of Princes, without the apparel of flattery, we should haue another manner of world, and other ages would be called iron, and not ours, and this would bee the golden age. And let me aduise thee, Sancho, that well and discreetly thou tell me the truth of what thou knowest, concerning my demand. I shall with a very good will, Sir,( quoth Sancho) vpon condition that you shall not bee angry at what I shall tell you, since you will haue the naked truth, without any other clothing then what I haue seen her with. By no means will I be angry( answered Don Quixote) thou mayst speak freely, Sancho, and without any disguise. Why then, first of all I must tell you, the common people hold you for a notable mad-man, and that I am no less coxcomb. The ordinary Gentle-men say, that not containing yourself within the limits of gentry, you will needs be-Don yourself, and be a man of honour, having but three or four acres of land, and a rag before, and another behind. The Knights say, they would not haue your poor Squires bee ranked with them, that clout their own shoes, and take up a stitch in their own black stockings with green silk. That concerns not me( quoth Don Quixote) for thou seest that I go always well clad, and never patched: indeed a little torn sometimes, but more with my armor, then by long wearing. Concerning your valour( quoth Sancho) your affability, your exploits, and your plot, there bee different opinions: Some say you are a mad-man, but a merry one: others, that you are valiant, but withall unfortunate: a third sort, that you are affable, but impertinent: and thus they descant vpon us, that they leave neither you nor me a sound bone. Why look thee, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) wheresoever virtue is eminent, it is persecuted: few or none of those brave Hero's that haue lived, haue scaped malicious calumniation. Iulius Caesar, that most courageous, most wise, most valiant captain, was noted to be ambitious, and to be somewhat slovenly in his apparel and his conditions. Alexander, who for his exploits obtained the title of Great, is said to haue been given to drunkenness: Hercules, he with his many labours, was said to haue been lascivious and a Striker: Don Galaor, brother to Amadis de gall, was grudged at for being offensive: and his Brother for a sheepe-biter. So that, Sancho, since so many worthy men haue been calunniated, I may well suffer mine, if it haue been no more then thou tellest me. Why, there's the quiddity of the matter, Body of my father, quoth Sancho. Was there any more said then, said Don Quixote? There's more behind yet, said Sancho: all that was said hitherto, is cakes and white-bread to this: but if you will know all concerning these calumnies, Ile bring you one hither by and by, that shall tell vm you all without missing a scrap; for last night Bartholomew Carrasco's son arrived, that comes from study from Salamanca, and hath proceeded bachelor, and as I went to bid him welcome home, he  told me that your History was in print, under the Title of the most Ingenious Gentle-man Don Quixote de la Mancha; and he tells me that I am mentioned too, by mine own name of Sancho Pansa, and Dulcinea deal Toboso is in too, and other matters that passed betwixt us, at which I was amazed, and blessed myself how the Historian that wrote them, could come to the knowledge of them. Assure thee, Sancho( said Don Quixote) the Author of our History is some Sage Enchanter: for such are not ignorant of all secrets they writ. Well( said Sancho) if he were wise and an Enchanter, I will tell you according as Samson Carrasco  told me( for thats the mans name that spoken with me) that the Authors name of this History is Cid Hamete 
It should be Benengeli, but Sancho simply mistakes, as followeth in the next note.  Beregena. That is the name of a Moore, said Don Quixote. It is very like( quoth Sancho) for your Moores are great louers of 
Berengena is a fruit in Spain, which they boil with sod meat, as we do carrats, and here was Sancho's simplicity in mistaking, and to think that name was given the Author for loving the fruit.  Berengens. Sancho( said Don Quixote) you are out in the Moores surname, which is Cid Hamete Benengeli, and Cide in the arabic signifieth Lord. It may bee so( quoth Sancho) but if you will haue the bachelor come to you, Ile bring him to you flying. Friend( quoth Don Quixote) thou shalt do me a special pleasure, for I am in suspense with what thou hast  told me, and will not eat a bit till I am informed of all. Well, I go for him( said Sancho;) And leaving his Master, went for the Bachelor, with whom a while after he returned, and the three had a passing pleasant Dialogue.   

CHAP. III.  
The ridiculous discourse that passed betwixt Don Quixote, Sancho, and the bachelor Samson Carrasco.  
DOn Quixote was monstrous pensative, expecting the bachelor Carrasco, from whom he hoped to hear the news of himself in print( as Sancho had  told him) and he could not be persuaded that there was such a History, since yet the blood of enemies, killed by him, was scarce dry vpon his sword blade, and would they haue his noble acts of chivalry already in the press? Notwithstanding, he thought that some wise man, or friend, or enemy, by way of enchantment, had committed them to the press: If a friend, then to extol him for the most remarkable of any Knight errand: If an enemy, to annihilate them, and clap vm beneath the basest and meanest that ever were mentioned of any inferior Squire, although( thought he to himself) no acts of Squire were ever divulged: but if there were any History, being of a Knight errand, it must needs be lofty and stately, famous, magnificent, and true. With this he comforted himself somewhat, but began to bee discomforted, to think that his Author must be a Moore, by reason of that name of Cide: and from Moores there could bee no truth expected; for all of them are Cheaters, Impostors, and chemists.  
He feared likewise, that he might treat of his love with some indecency, that might redound to the lessening and prejudice of his Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso's honesty, he desired that he might declare his constancy, and the decorum that he had ever kept toward her, contemning queens and Empresses, and Damosels of all sorts, keeping distance with violences of natural motions. Sancho and Carrasco found him thus tossed and turmoiled in these& many such like imaginations, whom Don Quixote received with much courtesy.  
This bachelor, though his name was Samson, was not very tall, but a notable Wag-halter, leane-faced, but of a good understanding; he was about four and twenty yeeres of age, round-faced, flat-nosed, and wide-mouthed, all signs of a malicious disposition, and a friend to conceits and merriment, as he shewed it when he saw Don Quixote; for he fell vpon his knees before him, saying, Good Mr. Don Quixote, give me your greatness his hand, for by the habit of St. Peter, which I wear, you are, Sir, one of the most complete Knights errand, that hath been, or shall be vpon the roundness of the earth. Well fare, Cid Hamete Benengeli, that left the stories of your greatness to posterity, and more then well may that curious Author fare, that had the care to cause them to bee translated out out of the arabic into our vulgar Castilian, to the general entertainment of all men.  
Don Quixote made him rise, and said; Then it seems my History is extant, and that he was a Moore, and a wise man that made it. So true ●… is( quoth Samson) that vpon my knowledge, at this day, there bee printed above twelve thousand copies of your History: if not, let Portugal, Barcelona, and Valencia speak, where they haue been printed, and the report goes, that they are now printing at Antwerp, and I haue a kind of guess, that there is no Nation or Language where they will not bee translated. One of the things then( quoth Don Quixote) that ought to give a man virtuous and eminent content in, is, to see himself living, and to haue a good name from every bodies mouth, to be printed and in the press. I said with a good name: for otherwise, no death could bee equalled to that life. If it bee for good name( said the bachelor) your Worship carries the prise from all Knights errand: For the Moore in his language, and the Christian in his, were most careful to paint to the life, your gallantry, your great courage in attempting of dangers, your patience in adversities,& your sufferance as well in misfortunes, as in your wounds, your honesty and constancy in the so platonic loues of yourself, and my Lady Donna Dulcinea deal Toboso. I never( replied Sancho) heard my Lady styled Don before, onely the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, and there the History erreth somewhat. This is no objection of moment( said Carrasco.) No truly( quoth Don Quixote) but tell me, signor bachelor, which of the exploits of mine are most ponderous in this History?  
In this( said the bachelor) there bee different opinions, as there bee different tastes: Some delight in the adventure of the winde-mils, that you took to be Briareans and giants: Others in that of the fulling-hammers: This man in the description of the two Armies, which afterwards fell out to be two flocks of sheep; That man doth extol your adventure of the dead man, that was carried to be butted at Segouia: One saith, that that of the freeing of the galleyslaves goes beyond them all: Another, that none comes near that of the Benitian giants, with the combat of the valorous Biscayner. Tell me( said Sancho) Sr. bachelor, comes not that in of the Yangnesian Carriers? when our precious Rozinante longed for the forbidden fruit? The wise man( said Samson) left out nothing, he sets down all most punctually, even to the very capers that Sancho fetched in the blanket. Not in the blanket( replied Sancho) but in the air, more then I was willing.  
According to my thought( said Don Quixote) there is no human History in the world, that hath not his changes, especially those that treat of cavalry, which can never bee full of prosperous successses. For all that( replied the bachelor) there be some that haue red your History, that would bee glad the Authors had omitted some of those infinite bastings, that in diuers encounters, were given Sr. Don Quixote. I, there( quoth Sancho) comes in the truth of the Story. They might likewise in equity silence them,( said Don Quixote) since those actions that neither change nor alter the truth of the Story, are best left out, if they must redound to the misprizing of the chief person of the History. Aeneas i'faith was ne're so pitiful, as Virgil paints him out: Nor ulysses so subtle, as Homer describes him. True it is( said Samson) but it is one thing to writ like a Poet, and another like an Historian; the Poet may say or sing things, not as they were, but as they ought to haue been: And the Historian must writ things, not as they ought to bee, but as they haue been, without adding or taking away ought from the truth.  
Well,( said Sancho) if you go to telling of truths, wee shall find that this signor Moore hath all the bastings of my Master and me; for I am sure they never took measure of his Worships shoulders, but they took it of all my body too: but no marvell, for as my Master himself saith, the rest of the parts must participate of the heads grief. Sancho, you are a Crack-rope( quoth Don Quixote) I'faith you want no memory, when you list to haue it. If I would willingly forget those cudgellings that I haue had, the bunches yet fresh on my ribs would not consent. Peace, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) and interrupt not the bachelor, whom I request to proceed, and tell me what is said of me in the mentioned History. And of me too( said Sancho) for it is said, that I am one of the principal Parsonages of it. Personages, and not Parsonages, you would say Sancho( qd. Samson.) More correcting of words( quoth Sancho?) go to this; and we shall not end in all our life-time. Hang me, Sancho( said Samson) if you be not the second person in the Story, and you haue some, that had as lief hear you speak, as the best there: though others will not stick to say, you were too credulous to beleeue, that your government of the island offered by Sr. Don Quixote here present, might be true.  
There is yet sun-shine vpon the walls( quoth Don Quixote) and when Sancho comes to be of more yeeres, with the experience of them, he will be more able and fit then now, to bee a governor. By the mass( said Sancho) if I bee not fit to govern an island at these yeeres, I shall never govern, though I come to be as old as Methusalem; the mischief is, that the said island is delayed I know not how, and not that I want brain to govern it. leave all to God, Sancho( said Don Quixote) for all will be well, and perhaps better then you think for; and the leaves in the three move not without the will of God.  
Tis true indeed( said Samson) for if God will, Sancho shall not want a thousand islands, much less one. I haue seen( said Sancho) of your Gouernours in the world, that are not worthy to wipe my shoes, and for all this, they give vm titles, and are served in plate. Those are not Gouernours of islands( replied Samson) but of other easier governments: for they that govern islands, must bee at least Grammarians. For your Gra, I care not, but your mere I could like well enough: but leaving this government to Gods hands, let him place me where he pleaseth: I say, Sr. bachelor Samson Carrasco, that I am infinitely glad that the Author of the History hath spoken of me, in such sort, that the things he speaks of me, do not cloy the Reader, for by the faith of a Christian, if he had spoken any thing of me not befiting an 
In Spanish Christiano ●ie●o, a name they desire to be distinguished from the Moores by.  old Christian as I am, I should make deaf men hear on't. That were to work miracles, said Samson. Miracles or not miracles( quoth Sancho) every man look how he speaks or writes of men, and set not down each thing that comes into his noddle in a mingle-mangle. One of the faults that they say( said Carrasco) is in that History, is this; that his Author put in it a certain novel or Tale, entitled the Curious Impertinent, not that it was ill, or not well contrived, but that it was unseasonable for that place, neither had it any thing to do with the History of Don Quixote.  
Ile hold a wager( quoth Sancho) the Dog-bolt hath made a Gallimawfry. Let me tell you( said Don Quixote) the Author of my Story is not wise, but some ignorant Prater, that at unawares and without iudgement undertook it, hab-nab, as Orbaneja the Painter of Vbeda, who being asked what he painted, answered, As it happens, sometimes he would paint ye a cock, but so unlike, that he was forced to writ underneath it in Gothish letters, This is a cock: and thus I beleeue it is with my History; that it hath need of a Coment to make it understood.  
No surely( replied Samson) it is so conspicuous, and so voided of difficulty, that children may handle him, youths may red him, men may understand him, and old men may celebrate him: To conclude, he is so gleaned, so red, and so known to all sorts of people, that they scarce see a lean horse pass by, when they say, There goeth Rosinante: And amongst these, Pages are most given to red him: You haue no great mans withdrawing room that hath not a Don Quixote in him, some take him, if others lay him down, these close with him, they demand him: Lastly, the Story is the most pleasing, the least hurtful for entertainment, that hath hitherto been seen; for all over it, there is not to be seen a dishonest word, or one like one; nor an imagination less then catholic.  
He that should writ otherwise( quoth Don Quixote) should writ no truths, but lies, and he that doth so, ought to bee burned, like them that coin false money; and I know not what the Author meant, to put in Nouels and strange Tales, my story affording him matter enough; belike, he holds himself to the proverb of chaff& hay, &c. Well, Ile tell you, out of mentioning onely my thoughts, my sighs, my tears, my honest wishes, and my on-sets, he might haue made a greater volume then all Tostatus works. Indeed, signor Bachelor, all that I conceive, is, that to writ a History, or any other work of what sort soever, a man had need of a strong iudgement and a ripe understanding: To speak wittily, and writ conceits, belongs onely to good wits: The cunningest part in a play, is the fools; because he must not be a fool, that would well counterfeit to seem so: An History is as a sacred thing, which ought to be true& real, and where truth is, there God is, in-asmuch as concerneth truth, howsoever; you haue some that do so compose and cast their works from them, as if they were Fritters.  
There is no book so bad( said the bachelor) that hath not some good in it. No doubt of that( said Don Quixote:) but many times it fals out, that those that haue worthily hoardward up, and obtained great famed by their writings, when they commit them to the press, they either altogether lose it, or in something lessen it. The reason of it( quoth Samson) is this, that as the printed works are viewed by leisure, their faults are easily espied, and they are so much the more pried into, by how much the greater the Authors famed is: Men famous for their wits, great Poets, illustrious Historians, are always or for the most part envied by them, that haue a pleasure and a particular pastime, to judge of other mens writings, without publishing their own. That's not to bee wondered at( cries Don Quixote) for there bee many divines that are nothing worth in a pulpit, and are excellent in knowing the defect or excess of him that preacheth. All this( said Carrasco) Sr. Don Quixote, is right, but I could wish such Censurers were more mild, and less scrupulous, in looking on the moats of the most clear sun of his works, whom they bite; for if aliquando bonus dormitat Homerus, let vm consider how much he watched, to show the light of his work without the least shadow that might bee: and it might bee, that what seems ill to them, were moles that sometimes increase the beauty of the face that hath them; and thus, I say, that he that prints a book, puts himself into a manifest danger, being of all impossibilities the most impossible to frame it so, that it may content and satisfy all that shall red it.  
The book that treats of me( quoth Don Quixote) will haue pleased very few. Rather contrary( says Samson) for as Stultorum infinitus est numerus, an infinite number haue been delighted with this History, but some found fault, and craftily taxed the Authors memory, in that he forgot to tell, who was the thief that stolen Sancho's Dapple, for there is no mention there, onely it is inferred that he was stolen, and not long after wee see him mounted vpon the same ass, without knowledge how he was found. They also say, that he forgot to tell what Sancho did with those hundred pistolets, which he found in the mail in Sierra Morena, for he never mentions them more, and there be many that desire to know what became of them, and how he employed them, which is one of the essential points in the work.  
Master Samson( said Sancho) I am not now for your reckonings or relations, for my stomach is faint, and if I fetch it not again with a sup or two of the old Dog, it will make me as gaunt as Saint Lucia; I haue it at home, and my Pigs-nie stays for me, when I haue dined I am for ye, and will satisfy you& all the world in any thing you will ask me, as well touching the loss of mine ass, as the expense of the hundred pistolets: And so without expecting any reply, or exchanging another word, home he goes. Don Quixote entreated the bachelor to stay and take a pittance with him; The bachelor accepted the invitement, and so stayed dinner: Beside their ordinary fare, they had a pair of household Pigeons added; at table they discoursed of cavalry, Carrasco followed his humour, the banquet was ended, and they slept out the heat: Sancho returned, and the former discourse was renewed.   

CHAP. IV.  
How Sancho Pansa satisfies the Bachelor Samson Carrasco's doubts and demands; with other accidents worthy to be known and related.  
SAncho came back to Don Quixotes house, and turning to his former discourse, said: Touching what, Mr. Samson desired to know; who, how, and when mine ass was stolen: By way of Answer, I say; That the very same night wee fled from the Hue and Cry, we entred Sierra Morena, after the unfortunate adventure of the galleyslaves,& the dead man that was carrying to Segouia; my Master& I got us into a thicket, where he leaning vpon his lance,& I vpon my Dapple, both of us well bruised and wearied with the former skirmishes, we fell to sleep as soundly, as if we had been vpon four feather-beds, especially I, that slept so soundly, that he, whosoever he was, might easily come and put me vpon four stakes, which he had fastened vpon both sides of my pack-saddle, vpon which he left me thus mounted, and without perceiving it, got my Dapple from under me.  
This was easy to be done, and no strange accident; for wee red that the same happened to Sacripant, when being at the siege of Albraca, that famous thief Brunelo, with the selfsame slight got his horse from under his legs. Sancho proceeds: It was light day( said he) when I had scarce stretched myself, but the stakes failed, and I got a good squelch vpon the ground: then I looked for mine ass, but not finding him, the tears came to mine eyes, and I made such strange moan, that if the author of our History omitted it, let him be assured he forgot a worthy passage. I know not how long after, coming with my Lady the princess Micomicona, I knew mine ass, and that he who road on him in the habit of a Gipson, was that 'gins de Passamonte, that Cheater, that arrant Mischiefe-monger, that my Master and I freed from the chain.  
The error was not in this( said Samson) but that before there was any news of your ass, the author still said, you were mounted vpon the selfsame Dapple. I know not what to say to that( quoth Sancho) but that either the Historian was deceived, or else it was the carelessness of the Printer. Without doubt( saith Samson) twas like to bee so: But what became of the Pistolets? Were they spent?  
I spent them vpon myself( quoth Sancho) and on my wife and children,& they haue been the cause that she hath endured my journeys and Careeres, which I haue fetched in my Master Don Quixotes service: for if I should haue returned empty, and without mine ass, I should haue been welcomed with a pox: and if you'l know any more of me, here I am, that will answer the King himself in person; and let no body intermeddle to know, whether I brought, or whether I brought not; whether I spent, or spent not; for if the blows that I haue had in these voyages were to be paid in money, though every one of them were taxed but at three farthings apiece, an hundred Pistolers more would not pay me the half of them, and let every man look to himself, and not take white for black, and black for white, for every man is as God hath made him, and sometimes a great deal worse.  
Let me alone( quoth Carrasco) for accusing the Author of the History, that if he print it again, he shall not forget what Sancho hath said, which shall make it twice as good as it was. Is there ought else, Sr. bachelor( said Don Quixote) to bee mended in this Legend? Yes Mary is there( said he) but nothing so important as what hath been mentioned. Perhaps the Author promiseth a second part( quoth Don Quixote?) He doth( said Samson) but saith, he neither finds nor knows who hath it, so that it is doubtful, whether it will come out or no: so that partly for this, and partly because some hold that second parts were never good; and others, that there is enough written of Don Quixote, it is doubted, that there will bee no second part, although some more jovial then Saturnists, cry out; Let's haue more Quixotismes: Let Don Quixote assault, and Sancho speak, let the rest bee what they will, this is enough. And how is the author inclined?  
To which( said Samson) when he hath found this History, that he searcheth after with extraordinary diligence, he will strait commit it to the press, rather for his profit tho, then for any other respect. To this( said Sancho) What? Doth the author look after money and gain? tis a wonder if he be in the right: rather he will be like your false stitching Taylours vpon Christmas Eeues: for your hasty work is never well performed: let that Mr. Moore haue a care of his business, for my Master and I will furnish him with rubbish enough at hand, in matter of adventures, and with such different successses, that he may not onely make one second part, but one hundreth: the poor fellow thinks belike, that we sleep herein an hay-mow; well, let it come to scanning, and he shall see whether wee bee defective: This I know, that if my Master would take my counsel, he should now bee abroad in the Champion, remedying grievances, rectifying wrongs, as good Knights errand are wont to do.  
No sooner had Sancho ended this discourse, when the neighing of Rozinante came to his ears, which Don Quixote took to be most auspicious, and resolved within three or four dayes after to make another sally, and manifesting his mind to the Bachelor, asked his advice to know which way he should begin his journey; whose opinion was, That he should go to the kingdom of arragon, and to the City of Saragosa; where, not long after, there were solemn lusts to bee held in honour of Saint George, wherein he might get more famed then all the Knights of arragon, which were above all other Knights. he praised his most noble and valiant resolution, but withall desired him to be more wary in attempting of dangers, since his life was not his own, but all theirs also, who needed his protection and succour in their distress.  
I renounce that, Mr. Samson,( said Sancho) for my Master will set vpon an hundred armed men, as a boy would vpon half a dozen of young Melons; Body of the world, Sr. bachelor, there is a time to attempt, a time to retire, all must not be saint Iacques, and vpon vm. Besides, I haue heard, and I 
Santiago, y Cierra Esp●na. As we use in England, Saint George and the Victory.  beleeue from my Master himself,( if I haue not forgotten) that valour is a mean between the two extremes of a Coward and a rash man: and if this be so, neither would I haue him fly, nor follow, without there be reason for it: but above all, I wish that if my Master carry me with him, it be vpon condition, that he fight for us both, and that I be tied to nothing but waiting vpon him, to look to his clothes and his diet, for this I will do as nimbly, as bring him water; but to think that I will lay hand to my sword, although it be but against base fellowes and poor rascals, is most impossible. I( Mr. Samson) strive not to hoard up a famed of being valiant, but of the best and trustiest Squire that ever served Knight errand: And if Don Quixote my Master, obliged thereunto by my many services, will bestow any island on me, of those many, his Worship saith, wee shall light vpon, I shall be much bound to him: and if he give me none, I was born, and one man must not live to rely on another, but on God; and perhaps I shall bee as well with a piece of bread at mine ease, as to be a governor; and what do I know, whether in these kindes of governments, the devill hath set any tripping-blocke before me, where I may stumble and fall, and dash out my teeth? Sancho was I born, Sancho must I die; but for all that, if so and so, without any care or danger, heaven should provide some island for me, or any such like thing, I am not so very an ass as to refuse it, according to the proverb, look not a given horse in the mouth.  
Friend Sancho( quoth Carrasco) you haue spoken like an Oracle: Notwithstanding, trust in God and Mr. Don Quixote, that he will give you not onely an island, but a kingdom too. I think one as well as tother( quoth Sancho) and let me tell you, Mr. Samson,( said Sancho) I think my Masters kingdom would not bee bestowed on me in vain, for I haue felt mine own pulse, and find myself healthy enough to rule kingdoms and govern islands, and thus I haue  told my Master many times.  
look ye, Sancho( quoth Samson) Honours change manners, and perhaps when you are once a governor, you may scarce know your own mother. That's to be understood( said Sancho) of them that are basely born, and not of those that haue on their souls 
To express his not being born a jew, or Moore.  four fingers fat of the old Christian, as I haue: No, but come to my condition, which will bee ungrateful to no body. God grant it( quoth Don Quixote) and wee shal see when the government comes, for me thinks I haue it before mine eyes.( Which said) he asked the bachelor whether he were a Poet, and that he would do him the favour to make him some verses, the subject of his farewell to his Mistris Dulcinea deal Toboso, and withall, that at the beginning of every verse, he should put a letter of her name, that so joining all the first letters, there might bee red Dulcinea deal Toboso? The bachelor made answer, that though he were none of the famous Poets of spain, which they said were but three& an half; yet he would not refuse to compose the said metre, although he found a great deal of difficulty in the composition, because there were seuenteen letters in the name; and, if he made foure-staues, of each four verses, that there would be a letter too much; and if he made them of five, which they call Decimi, there would be three too little; but for all that, he would see if he could drown a letter; so in four staues there might be red, Dulcinea deal Toboso. By all means( quoth Don Quixote) let it be so: for if the name be not plain and conspicuous, there is no woman will beleeue the metre was composed for her.  
Vpon this they agreed, and that eight dayes after their departure should be. Don Quixote enjoined the bachelor to keep it secret, especially from the Vicar, and 
The Barber.  Mr. Nicholas, his niece, and the old woman, lest they should disturb his noble and valiant resolution. Carrasco assured him, and so took leave, charging Don Quixote he should let him hear of all his good or bad fortune, at his best leisure. So they took leave, and Sancho went to provide for their journey.   

CHAP. V.  
Of the wise and pleasant discourse, that passed betwixt Sancho Pansa and his wife Teresa Pansa, and other accidents worthy of happy remembrance.  
THe translator of this History, when he came to writ this fifth Chapter, says, that he holds it for Apocrypha, because Sancho speaks in it after another manner then could be expected from his slender understanding, and speaks things more acutely then was possible for him, yet he would translate it, for the accomplishment of his promise, and so goes on, as followeth.  
Sancho came home so jocund and so merry, that his wife perceived it a flight-shot off, insomuch that shee needs would ask him; Friend Sancho, what's the matter that you are so joyful? To which he answered: Wife, I would to God I were not so glad as I make show for. I understand you not, husband( quoth shee) and I understand not what you mean, that if it pleased God, you would not bee so contented; for though I bee a fool, yet I know not who would willingly be sad.  
look ye, Teresa( said Sancho) I am jolly, because I am determined to serve my Master Don Quixote, once more, who will now this third time sally in pursuit of his adventures, and I also with him, for my poverty will haue it so; besides my hope that rejoiceth me, to think that I may find another hundred Pistolets, for those that are spent: Yet I am sad again, to leave thee and my children, and if it pleased God that I might live quietly at home, without putting myself into those deserts and crosse-waies, which he might easily grant if he pleased and were willing; it is manifest, that my content might bee more firm and wholesome, since the present ioy I haue, is mingled with a sorrow to leave thee: so that I said well, I should bee glad if it pleased God I were not so contented.  
Fie, Sancho( replied Teresa) ever since thou hast been a member of a Knight errand, thou speakest so round-about the bush, that no body can understand thee. It is enough( quoth Sancho) that God understands me, who understands all things, and so much for that: but mark, Sister, I would haue you for these three daies, look well to my Dapple, that he may bee fit for arms, double his allowance, seek out his pack-saddle, and the rest of his tackling; for wee go not to a marriage, but to compass the world, and to give and take, with giants, Sprights and Hobgoblins, to hear hissing, roaring, bellowing, and bawling: and all this were sweet meat, if we had not to do with 
The Carriers that beat the Master and man. Vide 1. part. Don Quixote.  Yangneses and enchanted Moores.  
I beleeue indeed( quoth Teresa) that your Squires errand gain not their bread for nothing: I shall therefore pray to our Lord, that he deliver you speedily from this misfortune. Ile tell you, wife( said Sancho) if I thought not ere long to bee governor of an island, I should die suddenly. None of that, Husband ( quoth Teresa:) Let the hen live, though it bee with her pip; live you, and the devill take all the governments in the world, without government were you born, without government haue you lived hitherto, and without government must you go, or bee carried to your grave, when it shall please God. How many be there in the world, that live without governments, yet they live well enough, and well esteemed of? Hunger is the best sauce in the world, and when the poor want not this, they eat contentedly. But hark, Sancho, ●… you should chance to see a government, pray forget not me and your children: little Sancho is now just fifteen yeeres old, and tis fit he go to school, if his uncle the Abbot mean to make him a Church-man: And look ye to, Mary Sancha our daughter will not die, if we mary her, for I suspect she desires marriage, as much as you your government, and indeed a daughter is better ill married, then well Paramour'd.  
I' good faith( quoth Sancho) if I haue ought with my government, Wife; Mary Sancha shall be so highly married, that she shall be called Lady at least. Not so, Sancho( quoth Teresa) the best way is to mary her with her equal, for if in stead of her pattens you give her 
Chapines.  high shoes, if in stead of a course petticoat, a farthingale and silk kirtle, and from little Mal, my Lady Whacham, the girl will not know herself, and shee will every foot fall into a thousand errors, discovering the thread of her gross and course web.  
Peace, fool( said Sancho) all must bee two or three yeeres practise, and then her greatness will become her, and her state fall out pat: howsoever, what matter is it? let her be your ladyship, and come what will on it. Measure yourself by your means( said Teresa) and seek not after greater, keep yourself to the proverb; Let neighbours children hold together: Twere pretty i'faith to mary our Mary with a great Lord or Knight, that when the toy takes him in the head, should new-mould her, calling her milke-maid, Boores daughter, Rocke-peeler: not while I live, Husband: for this forsooth haue I brought up my daughter? Get you money, Sancho, and for marrying her, let me alone: Why, there's Lope Tocho, John Tocho's son, a sound chopping Lad, wee know him well, and I know, he casts a sheeps eye vpon the wench, and tis good marrying her with this her equal, and wee shall haue him always with us, and wee shall bee all one: Parent, sons, and grandsonnes, and son in law, and Gods peace and blessing will always be amongst us, and let not me haue her married into your Courts and Grand Palaces, where they'l neither understand her, nor she them.  
Come hither, Beast( quoth Sancho) Woman of Barrabas, why wilt thou, without any reason, hinder me from marrying my daughter where shee may bring me grand-sonnes that may be styled Lordship? Behold, Teresa, I haue always heard mine Elders say, That he that will not when he may, when he desireth, shall haue nay: And it is not fit that whilst good lucke is knocking at our door, we shut it: let us therefore sail with this prosperous wind.( For this and for that which followeth, that Sancho spoken, the Author of the History says, he held this Chapter for Apocrypha.) do not you think, Bruit-one( said Sancho) that it will be fit to fall vpon some beneficial government, that may bring us out of want: and to mary our Daughter Sancha to whom I please, and you shall see how she shall bee called Dona Teresa Pansa, and sit in the Church with your carpet and your cushions, and your hung-clothes, in spite of the Gentle-women of the town? No, no, remain still as you are, in one estate, without increasing or diminishing, like a picture in hangings; go to, let's haue no more, little Sancha must bee a countess, say thou what thou wilt.  
What a coil you keep( quoth Teresa?) for all that, I fear this earldom will be my daughters undoing, yet do what ye will, make her duchess or princess; it shall not bee with my consent: I haue always loved equality, and I cannot abide to see folkes take vpon vm without grounds, I was christened Teresa, without welt or gard, nor additions of Don or Dona, my fathers name was Cascaio, and because I am your wife, they call me Teresa Pansa, for indeed they should haue called me Teresa Cascaio: But great ones may do what they list, and I am well enough content with this name, without putting any Don vpon it, to make it more troublesone, that I shall not be able to bear it, and I will not haue folk laugh at me, as they see me walk in my Countesses apparel, or my Gouernesses, you shall haue them cry strait, look how stately the Hog-rubber goes, she that was but yesterday at her spindle, and went to Church with the skirt of her coat over her head in stead of an Huke, to day she is in her Varthingale and her buttons, and so demure, as if we knew her not: God keep me in my seven wits, or my five, or those that I haue, and Ile not put myself to such hazards; Get you, Brother, to bee a government or an island, and take state as you please, for by my mothers Holy-dam, neither I nor my daughter will stir a foot from our village: better a broken joint then a lost name, and keep home, the honest maid, to bee doing is her trade, go you with Don Quixote to your adventures, and leave us to our ill fortunes; God will sand better, if we be good, and I know not who made him a Don, or a title which neither his Father nor his Grandfather ever had.  
Now I say( quoth Sancho) thou hast a Familiar in that body of thine: Lord bless thee for a woman, and what a company of things hast thou strung up without head or feet? What hath your Cascaio, your buttons, or your proverbs, or your state, to do with what I haue said? Come hither coxcomb, fool( for so I may call you, since you understand not my meaning, and neglect your happiness) If I should say, my daughter should cast herself down some tower, or she should rove up and down the world, as did the princess Dona Vrraca, you 
An Infanta of spain.  had reason not to consent: But if in less then two trap-blowes, or the opening& shutting of an eye, I clap ye a Don and ladyship vpon your shoulders, and bring it out of your stubble, and put it you under barne-couer, and set you in your state, with more Cushions then the Almohada Moores had in all their lineage: why, will you not consent to that, that I would haue you? Would you know why, Husband( answered Teresa?) for the proverb that says; He that covers thee, discovers thee: every one passeth his eyes slightly over the poor, and vpon the rich man they fasten them, and if the said rich man haue at any time been poor, there is your grumbling and cursing, and your back-biters never leave, who swarm as thick as hives of Bees thorough the streets.  
mark, Teresa( said Sancho) and give ear to my speech, such as peradventure you haue not heard in all you life time, neither do I speak any thing of mine own, for all I purpose to speak, is sentences of our Preacher, that preached all last Lent in this town, who( as I remember) said, that all things that wee see before our eyes present, assist our memory much better, and with more vehemency, then things past.  
( All these reasons here delivered by Sancho, are the second, for which the translator of the History holds this chapter for Apocrypha, as exceeding the capacity of Sancho, who proceeded, saying:)  
Whereupon it happens, that when wee see some parsonage well clad in rich apparel, and with many followers, it seems he moves and invites us perforce to give him respect: although our memory at that very instant represents unto us some kind of baseness, which we haue seen in that parsonage, the which doth vilify him, bee it either for poverty or lineage, both passed over, are not: and that which wee see present, only is. And if this man( whom fortune blotted out of his baseness, and to whom consequently his father left all height of prosperity) be well-behaued, liberal and courteous towards all men, and contends not with such, as are most anciently noble, assure thyself, Teresa, all men will forget what he was, and reverence him for what he is, except the envious, whom the greatest scape not. I understand you not, Husband( replied Teresa) do what you will, and do not trouble me with your long speeches and your rhetoric: and if you be revolved to do what you say. resolved you must say, Wife( quoth Sancho) and not revolved. I pray dispute not with me, Husband( said Teresa) I speak as it pleases God, and strive not for more eloquence: and I tell you, if you persist in having you government, take your son Sancho with you, and teach him from henceforth to govern; for it is fit that the sons do inherit, and learn the offices of their fathers.  
When I haue my government( quoth Sancho) I will sand Post for him, and I will sand thee moneys, for I shall want none, and there never want some that will lend Gouernours money when they haue none: but cloth him so, that he may not appear what he is, and may seem what he must bee. sand you money( quoth Teresa) and Ile clad him like a Date-leafe. So that now( said Sancho) wee are agreed that our daughter shall bee a countess.  
The day that I shall see her a countess( said Teresa) will bee my deaths day: But I tell you again, do what you will, for we women are born with this clog, to bee obedient to our husbands, though they be no better then leeks: And here she began to weep so hearty, as if her little daughter Sancha had been dead and butted. Sancho comforted her, saying, that though she must bee a countess, yet he would defer it as long as he could. here their Dialogue ended, and Sancho returned to see Don Quixote, to give order for their departure.   

CHAP. VI.  
What passed betwixt Don Quixote, his niece, and the old woman: and it is one of the most material Chapters in all the History.  
WHilst Sancho and his wife were in this impertinent aforesaid discourse, Don Quixotes niece and old woman were not idle, and by a thousand signs guessed, that her uncle and their Master would a slashing the third time, and return to the exercising of his( for them) ill Knight Errantry; they sought by all means possible to divert him from so bad a purpose: but all was to no purpose, to preach in a desert, or to beat could iron.  
Notwithstanding, amongst many other discourses that passed betwixt them, the old woman  told him; truly Master, if you keep not your foot still, and rest quiet at home, and suffer yourself to beled thorough mountaines and valleys, like a soul in Purgatory, seeking after those they call adventures, which I call misfortunes, I shall complain on you, and cry out to God and the King, that they remedy it. To which, Don Quixote answered; Woman, what God will answer to your complaints, I know not, nor what his majesty will: onely I know, if I were a King, I would save a labour in answering such an infinity of foolish Petitions, as are given him daily: for one of the greatest toils( amongst many others that Kings haue) is this, to bee bound to hearken to all, to answer all; therefore I would bee loth, that ought concerning me, should trouble him. Then( quoth the old woman) tell us Sir, In his majesties Court bee there not Knights? Yes( answered he) and many, and good reason, for the adornment and greatness of Princes, and for ostentation of the royal majesty. Why? would not your Worship( replied she) bee one of them that might quietly serve the King your Master at Court?  
look ye, friend( answered Don Quixote) All Knights cannot be Courtiers, nor all Courtiers neither can, nor ought to be Knights errand; in the world there must bee of all sorts, and though wee bee all Knights, yet the one and the other differ much: For your Courtiers, without stirring out of their chambers, or over the Court thresholds, can travell all the world over, looking vpon a Map, without spending a mite, without suffering heat, could, hunger, or thirst. But wee, the true Knights errand, with sun, with could, with air, with all the inclemencies of heaven, night and day, a horseback and on foot, do trace the whole world thorough: And wee do not know our enemies by supposition, as they are painted, but in their real being, and at all times, and vpon every occasion wee set vpon vm, without standing vpon trifles, or on the laws of Duello, whether a sword or a lance were longer or shorter, whether either of the parties wore a charm, or some hidden deceit, if they shall fight after the suins going down or no, with other ceremonies of this nature, which are used in single combats betwixt man and man, that thou knowest not of, but I do. Know further, that the good Knight errand( although he see ten giants, that with their heads, not onely touch, but overtop the clouds, and that each of them hath legs as big as two great towers, and arms like the masts of mighty ships, and each eye as big as a mill-wheele, and more fiery then a glass oven) must not be affrighted in any wise, rather with a stayed place and undaunted courage, he must set on them, close with them; and if possible, overcome, and make vm turn tail in an instant; yea, though they came armed with the shells of a certain fish, which( they say) are harder then Diamonds, and though in stead of swords, they had cutting skeines of Damasco steel, or iron clubs with pikes of the same, as I haue seen them more then once or twice. All this haue I said, woman mine, that you may see the difference betwixt some Knights and others, and it is reason that Princes should more esteem this second, or( to say fitter) this first Species of Knights errand( for as we red in their histories) such an one there hath been amongst them, that hath been a safe-guard not onely of one kingdom, but many.  
Ah Sir, then said his niece, beware; for all is lies and fiction that you haue spoken, touching your Knights errand, whose stories, if they were not burnt, they deserve each of them at least to haue a penance inflicted vpon them, or some note, by which they might bee known to bee infamous, and ruiners of good customs.  
I assure thee certainly( quoth Don Quixote) if thou wert not lineally my niece, as daughter to mine own Sister, I would so punish thee for the blasphemy thou hast spoken, as should resound thorough all the world. Is it possible that a Pisse-kitchin, that fierce knows how to make Bone-lace, dares speak and censure the histories of Knights errand? What would Sr. Amadis, haue said if he should haue heard this? But I warrant he would haue forgiven thee, for he was the humblest and most courteous Knight of his time; and moreover, a great Protector of Damozels: but such an one might haue heard thee, that thou mightst haue repented thee; for all are not courteous, or pitiful, some are harsh and brutish. Neither are all that bear the name of Knights, so, truly; for some are of gold, others of alchemy, yet all seem to be Knights: but all cannot brook the touchstone of truth: You haue some base knaves that burst again to seem Knights, and some that are Knights, that kill themselves in post-haste till they become Peasants: The one either raise themselves by their ambition, or virtue; the others fall, either by their negligence, or 'vice; and a man had need be wise to distinguish between these two sorts of Knights, so near in their names, so distant in their actions.  
help me God( quoth the niece) that you should know so much uncle, as were it in case of necessity, you might step into a pulpit, and 
An usual thing in spain, that a friar or Iesuite( when a fiery zeal takes him) makes his pulpit in any part of the street, or market-place.  preach in the streets, and for all that you go on so blindly, and fall into so eminent a madness, that you would haue us think you valiant, now you are old, that you are strong, being so sickly, that you are able to make crooked things strait, being crooked with yeeres, and that you are a Knight when you are none? for though Gentle-men may bee Knights, yet the poor cannot.  
You say well, niece, in that( quoth Don Quixote) and I could tell thee things concerning lineages, that should admire thee, but because I will not mingle divinity with Humanity, I say nothing: mark ye hoe, to four sorts of lineages( hearken to me) may all in the world be reduced, and they are these. Some that from base beginnings haue arrived at the greatest honours. Others that had great beginnings, and so conserve them till the end. Others, that though they had great beginnings, yet they end pointed like a pyramid, having lessened& amnihilated their beginning, till it ends in nothing. Others there are( and these the most) that neither had good beginning, nor reasonable middle, and so they pass away without mention, as the lineage of the common and ordinary sort of people. Let the house of the Othomans bee an example to thee of the first, who had an obscure beginning, but rose to the greatness they now preserve, that from a base and poor shepherd that gave them their first beginning, haue come to this height, in which now we see them. Many Princes may be an instance of the second lineage, that began in greatness, and was so preserved, without augmentation or diminution, onely kept their inheritance, containing themselves within the limits of their own kingdoms peacefully. Thousands of examples there bee of such, as began in greatness, and lessened towards their end. For all your Pharaos, your Ptolomies of egypt, your Caesars of Rome, with all the hurrie( if I may so term them,) of your infinite Princes, Monarchs, Lords, Medes, Assyrians, Persians, Grecians, and Barbarians, all these lineages, all these Lordships ended, pointed, and came to nought, as well they, as those that gave them beginning, for it is not possible to find any of their successors, and if it were, he must bee in mean and base estate; with the common sort I haue nothing to do, since they only live, and serve to increase the number of men, without deserving more famed, or elegy of their greatness.  
Thus much( fools) you may infer from all that hath been said, that the confusion of lineages is very great; and that those are the most great& glorious, that show it in the virtue, wealth, and liberality of their owners. virtue, wealth, and liberality( I say) for that great man that is vicious, will be the more so, by his greatness, and the rich man not liberal, is but a covetous beggar, for he that possesseth riches, is not happy in them, but in the spending them, not only in spending, but in well spending them. The poor Knight hath no way to show he is a Knight, but that he is virtuous, affable, well fashioned, courteous, and well-behaued, and officious. not proud, not arrogant, not backbiting, and above all, charitable: for in a penny( that he gives cheerfully to the poor) he shows himself as liberal, as he that for ostentation gives an alms before a multitude, and there is no man that sees him adorned with these virtues, but although he know him not, he will judge of him, and think he is well descended: for if he were not, 'twere miraculous,& the reward of virtue hath been always praise, and the virtuous must needs be praised.  
There be two courses for men to come to be wealthy and noble by, the one is Artes, tother arms. I haue more arms then learning, and was born( according to my inclination that way) under the influence of the Planet Mars, so that I must of force follow his steps, which I mean to do in spite of all the world, and it is in vain for you to strive to persuade me, that I should nill what the heauens will me, fortune ordains, and reason requires, and above all, my affection desires. Well; in knowing( as I know) the innumerable troubles that are annexed to Knight Errantrie, so I know the infinite goods that are obtained with it. And I know that the path of virtue is very narrow, and the way of 'vice large and spacious. And I know that their ends and resting places are different, for that of 'vice, large and spacious ends in death, and that of virtue, narrow and cumbersome ends in life, and not in a life that hath ending, but that is endless. And I know what 
Bo●….  our great castilian Poet said,  
To the high seat of immortality  
Through crabbed paths, we must our journey take,  
Whence he that falls, can never climb so high.  
Woe is me( said the niece) my Master too is a Poet, he knows every thing: I hold a wager, if he would be a Mason, he would build a house as easily as a cage. I promise thee, niece( qd. Don Quixote) if these knightly cogitations did not wrap my senses, there is nothing I could not do, nor no curiosity should scape me, especially cages, and tooth-pickers. By this one knocked at the door,& asking who was there, Sancho answered, Tis I. The old woman, as soon as she heard him, ran to hid herself, because she would not see him, for she could not abide him. The niece let him in, and his Master Don Quixote went to receive him with open arms:& they both locked themselves in, where they had another Dialogue as good as the former.   

CHAP. VII.  
What passed betwixt Don Quixote and his Squire, with other most famous accidents.  
THE old woman, as soon as shee saw her Master and Sancho locked together, began to smell their drift, and imagining that his third sally would result from that consultation, and taking her mantle, full of sorrow and trouble, she went to seek the bachelor Samson Carrasco, supposing, that as he was well spoken,& a late acquaintance of Don Quixotes, he might persuade him to leave his doting purpose; she found him walking in the Court of his house, and seeing him, she fell down in a could sweat,( all troubled) at his feet. When Carrasco saw her so sorrowful and affrighted, he asked her: Whats the matter? what accident is this? Me thinks thy heart is at thy mouth. Nothing( said she) Mr. Samson, but my Master is run out, doubtless, he is run out. And where runs he, said he? hath he broken a hole in any part of his body? He runs not out( answered she) but out of the door of his madness: I mean, sweet sir bachelor, he means to be a gadding again, and this is his third time, he hath gone a hunting after those you call adventures: I know not why they give vm this name. The first time they brought him us athwart vpon an ass beaten to pieces. The second time he came clapped up in an Oxe-Wayne, and locked in a Cage, and he made us beleeue he was enchanted,& the poor soul was so changed, that his mother that brought him forth, would not haue known him, so lean, so wan, his eyes so sunk into his head, that I spent above six hundreth eggs to recover him, as God is my witness, and all the world, and my hens that will not let me lie. That I well beleeue( quoth the Bachelor) for they are so good, and so fat, and so well nurtured, that they will not say one thing for another if they should burst for it. Well, is there ought else? hath there any other ill lucke happened more then this you fear, that your Master will abroad? No sir,( said she:) Take no care( quoth he) but get you home on Gods name, and get me some warm thing to breakfast, and by the way as you go, pray me the Orison of Saint Apolonia, if you know it, and Ile go thither presently, and you shall see wonders.  
Wretch that I am( quoth shee) the Orison of Saint Apolonia quoth you, that were, if my Master had the toothache, but his pain is in his head. I know what I say( quoth he) and do not you dispute with me, since you know I haue proceeded bachelor at Salamanca: do ye think there is no more then to take the degree( said he?) With that, away she goes: and he went presently to seek the Vicar, and communicate with him, what shall be said hereafter.  
At the time that Don Quixote and Sancho were locked together, there passed a discourse between them, which the history tells with much punctualitie, and a true relation.  
Sancho said to his Master, I haue now reluc't my wife to let me go with you whither soever you please; reduct you would say, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote.) I haue bid you more then once( if I haue not forgotten) said Sancho, that you do not correct my words, if so be you understand my meaning, and when you do not understand them, cry, Sancho, or divell, I understand thee not: and if I do not express myself, then you may correct me, for I am so focible.  
I understand thee not, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) for I know not the meaning of your focible. So focible is( said Sancho) I am so, so. less and less do I understand( said Don Quixote.) Why if you do not understand( said Sancho) I cannot do withall, I know no more,& God be with me. Thou meanest docible I beleeue, and that thou art so pliant, and so taking, that thou wilt apprehended what I shall tell thee, and learn what I shal instruct thee in.  
Ile lay a wager( said Sancho) you preached and understood me at first, but that you would put me out, and hear me blunder out a hundreth or two of follies. It may bee so( quoth Don Quixote) but what says Teresa? Teresa bids me make sure work with you, and that wee may haue less saying, and more doing, for great sayers are small doers. A bide in the hand, is worth two in the bush. And I say, a womans advice is but slender, yet he that refuseth it, is a madman. I say so too( quoth Don Quixote:) But say( friend Sancho) proceed, for to day thou speakest preciously.  
The business is( quoth Sancho) that as you better know then I, wee are all mortal, here to day, and gone to morrow, as soon goes the young lamb to the roast, as the old sheep, and no man can promise himself more daies then God hath given him, for death is deaf, and when she knocks at lifes door, she is in hast, neither threats, nor entreaties, nor sceptres, nor mitres can stay her, as the common voice goes, and as they tell us in Pulpits.  
All this is true( said Don Quixote) but I know not where thou meanest to stop. My stop is( quoth Sancho) that your Worship allow me some certain wages by 
The custom of spain is, to pay their seruants wages by the month.  the month, for the time that I shall serve you, and that the said wages be paid me out of your substance, for Ile trust no longer to good turns, which come either slowly, or meanly, or never, God give me ioy of mine own. In a word, I must know what I may gain, little or much: for the hen lays as well vpon one egg as many, and many littles make a mickle, and whilst something is gotten, nothing is lost. indeed, if it should so happen( which I neither beleeue, nor hope for) that your Worship should give me the iceland you promised me, I am not so ungrateful, nor would carry things with such extremity, as not to haue the rent of that iceland prized, and so to discount for the wages I received, cantitie for cantitie. Is not quantity as much worth as cantitie, friend Sancho, answered Don Quixote? I understand you now, said Sancho, and dare lay any thing that I should haue said quantity, and not cantitie: but that's no matter, seeing you haue understood me. I understand ye very well( answered Don Quixote) and haue penterated the utmost of your thoughts, and know very well, what mark you aim at, with the innumerable arrows of your proverbs.  
look ye, Sancho, I could willingly afford you wages, if I had found in any Histories of Knights errand, any example that might give me light, through the least chink, of any wages given monthly or yearly: but I haue red all, or the most part of their Histories, and do not remember that ever I haue red, that any Knight errand hath allowed any set wages to his Squire. Only I know, that all lived vpon countenance, and when they least dreamed of it, if their Masters had had good lucke, they were rewarded, either with an iceland or some such thing equivalent, and at least they remained with honour and title.  
If you, Sancho, vpon these hopes and additaments haue a mind to return to my service, a Gods name; but to think that I will pluck the old use of Knight Errantry out of his bounds, and off the hinges, is a mere impossibility. So that, Sancho, you may go home, and tell your Teresa mine intention; and if that shee and you will rely vpon my favour, been quidem; and if not, let's part friends; for if my pigeon-house haue Comyns, it will want no doves. And take this by the way, A good expectation is better then a bad possession, and a good demand better then an ill pay. I speak thus, Sancho, that you may see, I know as well as you, to sprinkle proverbs like raine-showres. Lastly, let me tell you, if you will not trust to my reward, and run the same fortune with me, God keep you, and make you a Saint, for I shall not want more obedient Squires, and more careful, and not so irksome, nor so talkative as you.  
When Sancho heard his Masters firm resolution, he waxed cloudy, and the wings of his heart began to stoop; for he thought verily his Master would not go without him, for all the treasure in the world. Thus being doubtful and pensative, Samson Carrasco entred, and the niece desirous to hear how he persuaded her Master that he should not return to his adventures.  
In came Samson, a notable Crack-rope, and embracing him as at first, began in this loud key: Oh flower of chivalry, bright light of arms, honour and mirror of our Spanish nation: may it please almighty God of his infinite goodness, that he, or they, that hinder or disturb this thy third sally, that they never find it in the Labyrinth of their desires, nor let the ill they wish, for ever be accomplished. And turning to the old woman, he said: You need no longer pray the Orison of Saint Apolonia, for I know, the determination of the spheres, is, that Don Quixote put in execution his lofty and new designs, and I should much burden my conscience, if I should not persuade and intimate unto this Knight, that he do no longer withdraw and hold back the force of his valorous arm, and the courage of his most valiant mind, for with his delaying he defraudes the rectifying of wrongs, the protection of Orphans, the honor of Damsels, the bulwark of married women, and other matters of this quality, which concern, appertain, depend,& are annexed unto the order of Knight Errantrie. Go on then, my beautiful, my brave Don Quixote, rather to day then to morrow, let your greatness be vpon the way, and if any thing be wanting to your journey, here am I to supply with my wealth, with my person, and if need be, to be thy Magnificence his Squire, which I shall hold a most happy fortune. Then( said Don Quixote) turning to Sancho, Did not I tell thee, Sancho, that I should want no Squires? See who offers himself to me: the most rare bachelor Samson Carrasco, the perpetual darling and delighter of the Salamancan schools, sound and active of body, silent, suffering of heats and coldes, hunger and thirst, with all the abilities that belong to the Squire of a Knight errand: but heaven forbid, that for my pleasure, I hox and break off the column of learning, the vessel of Sciences, and that I lop off the eminent branch of the liberal Arts: remain thou another Samson in thy country, honour it, and those gray hairs of thine aged Parents, for I will content myself with any Squire, since Sancho daignes not to attend me.  
I do deign, said Sancho,( all tender) and the tears standing in his eyes, and thus proceeds: It shall not be said, Master, for me, No longer pipe, no longer dance; Nor am I made of hardest oak, for all the world knows, and especially my town, who the Pansa's were, from whom I descend; besides, I know and haue preached out, by many good works,& many good words, the desire that your Worship hath to do me a kindness, and if I haue been too blame to meddle in reckonings concerning my wages, it was to please my wife, who when shee once falls into a vain of persuading, there's no hammer that doth so fasten the hoops of a Bucket as shee doth, till shee obtain what she would haue; but howsoever, the husband must be husband, and the wife, wife; and since I am a man every where( I cannot deny that) I will also bee so at home, in spite of any: so that there's no more to bee done, but that you make your will, and set to your codicil, in such sort, that it may not bee reuolked, and let's strait to our journey, that Mr. Samsons soul may not suffer; for he saith, his conscience is unquiet, till he haue persuaded you to your third sally thorough the world, and I afresh offer my service faithfully& loyally, as well and better then any Squire that ever served Knight errand in former times, or in present.  
The bachelor wondered to hear Sancho's manner and method of speaking: for though in the first history he had red of his Master, he never thought Sancho had been so witty, as they there paint him out, yet hearing him now mention will and codicil, reuolking in stead of revoking, he believed all that he had red of him, and confirmed him to be one of the most solemnest Cox-combes of our age, and said to himself, that two such mad men, as Master and man, were not in all the world again.  
Now Don Quixote and Sancho embraced, and remained friends, and with the grand Carrasco's approbation and good will( who was then their Oracle) it was decreed, that within three daies they should depart, in which they might haue time to provide all things necessary for their voyage, and to get an helmet, which Don Quixote said, he must by all means carry. Samson offered him one, for he knew a friend of his would not deny it him, although it were fowler with mould and rust, then bright with smooth steel.  
The niece and the old woman cursed the bachelor unmercifully, they tore their hair, scratched their faces, and as your funeral mourners use, they howled at their Masters departure, as if he had been a dead man. The design that Samson had to persuade him to this third sally, was, to do what the History tells us hereafter, all by the advice of the Vicar and the Barber, to whom he had before communicated it. Well, in those three dayes, Don Quixote and Sancho fitted themselves with what they thought they needed, and Sancho having set down the time to his wife, and Don Quixote to his niece, and the old woman, toward night, without taking leave of any body, but the Bachelor, who would needs bring them half a league from the town, they took their way towards Toboso. Don Quixote vpon his good Rozinante, and Sancho on his old Dapple, his wallets were stuffed with provant, and his purse with money that Don Quixote gave him for their expenses. Samson embraced him,& desired him that he might hear of his good or ill fortune, to rejoice for the one, or bee sorry for the other, as the law of friendship did require; Don Quixote made him a promise. Samson returned home, and the two went on towards the famous City of Toboso.   

CHAP. VIII.  
What befell Don Quixote, going to see his Mistris Dulcinea deal Toboso.  
BLessed be the powerful Ala( saith Hamete Benengeli) at 
Ala amongst the Moores, is as much as Mahomet amongst the Turkes.  the beginning of this eighth Chapter: Blessed bee Ala, which he thrice repeated, and said, that he rendered these benedictions, to see that now Don Quixote and Sancho were vpon their march, and that the Readers of their delightful History may reckon, that from this time the exploits and conceits of Don Quixote and his Squire do begin: he persuades them they should forget the former chivalry of the noble Knight, and fix their eyes vpon his Acts to come, which begin now in his way towards Toboso, as the former did in the fields of Montiel, and it is a small request, for so much as he is to perform, so he proceeds, saying:  
Don Quixote and Sancho were now all alone, and Samson was scarce gone from them, when Rozinante began to neigh, and Dapple to sigh; which, both by Knight and Squire were held for lucky signs, and an happy presaging, though if the truth were told, Dapples sighs and brayings were more then the Horses neighing: whereupon Sancho collected, that his fortune should exceed and over top his Masters; building, I know not vpon what judicial astrology, that sure he knew, although the History says nothing of it, onely he would often say, when he fell down or stumbled, he would haue been glad, not to haue gone abroad: for of stumbling or falling came nothing, but tearing his shoes, or breaking a rib, and though he were a fool, yet he was not out in this.  
Don Quixote said unto him; Friend Sancho, the night comes on us apace, and it will grow too dark for us, to reach Toboso ere it be day, whither I am determined to go, before I undertake any adventure, and there I mean to receive a benediction, and take leave of the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso, after which I know and am assured, I shall end and close up every dangerous adventure; for nothing makes Knights errand more hardy, then to see themselves favoured by their Mistresses. I beleeue it( quoth Sancho) but I doubt you will not speak with her, at least, not see her where you may receive her blessing, if shee give you it not from the mud-wals, where I saw her the first time, when I carried the letter and news of your mad pranks, which you were playing in the heart of Sierra Morena.  
Were those mud-wals in thy fancy, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) where or thorough which thou sawest that neuer-enough-praised gentleness and beauty? They were not so, but galleries, walks, or goodly ston pavements, or how call ye vin? of rich and royal Palaces. All this might bee( answered Sancho) but to me they seemed no better, as I remember. Yet let's go thither( quoth Don Quixote) for so I see her; let them be mud-wals, or not, or windows; all is one, whether I see her thorough chincks, or thorough garden-lettices, for each ray that comes from the sun of her brightness to mine eyes, will lighten mine understanding, and strengthen mine heart, and make me sole and rare in my wisdom and valour.  
truly Sir( said Sancho) when I saw that sun, it was not so bright, that it cast any rays from it, and belike twas, that as she was winnowing the wheat I  told you of, the dust that came from it, was like a cloud vpon her face and dimmed it. Still dost thou think, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote?) Beleeue and grow obstinate, that my Mistris Dulcinea was winnowing, it being a labour so unfit for persons of quality, that use other manner of exercises and recreation, which show a flight-shoot off their nobleness? Thou dost ill remember those verses of our Poet, where he paints out unto us, the exercises which those four nymphs used in their crystal habitations, when they advanced their heads above the loved 
A river in spain.  Tagus, and sat in the green fields working those rich embroyderies, which the ingenious Poet there describes unto us, all which were of gold, of purle, and woven with embossed pearls: such was the work of my Mistris, when thou sawest her, but that the envy, which some base Enchanter bears to mine affairs, turns all that should give me delight, into-different shapes, and this makes me fear, that the history of my exploits which is in print( if so be some Wizard my enemy were the Author) that he hath put one thing for another, mingling with one truth a hundreth lies, diverting himself to tell tales, not fitting the continuing of a true history. Oh envy thou roote of infinite evils, thou worm of virtues.  
All vices, Sancho, do bring a kind of pleasure with them, but envy hath nothing but distaste, rancour and raving. I am of that mind too( said Sancho)& I think that in the history that Carrasco  told us of, that he had seen of us, that my credit is turned topsy turuy, and( as they say) goes a begging. Well, as I am honest man, I never spoken ill of any Enchanter, neither am I so happy as to be envied: true it is, that I am somewhat malicious, and haue certain knavish glimpses: but all is covered and hide under the large cloak of my simplicity, always natural to me, but never artificial: and if there were nothing else in me, but my belief( for I beleeue in God, and in all that the roman Church believes, and am sworn a mortal enemy to the Iewes) the Historians ought to pity me, and to use me well in their writings: but let vm say what they will, naked was I born, naked I am, I neither win nor lose, and though they put me in books, and carry me up and down from hand to hand, I care not a fig, let vm say what they will.  
'twas just the same( quoth Don Quixote) that happened to a famous Poet of our times, who having made a malicious satire against all the courtesans, he left out one amongst them, as doubting whether she were one or no, who seeing she was not in the scroll amongst the rest, took it unkindly from the Poet, asking him, what he had seen in her, that he should not put her amongst the rest, and desired him to enlarge his satire, and put her in the spare room: if not, she would scratch out his eyes: the Poet consented, and set her down with a vengeance, and shee was satisfied, to see herself famous, although indeed infamous. Besides, the tale of the shepherd agrees with this, that set Diana's Temple on fire, which was one of the seven wonders of the world, because he would bee talked of for it; and although there were an Edict, that no man should either mention him by speaking or writing, that he might not attain to his desire; yet his name was known to be Erostratus: the same allusion may be had out of an Accident, that befell the great Emperor Charles the fift with a Knight of Rome.  
The Emperour was desirous to see the famous Temple of the Rotunda, which in ancient times was called the Temple of all the Gods, and now by a better style, of all Saints, and it is the only entire edisice that hath remained of all the Gentiles in Rome, and that which doth most conserve the Glory and Magnificence of it's founders: tis made like an half Orange, exceeding large, and very lightsome, having but one window that gives it light, or to say truer, but one round Loouer on the top of it: the Emperour looking on the edisice, there was a roman Knight with him, that shewed him the devices and contriving of that great work and memorable architecture; and stepping from the Loouer, said to the Emperour: a thousand times, mighty Monarch, haue I desired to see your majesty, and cast myself down from this Loouer, to leave an everlasting famed behind me. I thank you( said the Emperour) that you haue not performed it, and henceforward, I will give you no such occasion to show your loyalty, and therefore I command you, that you neither speak to me, nor come to my presence; and for all these words, he rewarded him.  
I'll tell you, Sancho, this desire of honour is an itching thing: What dost thou think cast Horatius from the Bridge all armed into deep tiber? What egged Curtius to launch himself into the Lake? What made Mutius burn his hand? What forced Caesar against all the soothsayers to pass the Rubicon? And to give you more modern examples, What was it bored those ships, and left those valorous Spaniards on ground, guided by the most courteous Cortez in the new world?  
All these, and other great and several exploits, are, haue been, and shall be the works of famed, which mortals desire as a reward, and part of the immortality, which their famous artes deserve: though we that be Christian catholic Knights errand, must look more to the happiness of another world( which is eternal in the Ethereall and celestial regions) then to the vanity of famed, which is gotten in this present frail age, and which, let it last as long as it will, it must haue ending with this world which hath its limited time: so that, oh Sancho, our actions must not pass the bounds, that Christian Religion( which wee profess) hath put us in.  
In giants we must kill pride: envy in generousnesse and noble breasts: anger in a continent reposed and quiet mind: riot and drowzinesse, in temperance and vigilance: lasciviousness, in the loyalty we observe to those that we haue made the Mistresses of our thoughts: and sloth, by traveling up& down the world, seeking occasions, that may make us( besides Christians) famous Knights. These, Sancho, are the means, by which the extremes of glory are obtained, which famed brings with it.  
All that you haue hitherto spoken( quoth Sancho) I understand passing well: but I would fain haue you zolue me of one doubt, which even now comes into my head. resolve, thou wouldst say Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) speak a Gods name, for I'leanswer thee, as well as I can. Tell me, sir, said Sancho, these Iulies, or Augusts, and all these famous Knights you talk of, that are dead, where are they now? The Gentiles, said he, undoubtedly are in Hell: the Christians, if they were good Christians, either in 
According to the Romish opinion, erroneous.  purgatory, or in Hell. Tis very well, but the sepulchres where the bodies of these great Lordings lie interred, haue they 
relics that use to be hanged up in the Papists Churches.  silver lamps burning before them, or are their chapel walls decked with Crutches, winding sheets, periwigs, legs, and wax eyes? and if not with these, with what? The sepulchres of the Gentiles( said Don Quixote) were for the most part, sumptuous Temples, the ashes of Iulius Caesars body were put vpon a huge pyramid of ston, which at this day, is called Saint Peters needle. The Emperour Adrians Sepulchre was a great Castle as big as a pretty village, it was called Moles Adriani, and at this day, the Castle of Saint Angelo in Rome: queen Artemisia butted her husband Manseolus in a Sepulchre, which was held to be one of the seven wonders of the world: but none of all these, nor many others the Gentiles had, were decked with winding sheets, nor any kind of offerings or signs that testified, they were Saints that were butted in them.  
That's it I come to( said Sancho:) and tell me now, which is more, to raise a dead man, or to kill a giant? The answer is at hand( said Don Quixote:) To raise a dead man. There I caught you( quoth Sancho) then, the famed of him that raiseth the dead, gives sight to the blind, makes the lame walk, restoreth sick men, who hath lamps burning before his Sepulchre, whose chapel is full of devout people, which vpon their knees adore his relics, this man hath greater renown, and in another world, then ever any of your gentle Emperours, or Knights errand ever left behind them.  
I grant you that( qd. Don Quixote); well, answered Sancho, this famed, these graces, these prerogatives, how call ye vm? haue the bodies and relics of Saints, that, by the approbation& licence of our holy Mother the Church, haue their lamps, their lights, their winding sheets, their crutches, their pictures, their heads of hair, their eyes, and legs, by which they increase mens deuotions, and endear their Christian famed; Kings carry the bodies of Saints, or their relics vpon their shoulders, they kiss the pieces of their bones, and do deck, and enrich their chapels with them, and their most precious altars.  
What will you haue me infer from all this, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote?) I mean( said Sancho) that we endeavour to be Saints, and we shall the sooner obtain the famed we look after: and let me tell you sir, that yesterday or tother day,( for so I may say, it being not long since) there were two poor barefoot Friers canonised or beautified, and now many think themselves happy, to kiss or touch, those iron chains, with which they gird and tormented their bodies, and they are more reverenced, then is( as I said) Roldans sword in the Armorie of our Lord the King,( God save him:) So that( Master mine) better it is, to be a poor friar of what order soever, then a valiant Knight errand: a dozen or two of lashes obtain more at Gods hands, then two thousand blows with the lance, whether they be given to giants, to Spirits, or Hobgoblins.  
Al this is true( answered Don Quixote:) but al cannot be Friers, and God Almighty hath many ways, by which he carries his Elect to heaven: Cauallerie is a religion, and you haue many Knights Saints in heaven. That may be( said Sancho) but I haue heard, you haue more Friers there, then Knights errand. That is( quoth Don Quixote) because the Religious in number are more then the Knights. But there are many Knights errand( said Sancho.) Many indeed( quoth Don Quixote) but few that deserve the name.  
In these and such like discourses they passed the whole night, and the next day, without lighting vpon any thing, worth relation, for which, Don Quixote was not a little sorry: at last, the next day toward night they discovered the goodly city of Toboso, with which sight Don Quixotes spirits were revived, but Sancho's dulled, because he knew not Dulcineas house, nor ever saw her in his life, no more then his Master, so that, the one to see her, and the other, because he had not seen her, were at their wits end, and Sancho knew not how to do, if his Master should sand him to Toboso: but Don Quixote resolved to enter the city in the night, and till the time came, they ovid between certain oaks, that were near Toboso; and the prefixed moment being come, they entred the city, where they lighted vpon things, thingsindeede.   

CHAP. IX.  
Where is set down as followeth.  
MIdnight was near spun out, when Don Quixote and Sancho left the mountain, and entred the city: the town was all hushed, and the dwellers were asleep, with their legs stretched at length,( as they say:) the night was brightsome, though Sancho wished it had been darker, that he might not see his madness: the dogges in the town did nothing but bark and thunder in Don Quixotes ears, and affrighted Sancho's heart: now and then an ass brayed, Hogs grunted, Cats mewed, whose different howlings were augmented with the silent night: all which the enamoured Knight held to be ominous: but yet he spoken to Sancho, son Sancho( said he) guide to Dulcinea's Palace: it may be, we shall find her waking. Body of the sun( quoth Sancho) to what Palace shall I guide? for where I saw her Highnesse, it was a little house. Belike( quoth Don Quixote) she was retired into some corner of her Palace, to solace herself in private with her Damozels, as great Ladies and Princesses use to do. sir,( quoth Sancho) since, whether I will or no, you will haue my Mistris Dulcinea's house to be a Palace, do ye think nevertheless, this to be a fit time of night to find the door open in? do you think it fit, that we bounce, that they may hear and let us in, to disquiet the whole town? are we going to a body house think ye? Like your whoremasters, that come, and call, and enter, at what hour they list, how late soever it be? First of all, to make one thing sure, let's find the Palace, replied Don Quixote, and then, Sancho, I'll tell thee what's fit to be done: and look, Sancho, either my sight failes me, or that great Bulk and shadow that we see, is Dulcinea's Palace.  
Well, guide on sir,( said Sancho) it may be it is so, though I'll first see it with my eyes, and feel it with my hands, and beleeue it, as much as it is now day. Don Quixote lead on, and having walked about some two hundreth paces, he lighted on the Bulk that made the shadow, and saw a great steeple, which he perceived was not the Palace, but of the chief Church in the town. Then said he, Sancho, we are come to the Church. I see it very well( quoth Sancho) and I pray God, wee come not to our graues: for it is no good sign to haunt Church-yards so late, especially since I  told you( as I remember) that this Ladies house is in a little ally without passage thorough. A pox on thee blockhead( said Don Quixote) where hast thou ever found, that Kings houses and Palaces haue been built in such Allies? sir,( quoth Sancho) every country hath their several fashions: It may be, here, in Toboso, they build their great buildings thus, and therefore pray sir, give me leave, to look up and down the Streets, or Lanes that lye in my way, and it may be, that in some corner I may light vpon this Palace( the divell take it) that thus mocks and misleades vs. speak mannerly, sir,( quoth Don Quixote) of my Mistrisses things, and let's be merry and wise, and cast not the rope after the bucket.  
I will forbear( said Sancho) but how shall I endure, that you will needs haue me be thoroughly acquainted with a house, I never saw but once, and to find it at midnight, being you cannot find it, that haue seen it a million of times? Sirrah, I shall grow desperate( quoth Don Quixote) come hither heretic. Haue not I  told thee a thousand times, that I never saw the peerless Dulcinea, nor never crossed the thresholds of her Palace, and that I only am enamoured on her by hearsay, and the great famed of her beauty and discretion? Why now I hear you( said Sancho) and since you say, you haue never seen her; nor I neither. That cannot be( said Don Quixote) for you  told me at least, that you had seen her winnowing of wheat, when you brought me the answer of the letter I sent by you. Ne're stand vpon that( said Sancho) for let me tell you, that I only saw her by hearsay too,& so was the answer I brought: for I know her as well, as I can box the moon. Sancho, Sancho,( said Don Quixote) ther's a time to laugh, and a time to mourn. Not because I say, I haue neither seen, nor spoken to the Mistris of my soul, shouldst thou say, thou hast neither seen, nor spoken to her, it being otherwise( as thou knowest.) Being in this discourse, they saw one passing by vm with two Mules, and by the noise the plough made which they drew vpon the ground, they might see it was some husbandman, that rose by break of day, to go to his tillage, and so it was: as he came, he went singing that Romante, of the battle of Roncesualles with the Frenchmen.  
In hearing of which( quoth Don Quixote) Sancho, hang me, if we haue any good fortune this night. do not you hear what this clown sings? Yes mary do I( said Sancho) but what doth the Chase of Roncesualles concern us? Tis no more then if he had sung the Romante of 
As if we should haue s●id in Engl●… h, Cheute Ch●se, or such like.  Calanios, and all one, for our good or ill lucke in this business.  
By this the ploughman came by them: and Don Quixote questioned him: Can you tell me friend( so God reward you) which is the Palace of the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso? Sir( answered the young man) I am a stranger, and haue lived but a while in this town, and serve a rich husbandman to till his ground; here ouer-against, the Vicar and the Sexton both live, any of them will tell you of this Lady princess, as having a List of all the inhabitants of Toboso; although I think, there is no such princess here, but many Gentlefolkes, each of which may be a princess in her own house. Why friend( quoth Don Quixote) it may be, that shee I ask for, is amongst these. It may be so( said the fellow) and God speed you, for now it begins to be day peep: and switching his Mules, he stayed for no more questions.  
Sancho seeing his Master in a deep suspense, and very malcontent,  told him: sir, the day comes on apace, and it will not be so fit, that we sun ourselves in the street: it is better to go out of the city, and that you shade yourself in some grove here abouts, and I will come back anon, and not leave a byplace in all this town, where I may search for the House, Castle, or Palace of my Lady, and it were ill lucke, if I found her not: and if I do, I will speak with her, and let her know, where, and how you do, expecting, that she give you order and direction, how you may see her, without prejudice to her honour and good name.  
Sancho,( said Don Quixote) thou hast spoken a thousand sentences, enclosed in the circled of thy short discourse: The advice that thou hast now given me, I hunger after, and most lovingly accept of it: Come, son, let us take shade, and thou shalt return( as thou sayest) to seek, to see, and to speak to my Mistris, from whose discretion and courtesy, I hope for a thousand miraculous favours. Sancho stood vpon thorns, till he had drawn his Master from the town, lest he should verify the lye of the answer, that he had carried him from Dulcinea, to Sierra Morena. So he hastened him to be gone, which was presently done, some two miles from the town, where they found a forest, or wood, where Don Quixote took shade: and Sancho returned to the city to speak with Dulcinea, in which embassy matters befell him, that require a new attention, and a new belief.   

CHAP. X.  
How Sancho cunningly enchanted the Lady Dulcinea, and other successses, as ridiculous as true.  
THe author of this history coming to relate that which he doth, in this Chapter says; That he would willingly haue passed it over in silence, as fearing not to be believed; because here Don Quixotes madness did exceed, and was at least two flight-shoots beyond his greatest that ever was: but for all this fear and suspicion, he set it down as tother acted it, without adding or diminishing the least jot of truth in the History, not caring for any thing that might bee objected against him for a liar, and he had reason; for truth is stretched, but never breaks, and tramples on the lye, as oil doth vpon water; and so prosecuting his History, he says, that as Don Quixote had shaded himself in the forest or Oake-wood near the Grand Toboso, he willed Sancho to return to the City, and not to come to his presence, without he had first spoken to his Mistris from him, requesting her, that she would please to be seen by her captived Knight, and to deign to bestow her blessing on him, that by it, he might hope for many most prosperous successses, in all his onsets and dangerous enterprizes. Sancho took on him to fulfil his command, and to bring him now as good an answer as the former.  
go, Lad,( said Don Quixote) and bee not daunted when thou comest before the beams of the sun of Beauty, which thou goest to discover; Oh happy thou, above all the Squires of the world, be mindful, and forget not how she entertains thee; if she blushy just at the instant, when thou deliverest my embassy; if she be stirred& troubled when she hears my name; whether her cushion cannot hold her; if she be set in the rich state of her Authority: and if she stand up, mark her whether she clap sometimes one foot vpon another; if she repeat the answer shee gives thee, twice or thrice over; or change it from mild to cursed; from cruel to amorous; whether shee seem to order her hair, though it be not disordered: Lastly, observe all her actions and gestures; for if thou relate them, just as they were, I shall guess what is hidden in her heart, touching my love in matter of fact: For know, Sancho, if thou knowest it not, that the actions and outward motions that appear( when love is in treaty) are the certain messengers that bring news of what passeth within. go, Friend, and better fortune guide thee then mine, and sand thee better success then I can expect twixt hope and fear, in this uncouth solitude in which thou leavest me.  
I go( said Sancho) and will return quickly; Enlarge that little heart of yours no bigger then an Hasell-nut, and consider the saying, Faint heart never, &c. Sweet meat must haue sour sauce: And another, Where wee least think, there goes the Hare away. This I say, because that if to night wee found not the Cattle or Palace of my Lady, now by day I doubt not but to find it, when I least dream of it, and so to find her. Beleeue me, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) thou always bringest thy proverbs so to the hair of the business wee treat of, as God give me no worse fortune then I desire.  
This said, Sancho turned his back, and switched his Dapple, and Don Quixote stayed a horseback, easing himself on his stirrups, and leaning on his lance, full of sorrowful and confused thoughts, where we will leave him, and wend with Sancho, who partend from his Master no less troubled and pensative then he; insomuch, that he was scarce out of the wood, when turning his face, and seeing that Don Quixote was out of sight, he lighted from his ass, and resting at the foot of a three, he began to discourse thus to himself, and say: Now, brother Sancho, I pray let's know whither is your Worship going? To seek some ass that you haue lost? No forsooth. Well, what is it you seek for? I seek( a matter of nothing) a princess, and in her the sun of Beauty, and all heaven withall. And where do ye think to find this you speak of, Sancho? Where? Why in the Grand City of Toboso. Well, and from whom do ye seek her? From the most famous Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, he that righteth wrongs, 
Mistakes of simplicity.  gives the thirsty meat, and the hungry drink. All this is well: and do you know her house, Sancho? My Master says, It is a royal Palace, or a lofty tower. And haue you ever seen her, trow? Neither he nor I, never. And do you think it were well, that the men of Toboso should know, that you were here to entice their Princesses, and to trouble their wenches, and should come and grind your ribs with bangs, and leave you never a sound bone? Indeed belike they should consider that you are commanded, friend, but as a messenger, that you are in no fault, not you. Trust not to that, Sancho, for your Manchegan people are as choleric, as honest, and do not love to bee jested with. In very deed, if they smell you, you are sure to pay for it. Ware hawk, ware hawk: No, no, let me for anothers pleasure seek better bread then's made of wheat; and I may as well find this Dulcinea, as one Mary in 
As if wee should say, one Ione in London.  Robena, or a scholar in black in Salamanca: The devill, the devill, and none else hath clapped me into this business. This Soliloquy passed Sancho with himself, and the upshot was this:  
All things( said he) haue a remedy but death, under whose yoke wee must all pass in spite of our teethes, when life ends. This Master of mine, by a thousand signs that I haue seen, is a Bedlam, fit to be bound, and I come not a whit short of him, and am the greater coxcomb of two, to serve him, if the proverb be true that says, Like master, like man; and another; Thou art known by him that doth thee feed, not by him that doth thee breed. he being thus mad then, and subject, out of madness, to mistaking of one thing for another, to judge black for white, and white for black, as appeared, when he said the winde-mils were giants, and the Friers mules, Dromedaries, and the flocks of sheep, armies of enemies, and much more to this tune; it will not be hard to make him beleeue, that some husband-mans daughter, the first we meet with, is the Lady Dulcinea: and if he beleeue it not, Ile swear; and if he swear, Ile out-sweare him; and if he be obstinate, Ile be so more: and so, that I will stand to my tackling, come what will on it. Perhaps with mineobstinacy I shall so prevail with him, that he will sand me no more vpon these kind of messages, seeing what bad dispatch I bring him: or perhaps he will think, that some wicked Enchanter, one of those that he says persecute him, hath changed her shape, to vex him.  
With this conceit Sancho's spirit was at rest, and he thought his business was brought to a good pass: and so staying there till it grew to be toward the evening, that Don Quixote might think he spent so much time in going and coming from Toboso, all fell out happily for him: for when he got up to mount vpon Dapple, he might see three Countrey-wenches coming towards him from Toboso, vpon three Asse-Colts, whether male or female, the Author declares not, though it bee likely they were shee-asses, they being the ordinary beasts that those Countrey-people ride on: but because it is not very pertinent to the story, we need not stand much vpon deciding that. In fine, when Sancho saw the three Countrey-wenches, he turned back apace to find out his Master Don Quixote, and found him sighing, and uttering a thousand amorous lamentations.  
As soon as Don Quixote saw him, he said; How now, Sancho, what is the matter? May I mark this day with a white or a black ston? 'twere fitter( quoth Sancho) you would mark it with read ochre, as the Inscriptions are vpon professors chairs, that they may plainly red that see them. Belike then( quoth Don Quixote) thou bringest good news. So good( said Sancho) that you need no more but spur Rozinante, and strait discover the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, with two Damozels waiting on her, coming to see your Worship. Blessed God! friend Sancho, what sayest thou( quoth Don Quixote?) See thou deceive me not with thy false mirth to glad my true sorrow.  
What should I get by deceiving you( quoth Sancho) the rather yourself being so near to discover the truth? spur, Sir, ride on, and you shall see our Mistris the princess coming, clad indeed and adorned like herself: She and her Damozels are a very spark of gold: They are all ropes of pearl, all Diamonds, all Rubies, all cloth of gold, ten stories high at least: Their hairs hung loose over their shoulders, that were like so many sunbeams playing with the wind, and besides all this, they are mounted vpon three flea-bitten Nackneyes, the finest sight that can be. hackneys thou wouldst say, Sancho. Hackney or Nackney( quoth Sancho) there is little difference: but let them come vpon what they will, they are the bravest Ladies, that can be imagined, especially, My lady the princess Dulcinea that dazels the sences.  
Let's go, son Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) and for a reward for this unlooked for good news, I bequeath thee the best spoil I get in our first adventure next, and if this content thee not, I give thee my this yeeres colts by my three Mares thou knowest I haue to foal in our town Common. The Colts I like( quoth Sancho:) but for the goodness of the spoil of the first adventure I haue no mind to that. By this they came out of the wood, and saw the three Country wenches near them. Don Quixote stretched his eyes, all over Toboso way, and seeing none but the three wenches, he was somewhat troubled, and demanded of Sancho, if he had left them coming out of the city. How, out of the city( qd. Sancho:) are your eyes in your noddle, that you see them not coming here, shining as bright as the sun at noon? I see none, said he, but three Wenches vpon three Asses.  
Now God keep me from the devill( quoth Sancho:) and is it possible that three hackneys, or how call ye vm, as white as a flake of snow, should appear to you to be Asses? As sure as may be, you shall pull off my beard if that be so. Well, I tell you, friend Sancho, tis as sure that they are he, or Shee Asses, as I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, and thou Sancho Pansa; at least to me they seem so.  
Peace, sir( quoth Sancho) and say not so, but snuff your eyes, and reverence the Mistris of your thoughts, for now she draws near: and so saying, he advanced to meet the three Countrey-wenches, and alighting from Dapple, took one of their Asses by the halter, and fastening both his knees to the ground, said, queen, and princess, and duchess of beauty, let you haughtiness and greatness be pleased, to receive into your grace and good liking, your captived Knight that stands yonder turned into marble, all-amazed and without his pulse, to see himself before your Magnificent Presence. I am Sancho Pansa his Squire, and he is the Way-beaten Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance.  
And now Don Quixote was on his knees by Sancho, and beholded with vnglad, but troubled eyes, her that Sancho called queen and Lady; but seeing he discovered nothing in her but a Countrey-wench, and not very well-fauoured, for shee was blub-fac'd, and flat-nosed; he was in some suspense,& durst not once open his lips. The wenches too were astonished, to see those two so different men vpon their knees, and that they would not let their companion go forward. But she that was stayed, angry to hear herself mis-vsed, broken silence first, saying: Get you out of the way with a mischief, and let's be gone, for wee are in hast.  
To which( quoth Sancho) Oh princess and universal Lady of Toboso, why doth not your magnanimous heart relent, seeing the Pillar and Prop of Knight Errantry prostrated before your sublimated presence? Which when one of the other two heard, after she had cried out to her ass, that was turning aside, shee said: Look how these Yonkers come to mock at poor Countrey-folke, as if wee knew not how to return their flouts vpon them: get you gone your way, and leave us, you had best. Rise, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) at this instant, for I perceive now, that mine ill fortune, not satisfied, hath shut up all the passages by which any content might come to this my wretched soul within my flesh. Oh thou, the extreme of all worth to bee desired, the bound of all human gentleness, the only remedy of this mine afflicted heart that adores thee, now that the wicked Enchanter persecutes me, and hath put clouds and Cataracts in mine eyes, and for them onely, and none else, hath transformed and changed thy peerless beauty and face, into the face of a poor Countrey-wench, if so be now he haue not turned mine too into some Hobgoblin, to make it loathsome in thy sight, look on me gently and amorously, perceiving, by this submission and kneeling, which I use to thy counterfeit beauty, the humility with which my soul adores thee.  
Marry-muffe( quoth the Countrey-wench) I care much for your courtings: Get you gone, and let us go; and wee shall be beholding to you. Sancho let her pass by him, most glad that he had sped so well with his device. The Countrey-wench that played Dulcinea's part, was no sooner free, when spurring her Hackney with a prickle she had at the end of her cudgel, she began to run apace; and the ass feeling the smart of it more then ordinary, began to wince so fast, that down came my Lady Dulcinea: which when Don Quixote saw, he came to help her up, and Sancho went to order and gird her pack-saddle, that hung at the Asses belly; which being fitted, and Don Quixote about to lift his enchanted Mistris in his arms to her ass, shee being now got vpon her legs, saved him that labour; for stepping a little back, shee fetched a rise, and clapping both her hands vpon the Asses crupper, shee lighted as swift as an hawk vpon the pack-saddle, and sate astride like a man.  
Then said Sancho: By Saint Roque our Mistris is as light as a Robin-ruddocke, and may teach the cunningest cordovan or Mexicanian to ride on their Ginets: At one spring shee hath leaped over the crupper, and without spurs makes the Hackney run like a Muske-Car, and her Damozels come not short of her; for they fly like the wind. And he said true: for when Dulcinea was once on horseback, they all made after her, and set a running for two miles, without looking behind them.  
Don Quixote still looked after them, but when they were out of sight, turning to Sancho, he said; Sancho, how thinkest thou? How much Enchanters do hate me? And see how far their malice extends, and their aim at me, since they haue deprived me of the happiness I should haue received, to haue seen my Mistris in her true being. Indeed I was born to be an example of unfortunate men, to be the mark and Butt, at which Ill-Fortunes arrows should be sent. And thou must note, Sancho, that these Enchanters were not content to haue changed and transformed my Dulcinea: but they haue done it into a shape, so base& ugly, as of a Country-wench thou sawest,& withall, they haue taken from her, that which is so proper to her and great Ladies, to wit, her sweet sent of flowers and Ambers for let me tell thee, Sancho, that when I went to help Dulcinea to her Hackney( which as thou sayest, seemed to me to be a shee-Asse) she gave me such a breath of raw garlic, as pierced and intoxicated my brain.  
O base rout, cried out Sancho instantly. Oh dismal and ill minded Enchantors. I would I might see you all strung up together like Galls, or like Pilchers in shoals: cunning you are, much you can, and much you do: it had been enough for you, Rascals, to haue turned the pearls of my Ladies eyes, into Corky galls, and her most pure golden hair, into Bristles of a read Oxes tail, and finally, all her feature from good to bad, without meddling with her breath, for only by that, we might haue guessed, what was concealed under that course rind, though to say true, I never saw her coursenesse, but her beauty, which was infinitely increased by a mole she had vpon her lip, like a Mostacho, with seven or eight read hairs like threads of gold, and above a handful long. To this mole( quoth Don Quixote) according to the correspondency that those of the face haue, with those of the body, shee hath another in the Table of her thigh, that correspondes to the side, where that of her face is: but hairs of that length thou speakest of, are very much for moles. Well, I can tell you( quoth Sancho) that there they appeared, as if they had been born with her. I beleeue it, friend, replied Don Quixote: for nature could form nothing in Dulcinea that was not perfect and complete; and so, though she had a hundreth moles, as well as that one thou sawest in her, they were not moles, but moons and bright stars.  
But tell me, Sancho, that which thou didst set on, which seemed to me, to be a pack saddle, was it a plain saddle, or a saddle with a back? It was( said Sancho) a Ginet saddle, with a field covering, worth half a kingdom, for the richness of it. And could not I see all this? Well, now I say again, and will say it a thousand times, I am the vnhappiest man alive. The crack-rope Sancho had enough to do to hold laughter, hearing his Masters madness, that was so delicately gulled.  
Finally, after many other reasons that passed betwixt them both, they gate up on their beasts, and held on the way to Saragosa, where they thought to be fitly, to see the solemnities that are performed once every year in that famous city. But before they came thither, things befell them, that because they are many, famous and strange, they deserve to be written and red, as shall be seen here following.   

CHAP. XI.  
Of the strange adventure that befell Don Quixote, with the Cart or wagon of the Parliament of Death.  
DON Quixote went on, wonderful pensative, to think what a shrewd trick the Enchanters had played him, in changing his Mistris Dulcinea into the rustic shape of a Country Wench, and could not imagine what means he might use to bring her to her Pristine being; and these thoughts so distracted him, that carelessly he gave Rozinante the reins, who perceiving the liberty he had, stayed every stitch-while to feed vpon the green grass, of which those fields were full; but Sancho put him out of his Maze, saying: sir, Sorrow was not ordained for beasts, but men: yet if men do exceed in it, they become beasts, pray sir, recollect and come to yourself, and pluck up Rozinantes reins, revive and cheer yourself, show the courage that befits a Knight errand. What a devil's the matter? What faintness is this? are we dreaming on a dry Summer? Now Satan take all the Dulcineas in the world, since the welfare of one only Knight errand, is more worth then all the Enchantments and transformations in the world.  
Peace, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) with a voice now not very faint: peace, I say, an speak no blasphemies against that Enchanted Lady, for I only am in fault for her misfortune and unhappiness: her ill plight springs from the envy that Enchanters bear me. So say I too( quoth Sancho) for what heart sees her now, that saw her before, and doth not deplore? Thou mayst well say so, Sancho, replied Don Quixote, since thou sawest her, in her just entire beauty, and the Enchantment dimmed not thy sight, nor concealed her fairness: against me only, only against mine eyes the force of it's venom is directed.  
But for all that, Sancho, I haue fallen vpon one thing, which is, that thou didst ill describe her beauty to me: for if I forget not, thou saidst she had eyes of pearls, and such eyes are rather the eyes of a Sea-Breame then a faire Dames: but as I think, Dulcineas eyes are like two green Emeralds rared with two celestial Arkes, that serve them for eyebrows. And therefore for your pearls, take them from her eyes, and put them to her teeth: for doubtless, Sancho, thou mistook'st eyes for teeth. All this may be, said Sancho, for her beauty troubled me, as much as her foulness since hath done you; but leave we all to God, who is the knower of all things that befall us in this Vale of tears, in this wicked world, where there is scarce any thing without mixture of mischief, Impostorship, or villainy.  
One thing( Master mine) troubles me more then all the rest; to think what means there will be, when you overcome any giant or other Knight, and command him to present himself before the beauty of the Lady Dulcinea, where this poor giant, or miserable vanquished Knight shall find her. Me thinks I see vm go staring up and down Toboso, to find my Lady Dulcinea, and though they should meet her in the midst of the street, yet they would no more know her then my father.  
It may be, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) her Enchantment will not extend to take from vanquished and presented giants and Knights, the knowledge of Dulcinea: and therefore in one or two of the first I conquer and sand, we will make trial, whether they see her or no, commanding them, that they return to relate unto me what hath befallen them.  
I say sir,( quoth Sancho) I like what you haue said very well, and by this device we shall know what we desire; and if so be she be only hidden to you, your misfortune is beyond hers: but so my Lady Dulcinea haue health and content, we will bear and pass it over here as well as we may, seeking our adventures, and let time alone, who is the best physician for these and other infirmities.  
Don Quixote would haue answered Sancho Pansa: but he was interrupted by a wagon that came cross the way, loaden with the most different and strange personages and shapes, that might be imagined. He that guided the Mules, and served for waggoner, was an ugly devill. The Wagons self was open without Tilt or boughs. The first shape that presented itself to Don Quixotes eyes, was of Death herself, with a human face, and next her an Angel with large painted wings. On one side stood an Emperour, with a crown vpon his head, to see to of gold. At Deaths feet was the god called Cupid, not blind-folded, but with his Bow, his quiver, and arrows. There was also a Knight completely armed, only he had no murrain or headpiece, but a hat full of direct coloured plumes: with these there were other personages of different fashions and faces.  
All which seen on a sudden, in some sort troubled Don Quixote, and affrighted Sancho's heart, but strait Don Quixote was jocund, believing, that some rare and dangerous adventure was offered unto him, and with this thought, and a mind disposed to give the on set to any peril, he got himself before the waggon, and with a loud and threatening voice, cried out: Carter, Coach man, or devill, or whatsoe●re thou art, be not slow to tell me, who thou art, whither thou goest, and what people these are thou carriest in thy Cart coach, rather like Charons boat, then wagons now in use.  
To which, the devill staying the Cart, gently replied, sir, we are Players of Thomas Angulo's company, we haue played a play called the Parliament of Death, against this Corpus Christi tide, in a town behind the ridge of yonder mountain, and this afternoon we are to play it again at the town you see before us, which because it is so near, to save a labour of new attiring us, we go in the same clothes in which we are to Act. That young man plays Death: that other an Angel: that woman our Authors wife, the queen, a fourth there, a soldier, a fift the Emperour, and I the devill, which is one of the chiefest Actors in the play, for I haue the best part. If you desire to know any thing else of us, ask me, and I shall answer you most punctually, for as I am a devill, nothing is unknown to me.  
By the faith of a Knight errand( said Don Quixote) as soon as ever I saw this wagon, I imagined some strange adventure towards, and now I say it is fit to be fully satisfied of these apparitions, by touching them with our hands. God be with you, honest people: Act your play, and see whether you will command any thing wherein I may be serviceable to you, for I will be so most cheerfully and willingly: for since I was a boy, I haue loved Maske-shewes, and in my youth, I haue been ravished with stage-plays.  
Whilst they were thus discoursing, it fell out, that one of the company came toward them, clad for the fool in the Play, with Morrice-bels, and at the end of stick, he had three Cowes bladders full-blowne, who thus masked, running toward Don Quixote, began to fence with his cudgel, and to thwack the bladders vpon the ground, and to frisk with his bells in the air: which dreadful sight so troubled Rozinante, that Don Quixote not able to hold him in( for he had gotten the bridle betwixt his teeth) he fell a running up and down the field, much swifter then his anatomised bones made show for.  
Sancho, that considered in what danger of being thrown down his Master might bee, leaped from Dapple, and with all speed ran to help him; but by that time he came to him, he was vpon the ground, and Rozinante by him, for they both tumbled together. This was the common pass Rozinantes tricks and boldness came to. But no sooner had Sancho left his horseback-ship to come to Don Quixote, when the damning devill with the bladders leaped on Dapple, and clapping him with them, the fear and noise, more then the blows, made him fly thorough the field, towards the place where they were to play. Sancho beholded Dapples career and his Masters fall, and knew not to which of the ill chances he might first repair: But yet like a good Squire and faithful seruant, his Masters love prevailed more with him, then the cockering of his ass: though every hoysting of the bladders, and falling on Dapples buttocks, were to him trances and tidings of death, and rather had he those blows had lighted on his eye-bals, then on the least hair of his Asses tail.  
In this perplexity he came to Don Quixote, who was in a great deal worse plight then he was willing to see him: and helping him on Rozinante, said; Sir, the devill hath carried away Dapple. What devill( quoth Don Quixote?) he with the bladders, replied Sancho. Well, I will recover him( said Don Quixote) though he should lock him up with him in the darkest and deepest dungeons of Hell: Follow me, Sancho, for the wagon goes but slowly, and the Mules shall satisfy Dapples loss. There is no need( said Sancho:) temper your choler, for now I see the devill hath left Dapple, and he returns to his home, and he said true, for the devill having fallen with Dapple, to imitate Don Quixote and Rozinante, he went on foot to the town, and the ass came back to his Master.  
For all that( said Don Quixote) it were fit to take reuenge of the devils vnmannerlinesse vpon some of those in the wagon, even of the Emperour himself. Oh never think of any such matter( said Sancho) and take my counsel, that is, never to meddle with Players, for they are a people mightily beloved: I haue known one of vm in prison for two murders, and yet scaped scotfree: Know this, Sir, that as they are merry jovial Lads, all men love, esteem, and help them, especially if they be the Kings Players, and all of them in their fashion and garb are Gentle-man-like.  
For all that( said Don Quixote) the Deuill-Player shall not scape from me& brag of it, though all mankind help him:& so saying, he got to the wagon, that was now somewhat near the town, and crying aloud, said; Hold, stay, merry Greekes, for Ile make ye know what belongs to the Asses and furniture, belonging to the Squires of Knights errand. Don Quixotes noise was such, that those of the wagon heard it, and ghessing at his intention by his speeches, in an instant Mistris Death leaped out of the wagon,& after her the Emperor, the Deuill-Waggoner, and the angel, and the queen too with little Cupid, all of them were strait loaded with stones, and put themselves in order, expecting Don Quixote with their pebbles points.  
Don Quixote, that saw them in so gallant a Squadron, ready to discharge strongly their stones, held in Rozinantes reins, and began to consider how he should set vpon them, with least hazard to his person. Whilst he thus stayed, Sancho came to him, and seeing him ready to give the on-set, said; Tis a mere madness, Sir, to attempt this enterprise: I pray consider, that for your 
Meaning the stones.  riuer-sops, there are no defensive weapons in the world, but to be shut up and inlayd under a brazen bell: and consider likewise, tis rather rashness then valour, for one man alone to set vpon an Army, wherein Death is, and where Emperors fight in person, and where good bad Angels help: and if the consideration of this be not sufficient, may this move you to know, that amongst all these( though they seem to be Kings, Princes and Emperours, there is no Knight errand.  
Thou hast hit vpon the right, Sancho( said Don Quixote) the very point that may alter my determination: I neither can nor must draw my sword, as I haue often  told thee, against any that be not Knights errand. It concerns thee, Sancho, if thou meanest to bee revenged for the wrong done thine ass, and Ile encourage thee, and from hence give thee wholesome instructions. There needs no being revenged of any body( said Sancho) for there is no Christianity in it; besides, mine ass shall be contented to put his cause to me, and to my will, which is, to live quietly as long as heaven shall afford me life.  
Since this is thy determination( said Don Quixote) honest, wise, discreet, Christian-like, pure Sancho, let us leave these dreams,& seek other better& more real adventures: for I see, this country is like to afford us many miraculous ones. So he turned Rozinantes reins, and Sancho took his Dapple, Death with all the flying Squadron returned to the waggon, and went on their voyage: And this was the happy end of the waggon of Deaths adventure: thankes to the good advice that Sancho Pansa gave his Master: to whom there happened the day after another adventure, no less pleasant, with an enamoured Knight errand as well as he.   

CHAP. XII.  
Of the rare adventure that befell Don Quixote, with the Knight of the Looking-Glasses.  
DOn Quixote& his Squire passed the ensuing night, after their Deaths encounter, under certain high and shady trees, Don Quixote having first( by Sancho's entreaty) eaten somewhat of the provision that came vpon Dapple, and as they were at supper, Sancho said to his Master; Sir, what an ass had I been, had I chosen for a reward, the spoils of the first adventure which you might end, rather then the breed of the three Mares? Indeed, indeed, a bide in the hand is better then two in the bush.  
For all that( quoth Don Quixote) if thou, Sancho, hadst let me give the on-set( as I desired) thou hadst had to thy share, at least, the Empresses golden crown, and Cupids painted wings, for I had taken vm away against the hair, and given vm thee. Your Players sceptres and Emperours crownes( said Sancho) are never of pure gold, but leaf and tin.  
Tis true( answered Don Quixote) for it is very necessary, that your Play-ornaments bee not fine, but counterfeit and seeming, as the Play itself is, which I would haue thee, Sancho, to esteem of, and consequently the Actors too, and the Authors, because they are the Instruments of much good to a Commonwealth, being like Looking-glasses, where the actions of human life are lively represented, and there is no comparison, that doth more truly present to us, what we are, or what we should be, then the Comedy and Comedians: If not, tell me, hast not thou seen a Play acted, where Kings, Emperours, Bishops, Knights, Dames, and other personages are introduced? One plays a Ruffian, another the Cheater, this a Merchant, t'other a soldier, one a crafty fool, another a foolish lover: And the Comedy ended, and the apparel taken away, all the rehearsers are the same they were.  
Yes mary haue I, quoth Sancho. Why, the same thing ( said Don Quixote) happens in the Comedy and theatre of this world, where some play the Emperours, other the Bishops; and lastly, all the parts that may be in a Comedy: but in the end, that is, the end of our life, Death takes away all the robes that made them differ, and at their burial they are equal. A brave comparison( quoth Sancho) but not so strange to me, that haue heard it often, as that of the Chesse-play, that while the game lasts, every peer hath it's particular motion, and the game ended, all are mingled and shuffled together, and cast into a lethern bag, which is a kind of burial.  
every day, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) thou growest wiser and wiser. It must needs bee( said Sancho) that some of your wisdom must cleave to me; for grounds that are dry and barren, by mucking and tilling them, give good fruit: I mean, your conversation hath been the muck, that hath been cast vpon the sterile ground of my barren wit; and the time that I haue served you, the tillage, with which I hope to render happy fruit, and such as may not gainsay or slide out of the paths of good manners, which you haue made in my withered understanding.  
Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's affencted reasons, and it seemed true to him, what he had said touching his reformation: for now and then his talk admired him, although for the most part, when Sancho spoken by way of contradicton, or like a Courtier, he ended his discourse with a downfall, from the mount of his simplicity, to the profundity of his ignorance: but that, wherein he shewed himself most elegant and memorable, was in urging of proverbs, though they were never so much against the hair of the present business, as hath been seen, and noted in all this History.  
A great part of the night they passed in these and such like discourses, but Sancho had a great desire to let fall the Pott-cullices( as he called them) of his eyes, and sleep; and so vndressing his Dapple, he turned him freely to graze: with Rozinantes saddle he meddled not, for it was his Masters express command, that whilst they were in field, or slept not within doors, he should not vnsaddle him, it being an ancient custom observed by Knights errand, to take the bridle and hang it at the saddle-pummell: but beware taking away the saddle, which Sancho observed, and gave him the same liberty, as to his Dapple, whose friendship and Rozinantes was so sole and united, that the report goes by tradition from father to son, that the Author of this true History made particular chapters of it, onely to keep the decency and decorum due to so heroic a Story: he omitted it, although sometimes he forgets his purpose herein, and writes, that as the two beasts were together, they would scratch one another, and being wearied and satisfied, Rozinante would cross his throat over Dapples neck, at least half a yard over the other side: and both of them looking wistly on the ground, they would stand thus three dayes together, at least as long as they were let alone, or that hunger compelled them not to look after their prouander.  
Tis said( I say) that the Author in his Story, compared them in their friendship, to Nisus and Eurialus, to pylades and Orestes, which, if it were so, it may be seen( to the general admiration) how firm and steadfast the friendship was of these two pacificke beasts, to the shane of men, that so ill know the rules of friendship one to another. For this, it was said, No falling out, like to that of friends. And let no man think the Author was unreasonable, in having compared the friendship of these beasts, to the friendship of men; for men haue received many Items from beasts, and learnt many things of importance, as the Storks dung, the Dogs vomit and faithfulness, the Cranes watchfulness, the Ants providence, the Elephants honesty, and the Horse his loyalty.  
At length Sancho fell fast asleep at the foot of a Corketrce, and Don Quixote reposed himself under an oak. But not long after, a noise behind waked him, and rising suddenly, he looked and hearkned from whence the noise came, and he saw two men on horseback, and the one tumbling from his saddle, said to the other; Alight, friend, and vnbridle our horses, for me thinks this place hath pasture enough for them, and befits the silence& solitude of my amorous thoughts: thus he spoken,& stretched himself vpon the ground in an instant, but casting himself down, his armor wherewith he was armed made, a noise: a manifest token that made Don Quixote, think he was some Knight errand, and coming to Sancho, who was fast asleep, he plucked him by the arm, and told him softly. Brother Sancho, wee haue an adventure. God grant it bee good( quoth Sanch:) and where is this Masters adventures Worship? Where, Sancho, replied Don Quixote, look on one side, look, and there thou shalt see a Knight errand stretched, who( as it appears to me) is not overmuch joyed, for I saw him cast himself from his horse, and stretch on the ground, with some shows of grief, and as he fell, he crossed his arms. Why, in what do you perceive that this is an adventure( quoth Sancho?) I will not say( answered Don Quixote) that this is altogether an adventure, but an introduction to it, for thus adventures begin.  
But hark, it seems he is tuning a Lute, or vial, and by his spitting and cleared his breast, he prepares himself to sing. In good faith you say right( quoth Sancho) and tis some enamoured Knight. There is no Knight errand( said Don Quixote) that is not so: let us give ear, and by the circumstance, we shall search the Laberynth of his thoughts, if so be he sing: for out of the abundance of the heart, the tongue speaketh. Sancho would haue replied to his Master: But the Knight of the woods voice( which was but so so) hindered him, and whilst the two were astonished, he sung as followeth.  

sonnet.  
Permit me, Mistris, that I follow may  
The bound, cut out just to your hearts desire:  
The which, in mine I shall esteem for ay,  
So that I never from it will retire.  
If you be pleased, my grief ( I silent) stay,  
And die make reckoning that I strait expire,  
If I may tell it you; the unusual way  
I will, and make loues self be my supplier.  
fashioned I am to proof of contraries,  
As soft as wax, as hard as Diamond too,  
And to Loues laws, my soul herself applies,  
Or hard, or soft, my breast I offer you  
graven, imprint in't what your pleasure is,  
I( secret) swear it never to foregoe.   
With a deep-fetcht, heigh, ho: even from the bottom of his heart, the Knight of the wood ended his song: and after some pause, with a grieved and sorrowful voice uttered these words: Oh the fairest and most ungrateful woman in the world. And shall it be possible, most excellent Casildea de Vandalia, that thou suffer this thy captive Knight to pine and perish, with continual peregrinations, with hard and painful labours? Sufficeth not, that I haue made all the Knights of Nauarre, of Leon, all the Tartesians, all the castilians confess thee to be the fairest Lady of the world? I, and all the Knights of Mancha too? Not so,( quoth Don Quixote strait) for I am of the Mancha, but never yielded to that, for I neither could nor ought confess a thing so prejudicial to the beauty of my Mistris: and thou seest, Sancho, how much this Knight is wide: but let us hear him, it may be, he will unfold himself more. mary will he( quoth Sancho) for he talks, as if he would lament a month together. But it fell out otherwise; for the Knight of the wood, having ouer-heard that they talked somewhat near him, ceasing his complaints, he stood up, and with a clear, but familiar voice thus spake, Who's there, who is it? Is it haply some of the number of the contented, or of the afflicted? Of the afflicted( answered Don Quixote.) Come to me then( said he of the wood) and make account, you come to sadness itself, and to afflictions self. Don Quixote, when he saw himself answered so tenderly, and so modestly, drew near, and Sancho likewise. The wailefull Knight laid hold on Don Quixotes arm, saying, Sit down, sir Knight: for to know that you are so, and one that professeth Knight Errantrie, it is enough that I haue found you in this place, where solitariness, and the 
Serene, the night-dew that falls.  Serene bear you company, the natural beds, and proper beings for Knights errand.  
To which Don Quixote replied, A Knight I am, and of the profession you speak of, and though disgraces, misfortunes, and sorrows haue their proper seat in my mind: notwithstanding, the compassion I haue to other mens griefs, hath not left it: by your complaints I guess you are enamoured, I mean, that you love that ungrateful faire one, mentioned in your laments. Whilst they were thus discoursing, they sat together lovingly vpon the could ground, as if by day-breake, their heads also would not break.  
The Knight of the wood demanded, Are you happily enamoured, sir Knight? unhappily I am( quoth Don Quixote) although the unhappiness that ariseth from wel-placed thoughts, ought rather to be esteemed a happiness then otherwise. True it is( replied he of the wood) if disdains did not vex our reason and understanding, which being unmerciful, come nearer to reuenge. I was never( said Don Quixote) disdained of my Mistris. No indeed( quoth Sancho) who was near them: for my Lady is as gentle as a lamb, and as soft as butter. Is this your Squire( said he of the wood?) He is( said Don Quixote.) I ne're saw Squire( replied he of the wood) that durst prate so boldly before his Master, at least yonder is mine, as big as his father, and I can prove he never unfolded his lips, whensoever I spake.  
Well i'faith( quoth Sancho) I haue spoken, and may speak before, as, and perhaps: but let it alone, the more it is stirred, the more it will stink. The Squire of the wood took Sancho by the hand, saying: Let us go and talk what we list Squirelike, and let us leave these our Masters, Let them fall from their lances, and tell of their Loues: for I warrant you, the morning will overtake them, before they haue done. A Gods name( quoth Sancho) and Ile tell you who I am, that you may see whether I may be admitted into the number of your talking Squires. So the two Squires went apart, between whom there passed as witty a Dialogue, as their Masters was serious.   

CHAP. XIII.  
Where the adventure of the Knight of the Wood is prosecuted, with the discreet, rare, and sweet Coloquie, that passed betwixt the two Squires.  
THE Knights and their Squires were divided; these telling their lives, they their loues: and thus saith the story, that the Squire of the wood said to Sancho, It is a cumbersome life that we lead, sir, we, I say, that are Squires to Knights errand: for truly we eat our bread with the sweat of our brows, which is one of the curses, that God laid vpon our first parents. You may say also( added Sancho) that we eat it in the frost of our bodies: for who endure more heats and colds, then your miserable Squires ●… Knights errand? and yet not so bad if we might eat at all, for good fare lessons care: but sometimes it happens, that we are two daies without eating, except it be the air that blows on vs. All this may be born( quoth he of the wood) with the hope we haue of reward: for if the Knight errand whom a Squire serves, be not two unfortunate, he shall, with a little good hap, see himself rewarded with the government of some Isalnd, or with a reasonable earldom. I( said Sancho) haue often  told my Master, that I would content myself with the government of any iceland, and he is so Noble and liberal, that he hath often promised it me. I( said he of the Wood) for my services would be satisfied, with some Canonrie, which my Master too hath promised me.  
Your Master indeed( said Sancho) belike is an ecclesiastical Knight, and may do his good Squires these kindnesses: but my Master is merely Lay, though I remember, that some persons of good discretion( though out of bad intention) counseled him, that he should be an Archbishop: which he would not be, but an Emperour: and I was in a bodily fear, lest he might haue a mind to the Church, because I held myself uncapable of benefits by it: for let me tell you, though to you I seem a man, yet in Church matters I am a very beast. Indeed, sir,( said he of the Wood) You are in the wrong: for your Island-Gouernments are not al so special, but that some are crabbed, some poor, some distasteful; and lastly, the stateliest and best of all brings with it a heavy burden of cares and inconveniences, which he( to whom it falls to his lot) undergoes. far better it were, that we, who profess this cursed slavery, retire home, and there entertain ourselves with more delightful exercises, to wit, hunting and fishing; for what Squire is there in the world so poor, that wants his Nag, his brace of greyhounds, or his Angle-rod, to pass his time with, at his Village?  
I want none of this( said Sancho:) true it is, I haue no Nag, but I haue an ass worth two of my Masters Horse: An ill Christmas God sand me,( and let it be the next ensuing) if I would change for him, though I had four bushels of barley to boot: you laugh at the price of my Dapple, for dapple is the colour of mine ass: well, greyhounds I shall not want neither, there being enough to spare in our town; besides, the sport is best at another mans charge.  
Indeed, indeed, Sr. Squire( said he of the Wood) I haue proposed and determined with myself, to leave these bezelings of these Knights, and return to my Village, and bring up my children, for I haue three, like three Orient-pearles. Two haue I( said Sancho) that may bee presented to the Pope in person, especially one, a wench, which I bring up to bee a countess( God save her) although it grieve her mother. And how old( asked he of the Wood) is this Lady-Countesse that you bring up so?  
fifteen, somewhat under or over( said Sancho) but she is as long as a lance, and as fresh as an Aprill-morning, and as sturdy as a Porter. These are parts( said he of the Wood) not onely for her to be a countess, but a Nymph of the Greeny grove: Ah whoreson, whore, and what a sting the quean hath? To which( quoth Sancho somewhat musty) Shee is no whore, neither was her mother before her, and none of them( God willing) shall be, as long as I live: and I pray, Sir, speak more mannerly: for these speeches are not consonant from you, that haue been brought up amongst Knights errand, the flowers of courtesy. Oh( said he of the Wood) Sr. Squire, how you mistake, and how little you know what belongs to praising: what? haue ye never observed, that when any Knight in the market-place gives the Bul a sure thrust with his lance, or when any body doth a thing well, the common people use to say; Ah whore●on whoremaster, how bravely he did it? so that, that which seems to be a dispraise, in that sense is a notable commendation, and renounce you those sons and daughters, that do not the works, that may make their parents deserve such like praises. I do renounce( said Sancho) and if you meant no other wise; I pray you clap a whole whore-house at once vpon my wife and children; for all they do or say, are extremes worthy of such praises, and so I may see them, God deliver me out of this mortal sin, that is, out of this dangerous profession of being a Squire, into which I haue this second time incurred, being enticed and deceived with the purse of the hundred ducats, which I found one day in the heart of Sierra Morena, and the devill cast that bag of Pistolets before mine eyes:( me thinks) every foot I touch it, hug it, and carry it to mine house, set leases, and rents, and live like a Prince, and still when I think of this, all the toil that I pass with this Block-head my Master, seems easy and tolerable to me, who( I know) is more madman then Knight.  
hereupon( said he of the Wood) it is said; that, All covet, all lose: And now you talk of mad-men, I think, my Master is the greatest in the world, he is one of them that cries, Hang sorrow; and that another Knight may recover his wits, he'l make himself mad, and will seek after that, which perhaps once found, will tumble him vpon his snout. And is he amorous haply? Yes( said he of the Wood) he loues one Casildea de Vandalia, the most raw and most roasted Lady in the world; but she halts not on that foot of her rawness, for other manner of impostures do grunt in those entrails of hers, which ere long will be known.  
There is no way so plain( quoth Don Quixote) that hath not some rub, or pit, or as the proverb goes, In some houses they seeth beans, and in mine whole kettles full. So madness hath more companions, and more needy ones then wisdom. But if that which is commonly spoken be true, that to haue companions in misery is a lightner of it, you may comfort me, that serve as sottish a Master I do. Sottish but valiant,( answered he of the wood) but more knave then fool or then valiant. It is not so with my Master, said Sancho: for he is ne're a whit knave; rather he is as dull as a Beetle, hurts no-body, does good ●o all, he hath no malice, a child will make him beleeue tis night at noon day: and for his simplicity, I love him as my heartstrings, and cannot find in my heart, to leave him for all his fopperies. For all that, Brother and friend,( said he of the wood) if the blind guide the blind, both will be in danger to fall into the pit.  
Tis better to retire faire and softly, and return to our loved homes: for they that hunt after adventures, do not always light vpon good. Sancho spit often, and as it seemed, a kind of glewy and dry matter: which noted by the charitable woody Squire, he said, Me thinks, with our talking, our tongues clean to our roofs: but I haue suppler hangs at the pummell of my horse, as good as touch: and rising up, he returned presently with a Borracha of wine, and a baked meate, at least half a yard long, and it is no lie, for it was of a Parboiled coney so large, that Sancho, when he felt it, thought it had been of a goat, and not a Kid: which being seen by Sancho, he said, And had ye this with you too, sir? Why, what did ye think( said the other) do you take me to be some hungry Squire? I haue better provision at my horses crupper, then a general carries with him vpon a March. Sancho fell to, without invitation, and champed his bits in the dark, as if he had scraunched knotted cords, and said, I mary, sir, you are a true legal Squire, round and sound, royal and liberal( as appears by you feast) which if it came not hither by way of Enchantment, yet it seems so at least, and like no unfortunate wretch, that only carry in my wallets, a little Cheese, so hard, that you may break a giants head with it,& only some doozens of Saint Iohns Weed leaves, and some few Walnuts, and small nuts,( plenty in the strictness of my Master, and the opinion he hath) and the method he observes, that Knights errand must only be maintained and sustained onely with a little dry fruit,& salads. By my faith( Brother) replied he of the wood, my stomach is not made to your thistles, nor your stalks, nor your mountaine-roots: let our Masters deal with their opinions, and their Knightly statutes, and eat what they will, I haue my could meats, and this bottle hanging at the pummel of my saddle, will he, or nill he: which I reverence and love so much, that a minute scarce passeth me, in which I give it not a thousand kisses& embraces. Which said, he gave it to Sancho, who rearing it on end at his mouth, looked a quarter of an hour together vpon the stars: and when he had ended his draft, he held his neck on one side, and fetching a great sigh, cries, Oh whoresoone rascal, how catholic it is. Law ye there( said he of the wood) in hearing Sancho's whoresoone, how you haue praised the wine, in calling it whoresoone? I say( quoth Sancho) that I confess, that I know it is no dishonour to call any body whoresoone, when there is a meaning to praise him. But tell me, sir, by the remembrance of her you love best, is this wine of a Ciuidad real? A brave taste 
A place in spain that hath excellent wines. ( said he of the wood:) it is no less, and it is of some yeeres standing too. Let me alone( said Sancho) you could not but think I must know it to the height. do not you think it strange, sir Squire, that I should haue so great, and so natural an instinct, in distinguishing betwixt wines, that coming to smell any wine, I hit vpon the place, the grape, the savour, the lasting, the strength, with all circumstances belonging to wine? But no marvel, if in my lineage by my fathers side, I had two of the most excellent tasters that were known in a long time in Mancha: for proof of which, you shall know what befell them.  
They gave to these two some wine to taste out of a Hogshead, asking their opinions, of the state, quality, goodness or badness of the wine: the one of them proved it with the tip of his tongue, the other only smelled to it. The first said, that that wine savoured of iron. The second said, Rather of goats leather. The owner protested, the Hogshead was clean, and that the wine had no kind of mixture, by which it should receive any savour of iron or leather. Notwithstanding, the two famous tasters stood to what they had said. Time ran on, the wine was sold, and when the vessel was cleansed, there was found in it a little key, with a leatherne thong hanging at it. Now you may see, whether he that comes from such a race, may give his opinion in these matters.  
Therefore I say to you( quoth he of the wood) let us leave looking after these adventures, and since we haue content, let us not seek after dainties, but return to our cottages, for there God will find us, if it be his will. Till my Master come to Saragosa, I mean( quoth Sancho) to serve him, and then weele all take a new course. In fine, the two good Squires talked and drank so much, that it was fit sleep should lay their tongues, and slake their thirst, but to extinguish, it was impossible; so both of them fastened to the night empty bottle, and their meate scarce out of their mouths, fell asleep: where for the present wee will leave them, and tell what passed between the two Knights.   

CHAP. XIV.  
How the adventure of the Knight of the Wood is prosecuted.  
AMongst many discourses that passed between Don Quixote, and the Knight of the Wood, the History says, that he of the wood said to Don Quixote, In brief, sir Knight, I would haue you know, that my destiny, or to say better, my election enamoured me vpon the peerless Casildea de Vandalia, peerless I call her, as being so in the greatness of her Stature, and in the extreme of her being and beauty. This Casildea( I tell you of) repaide my good and virtuous desires, in employing me( as did the stepmother of Hercules, in many and different perils, promising me, at the accomplishing of each one, in performing another, I should enjoy my wishes: but my labours haue been so linked one vpon another, that they are numberless, neither know I which may be the last to give an accomplishment to my lawful desires.  
Once she commanded me to give defiance to that famous Gyantesse of sevil, called the Giralda, who is so valiant& so strong( as being made of brass, and without changing place) is the most movable and turning woman in the world. I came, I saw, and conquered her, and made her stand still, and keep distance; for a whole week together, no winds blew, but the North: Otherwhiles she commanded me to lift up the ancient stones of the fierce bulls of Guisando: an enterprise fitter for 
As if we should say, to remove the stones at Stonage in Wilt-shire.  Porters, then Knights: another time she commanded me to go down and dive in the Vault of Cabra( a fearful and unheard of attempt) and to bring her relation of all that was enclosed in that dark profundity. I ovid the motion of the Giralda, I weighed the bulls of Guisando, I cast myself down the steep cave, and brought to light the secrets of that bottom, but my hopes were dead, how dead? her disdains still living, how living? Lastly, she hath now commanded me, that I run over all the provinces of spain,& make all the Knights errand, that wander in them, confess, that she alone goes beyond all other women in beauty, and that I am the valiantest, and most enamoured Knight of the world: in which demand I haue traveled the greatest part of spain, and haue overcome many Knights, that durst contradict me. But that which I prise and esteem most is, That I haue conquered, in single combat, that so famous Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, and made him confess that my Casildea is fairer then his Dulcinea, and in this conquest only I make account, that I haue conquered all the Knights in the world, because the aforesaid Don Quixote hath conquered them all, and I having overcome him, his famed his glory, and his honour, hath been transferred and passed over to my person, and the conqueror is so much the more esteemed: by how much the conquered was reputed, so that the innumerable exploits of Don Quixote now mentioned, are mine, and pass vpon my account.  
Don Quixote admired to hear the Knight of the wood, and was a thousand times about to haue given him the lie, and had his Thou liest, vpon the point of his tongue: but he deferred it as well as he could, to make him confess with his own mouth that he lied, and so he  told him calmly. That you may haue overcome( sir Knight) all the Knights errand of spain, and the whole world, I grant ye: but that you haue overcome Don Quixote de la Mancha, I doubt it, it might be some other like him, though few there be so like. Why not? replied he of the Wood: I can assure you, Sir, I fought with him, overcame, and made him yield. he is a tall fellow, withered faced, lank and dry in his limbs, somewhat hoary, sharpe-nosed and crooked; his moustaches long, black, and fallen; he marcheth under the name of The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance: he presses the loine, and rules the bridle of a famous horse called Rozinante,& hath for the Mistris of his thoughts, one Dulcinea deal Toboso, sometimes called Aldonsa Lorenso, just as mine, that because her name was Casilda, and of Andaluzia, I call her Casildea de Vandalia: and if all these tokens be not enough to countenance the truth, here is my sword that shall make incredulity itself believe it. Haue patience, sir Knight( quoth Don Quixote) and hear what I shall say. Know, that this Don Quixote you speak of, is the greatest friend I haue in this world, and so much that I may tell you, I love him as well as myself, and by the signs that you haue given of him, so punctual and certain, I cannot but think it is he whom you haue overcome. On the other side, I see with mine eyes, and feel with my hands, that it is not possible it should be he, if it be not, that, as he hath many Enchanters that be his enemies, especially one, that doth ordinarily persecute him, there be some one that hath taken his shape on him, and suffered himself to be overcome, to defraud him of the glory which his noble chivalry hath gotten and laid up for him throughout the whole earth. And for confirmation of this, I would haue you know, that these Enchanters mine enemies( not two daies since) transformed the shape and person of the faire Dulcinea deal Toboso, into a foul& base country wench, and in this sort belike they haue transformed Don Quixote: and if all this be not sufficient to direct you in the truth, here is Don Quixote himself, that will maintain it with his arms on foot or on horse-back, or in what manner you please: and he grasped his sword, expecting what resolution the Knight of the Wood would take, who with a stayed voice, answered& said: A good Pay-master needs no surety: he that could once, Don Quixote, overcome you when you were transformed, may very well hope to restore you to your proper being. But because it becomes not Knights to do their feats in the dark like high-way-robbers and Ruffians, let us stay for the day, that the sun may behold our actions; and the condition of our combat shall be, that he that is overcome, shall stand to the mercy of the conqueror, to do with him according to his will, so far as what he ordaineth shall be fitting for a Knight.  
I am ouer-ioyed with this condition and agreement( quoth Don Quixote.) And( this said) they went where their Squires were, whom they found snorting, and just as they were, when sleep first stolen vpon them. They wakened them, and commanded they should make their horses ready: for by sun rising, they meant to haue a bloody and unequal single combat. At which news Sancho was astonished and amazed, as fearing his Masters safety, by reason of the Knight of the Woods valour, which he had heard from his Squire: but without any reply, the two Squires went to seek their cattle: for by this the three horses and Dapple had smelled out one another, and were together.  
By the way, he of the Wood said to Sancho, You must understand, Brother, that your Combatants of Andaluzia use, when they are Sticklers in any quarrel, not to standidlely with their hands in their pockets, whilst their friends are fighting I tell you this, because you may know, that whilst our Masters are at it, we must skirmish too, and break our launces to shivers. This custom, sir Squire( answered Sancho) may be currant there, and pass amongst your Ruffians and Combatants you talk of: but with your Squires that belong to Knights errand, not so much as a thought of it. At least, I haue not heard my Master so much as speak a word of any such custom, and he knows without book all the ordinances of Knight Errantry. But let me grant ye, that tis an express ordinance that the Squires fight, whilst their Masters do so: yet I will not fulfil that, but pay the penalty that shall be imposed vpon such peaceable Squires: for I do not think, it will be above two pound of wax, and I had rather pay them, for I know they will cost me less, then the lint that I shall spend in making tents to cure my 
Alluding to some penalties enjoined by Confessors, to pay to burn in candles in the Church.  head, which already I make account is cut and divided in two: besides, tis impossible I should fight, having never a sword, and I never wore any.  
For that( quoth he of the Wood) Ile tell you a good remedy, I haue here two linen bags of one bigness, you shall haue one, and I the other, and with these equal weapons, wee'll fight at bag-blowes. Let us do so and you will( said Sancho) for this kind of fight will rather serve to dust, then to wound vs. Not so( said the other) for within the bags( that the wind may not carry them to and fro) wee will put half a dozen of delicate smooth pebbles, of equal weight, and so we may bag-baste one another, without doing any great hurt. look ye, body of my father( quoth Sancho) what Martins or Sables fur, or what fine-carded wool he puts in the bags, not to beat out our brains, or make Priuet of our bones: but know, Sir, if they were silk balls, I would not fight: let our Masters fight, and hear on it in another world, let us drink and live, for time will bee careful to take away our lives, without our striving to end them before their time and season, and that they drop before they are ripe. For all that( said he of the Wood) we must fight half an hour. No, no( said Sancho) I will not be so discourteous and ungrateful, as to wrangle with whom I haue eaten and drunk, let the occasion bee never so small, how much more I being without choler or anger, who the devill can barely without these fight?  
For this( said he of the Wood) Ile give you a sufficient cause, which is, that before wee begin the combat, I will come me finely to you, and give you three or four boxes, and strike you to my feet, with which I shall awake your choler, although it sleep like a Dormouse. Against this cut I haue another( quoth Sancho) that comes not short of it, I will take me a good cudgel, and before you waken my choler, I will make you sleep so soundly with bastinadoing you, that it shall not wake but in another world, in which it shall be known; that I am not he that will let any man handle my face; and every man look to the shaft he shoots: And the best way were to let every mans choler sleep with him, for no man knows what's in another, and many come for wool, that return shorne, and God blessed the Peace-makers, and cursed the civiler; for if a Cat shut into a room, much baited and straightened, turn to be a lion, God knows what I that am a man, may turn to: Therefore, from henceforward, Sr. Squire, let me intimate to you, that all the evil and mischief that shall arise from our quarrel, bee vpon your head. Tis well( quoth he of the Wood) let it be day, and we shall thrive by this.  
And now a thousand sorts of painted birds began to chirp in the trees, and in their different delightful tones, it seemed they bad good morrow,& saluted the fresh Aurora, that now discovered the beauty of her face, thorough the gates& bay-windowes of the East, shaking from her locks an infinite number of liquid pearls, bathing the herbs in her sweet liquor, that it seemed they also sprouted, and rained white and small pearls: the willows did distil their savoury Manna, the fountains laughed, the brooks murmured, the woods were cheered, and the fields were enriched with her coming.  
But the brightness of the day scarce gave time to distinguish things, when the first thing that offered itself to Sancho's sight, was the Squire of the Woods nose, which was so huge, that it did as it were shadow his whole body. It is said indeed, that it was of an extraordinary bigness, crooked in the midst, and all full of warts of a darkish-greene colour, like a Berengene, and hung some two fingers over his mouth: this hugeness, colour, warts, and crookedness, did so dis-figure his face, that Sancho in seeing him, began to lay about him back-ward and forward, like a young raw Ancient, and resolved with himself to endure two hundred boxes, before his choler should waken to fight with that Hobgoblin.  
Don Quixote beholded his opposite, and perceived that his helmet was on and drawn, so that he could not see his face, but he saw that he was well set in his body, though not tall; vpon his armor he wore an vpper garment or cassock, to see to, of pure cloth of gold, with many moons of shining Looking-glasses spread about it, which made him appear very brave and gorgeous, a great plume of green feathers waued about his Helmet, with others white& yellow, his Lance which he had reared up against a three, was very long and thick, and with a steel pike above a handful long▪ Don Quixote observed and noted all, and by what he had seen and marked, judged that the said Knight must needs be of great strength: But yet he was not afraid( like Sancho) and with a bold courage thus spoken to the Knight of the Looking-glasses: If your eagerness to fight, Sir Knight, haue not spent your courtesy, for it, I desire you to lift up your Visor a little, that I may behold whether the liveliness of your face be answerable to that of your disposition, whether vanquished or Vanquisher you be in this enterprise. Sir Knight( answered he of the Looking-glasses) you shall haue time and leisure enough to see me, and if I do not now satisfy your desire, it is because I think I shall do a great deal of wrong to the faire Casildea de Vandalia, to delay so much time as to lift up my Visor, till I haue first made you confess what I know you go about. Well, yet while we get a horseback( said Don Quixote) you may resolve me whether I be that Don Quixote whom you said, you had vanquished.  
To this I answer you( said he of the Looking-glasses) You are as like the Knight I conquered, as one egg is to another: But, as you say, Enchanters persecute you, and therefore I dare not affirm whether you bee he or no. It sufficeth( quoth Don Quixote) for me, that you beleeue your being deceived: but that I may entirely satisfy you, let's to horse, for in less time then you should haue spent in lifting up your Visor( if God, my mistress, and mine arm defend me) will I see your face, and you shall see that I am not the vanquished Don Quixote you speak of.  
And here cutting off discourse, to horse they go, and Don Quixote turned Rozinante about, to take so much of the field( as was fit for him) to return to encounter his enemy, and the Knight of the Looking-glasses did the like. But Don Quixote was not gone twenty paces from him, when he heard that he of the looking-glasses called him. So the two parting the way, he of the Glasses said, Be mindful, Sr. Knight, that the condition of our combat is, that the vanquished( as I haue  told you before) must stand to the discretion of the Vanquisher. I know it( said Don Quixote) so that what is imposed and commanded the vanquished, be within the bounds and limits of cavalry. So it is meant, said he of the Glasses.  
here Don Quixote saw the strange nose of the Squire, and he did not less wonder at the sight of it, then Sancho; insomuch that he deemed him a monster, or some new kind of man not usual in the world. Sancho, that saw his Master go to fetch his career, would not tarry alone with Nose autem, fearing that at one snap with tothers Nose vpon his, their fray would bee ended, that either with the blow, or it, he should come to the ground. So he ran after his Master, laying hold vpon one of Rozinantes stirrup leathers, and when he thought it time for his Master to turn back, he said; I beseech your Worship, Master mine, that before you fall to your encounter, you help me to climb up yond Cork-tree, from whence I may better, and with more delight, then from the ground, see the gallant encounter you shall make with this Knight.  
Rather, Sancho( said Don Quixote) thou wouldest get aloft, as into a scaffold, to see the bulls without danger. Let me deal truly( said Sancho) the ugly nose of that Squire hath astonished me, and I dare not come near him. Such an one it is( said Don Quixote) that any other but I, might very well be afraid of it, and therefore come, and Ile help thee up.  
Whilst Don Quixote was helping Sancho up into the Cork-tree, he of the Looking-glasses took up room for his career, and thinking that Don Quixote would haue done the like, without looking for trumpets sound, or any other warning-signe, he turned his horses reins( no better to see to, nor swifter then Rozinante) and with his full speed( which was a reasonable trot) he went to encounter his enemy: but seeing him busied in the mounting of Sancho, he held in his reins, and stopped in the midst of his career, for which his horse was most thankful, as being unable to move. Don Quixote, who thought his enemy by this came flying, set spurs lustily to Rozinantes hinder-flancke, and made him post in such manner, that the Story says, now onely he seemed to run, for all the rest was plain trotting heretofore. And with this unspeakable fury, he came where he of the Looking-glasses was gagging his spurs into his horse, to the very hoops, without being able to remove him a fingers length from the place, where he had set up his rest for the career.  
In this good time and coniuncture, Don Quixote found his contrary puzzled with his horse,& troubled with his lance; for either he could not, or else wanted time to set it in his rest. Don Quixote that never looked into these inconveniencies, safely and without danger, encountered him of the Looking-glasses so furiously, that in spite of his teeth he made him come to the ground, from his horse-crupper, with such a fall, that stirring neither hand nor foot, he made show as if he had been dead. Sancho scarce saw him down, when he slid from the Cork-tree, and came in all hast to his Master, who disinounted from Rozinante, got vpon him of the Looking-glasses, and vnlacing his helmet, to see if he were dead, or if he were alive, to give him air, he saw:( Who can tell without great admiration, wonder and amaze to him that shall hear it?) he saw( says the History) the selfsame face, the same visage, the same aspect, the same physiognomy, the same shape, the same perspective of the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, and as he saw it, he cried aloud, Come Sancho, and behold what thou mayest see, and not beleeue, run whore-sonne, and observe the power of magic, what Witches and Enchanters can do.  
Sancho drew near, and saw the bachelor Samson Carrasco's face,& so began to make a thousand crosses,& to bless himself as oft. In all this while the overthrown Knight made no show of living. And Sancho said to Don Quixote, I am of opinion, Sir, that by all means you thrust your sword down this fellowes throat, that is so like the bachelor Samson Carrasco, and so perhaps in him, you shall kill some of your enemies the Enchanters. Tis not ill advised( quoth Don Quixote.) So drawing out his sword, to put Sancho's counsel in execution, the Knights Squire came in, his nose being off, that had so dis-figured him, and said aloud: Take heed, sir Don Quixote, what you do; for he that is now at your mercy, is the Bachelor Samson Carrasco your friend, and I his Squire.  
Now Sancho seeing him without his former deformity, said to him, And your nose? To which he answered, Here it is in my pocket: and putting his hand to his right side, he pulled out a pasted nose, and a varnished vizard, of the manifacture described. And Sancho more and more beholding him, with a loud and admiring voice said, Saint Mary defend me: and is not this Thomas Cecial my neighbour and my Gossip? And how say you by that( quoth the vn nosed Squire?) Thomas Cecial I am, Gossip and friend Sancho, and streight I will tell you, the conveyances, sleights and tricks that brought me hither: in the mean time request and entreat your Master, that he touch not, misuse, wound or kill the Knight of the Looking-glasses, now at his mercy; for doubtless it is the bold and ill-aduized Bachelor Samson Carrasco our Country man.  
By this time the Knight of the Looking-glasses came to himself, which Don Quixote seeing, he clapped the bare point of his sword vpon his face,& said, Thou diest, Knight, if thou confess not, that the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso excels your Casildea de Vandalia in beauty: and moreover, you shall promise( if from this battle and fall you remain with life) to go to the city of Toboso, and present yourself from me before her, that she may dispose of you as she pleaseth: and if she pardon you, you shall return to me; for the track of my exploits will bee your guide, and bring you where I am, to tell me what hath passed with her. These conditions( according to those wee agreed on before the battle) exceed not the limits of Knight Errantrie.  
I confess, said the fallen Knight, that the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso's torn and foul shoe, is more worth then the ill-combed hair( though clean) of Casildea: and here I promise to go and come from her presence to yours, and give you entire and particular relation of all you require. You shall also confess and believe( added Don Quixote) that the Knight whom you overcame, neither was, nor could be Don Quixote de la Mancha, but some other like him, as I confess and believe, that you, although you seem to be the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, are not he, but one like him, and that my enemies haue cast you into his shape, that I may with-hold and temper the force of my choler, and use moderately the glory of my conquest. I confess, judge, and allow of all as you confess, judge, and allow( answered the backe-broken Knight.) Let me rise, I pray you, if the blow of my fall will let me; for it hath left me in ill case. Don Quixote helped him to rise, and Thomas Cecial his Squire, on whom Sancho still cast his eyes, asking him questions, whose answers gave him manifest signs, that he was Thomas Cecial indeed, as he said, but the apprehension that was made in Sancho, by what his Master had said, that the Enchanters had changed the form of the Knight of the glasses into Samson Carrasco's, made him not beleeue what he saw with his eyes. To conclude, the Master and Man remained still in their error: and he of the glasses and his Squire very moody and ill Errants, left Don Quixote, purposing to seek some town where he might seare-cloth himself, and settle his ribs. Don Quixote and Sancho held on their way to Saragosa, where the story leaves them, to tell who was the Knight of the Glasses and his Nosie Squire.   

CHAP. XV.  
Who the Knight of the looking-glasses and his Squire were.  
DOn Quixote was extremely contented, glad, and vainglorious, that he had subdued so valiant a Knight, as he imagined he of the Looking-glasses was, from whose knightly word he hoped to know if the Enchantment of his Mistris were certain, since of necessity the said vanquished Knight was to return,( on pain of not being so) to relate what had happened unto him: but Don Quixote thought one thing, and he of the Glasses another, though for the present he minded nothing, but to seek where he might searecloth himself. The history then tells us, that when the Bachelor Samson Carrasco advised Don Quixote that he should prosecute his forsaken cavalry, he entred first of all into counsel with the Vicar and the Barber, to know what means they should use, that Don Quixote might bee persuaded to stay at home peaceably and quietly, without troubling himself with his unlucky adventures: from which counsel by the common consent of all, and particular opinion of Carrasco, it was agreed, that Don Quixote should abroad again, since it was impossible to stay him, and that Samson should meet him vpon the way like a Knight errand, and should fight with him, since an occasion would not be wanting, and so to overcome him, which would not be difficult, and that there should be a covenant and agreement, that the vanquished should stand to the courtesy of the vanquisher, so that Don Quixote being vanquished, the Bachelor Knight should command him to get him home to his town and house, and not to stir from thence in two yeeres after, or till he should command him to the contrary: the which in all likelihood Don Quixote once vanquished would infallibly accomplish, as unwilling to contradict or bee defective in the laws of Knighthood, and it might so be, that in this time of sequestering, he might forget all his vanities, or they might find out some convenient remedy for his madness. Carrasco accepted of it, and Thomas Cecial offered himself to be his Squire, Sancho Pansa's neighbour and Gossip, a merry knave and a witty. Samson armed himself( as you haue heard) and Thomas Cecial fitted the false nose to his own, and clapped on his vizard, that he might not be known by his Gossip, when they should meet. So they held on the same voyage with Don Quixote, and they came even just as he was in the adventure of Deaths waggon. And at last they lighted on them in the Wood, where what befell them, the discreet Reader hath seen, and if it had not been for the strange opinion that Don Quixote had, that the Bachelor was not the selfsame man, he had been spoyled for ever for taking another Degree, since he mist his mark.  
Thomas Cecial that saw what ill use he had made of his hopes, and the bad effect that his journey took, said to the Bachelor, truly, Mr Samson, we haue our deserts: things are easily conceived, and enterprizes easily undertaken, but very hardly performed. Don Quixote mad, we wise, but he is gone away sound and merry, you are here bruised and sorrowful. Let us know then who is the greatest mad-man, he that is so and cannot do withal, or he that is so for his pleasure? To which( quoth Samson) The difference between these mad men is, that he that of necessity is so, will always remain so, and he that accidentally is so, may leave it when he will. Since it is so( said Thomas Cecial) I that for my pleasure was mad, when I would needs be your Squire; for the same reason I will leave the office, and return home to my own house. Tis fit you should( said Samson) yet to think that I will do so, till I haue soundly banged Don Quixote, is vain, and now I go not about to restore him to his wits, but to reuenge myself on him: for the intolerable pain I feel in my ribs, will not permit me a more charitable discourse. Thus they two went on parlying till they came to a town, where by chance they lighted vpon a Bone-setter, who cured the unfortunate Samson. Thomas Cecial went home and left him, and he stayed musing vpon his reuenge: and the History hereafter will return to him, which at present must make merry with Don Quixote.   

CHAP. XVI.  
What befell Don Quixote with a discreet Gentleman of Mancha.  
DOn Quixote went on his journey with the ioy, content, and gladness, as hath been mentioned, imagining that for the late victory, he was the most valiant Knight that that age had in the world, he made account that all adventures that should from thence forward befall him, were brought to a happy and prosperous end: he cared not now for any enchantments, or enchanters: he forgot the innumerable bangs that in the prosecution of his chivalry had been given him, and the stones cast, that strooke out half his teeth, and the vnthankefulnesse of the Galli slaves, and the boldness and showers of stakes of the Yangneses.  
In conclusion, he said to himself, that if he could find any Art, manner, or means how to dis-enchant his mistress Dulcinea, he would not envy the greatest happiness or prosperity that ever any Knight errand of former times had obtained.  
he was altogether busied in these imaginations, when Sancho  told him: How say you Sir, that I haue still before mine eyes that ill-favoured, more then ordinary nose of my Gossip Thomas Cecial? And do you happily, Sancho, think that the Knight of the Looking-glasses was the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, and his Squire Thomas Cecial your Gossip? I know not what to say to it( quoth Sancho) onely I know, that the tokens he gave me, of my house, wife, and children, no other could give vm me but he, and his face,( his nose being off) was the same that Thomas Cecials, as I haue seen him many times in our town, and next house to mine, and his voice was the same. Let us bee reasonable, Sancho,( said Don Quixote:) Come hither; How can any man imagine that the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, should come like a Knight errand, armed with arms offensive and defensive, to fight with me? Haue I ever given him occasion, that he should dog me? Am I his Rinal, or is he a Professor of arms, to envy the glory that I haue gotten by them? Why what should I say( answered Sancho) when I saw that Knight( be he who he will) look so like the Bachelor Carrasco, and his Squire to Thomas Cecial my gossip? and if it were an Enchantment( as you say) were there no other two in the world, they might look like. All is juggling& cunning( quoth Don Quixote) of the wicked Magicians that persecute me, who fore-seeing that I should remain Victor in this combat, had provided that the vanquished Knight should put on the shape of my friend Carrasco, that the friendship I bear him might mediate betwixt the edge of my sword, and the rigor of my arm, and temper my hearts just indignation; and so, that he might escape with his life, that with tricks and devices sought to take away mine. For proof of which, oh Sancho, thou knowest by experience, that will not let thee lie or be deceived, how easy it is for Enchanters to change one face into another, making the beautiful deformed, and the deformed beautiful: and it is not two dayes, since with thine own eyes thou sawest the beauty and liveliness of the peerless Dulcinea in it's perfection, and natural conformity, and I saw her in the foulness and meanness of a course milke-maide, with blear eyes, and stinking breath, so that the perverse Enchanter, that durst cause so wicked a Metamorphosis, 'tis not much that he hath done the like in the shapes of Samson Carrasco and Thomas Cecial, to rob me of the glory of my conquest. Notwithstanding I am of good comfort; for in what shape soever it were, I haue vanquished mine enemy. God knows all( said Sancho) and whereas he knew the transformation of Dulcinea had been a trick of his, his Masters chimeras gave him no satisfaction: but he durst not reply a word, for fear of discovering his cozenage.  
whilst they were thus reasoning, one overtook them that came their way, vpon a faire flea-bitten mere, vpon his back a riding-coate of fine green cloth, welted with tawny velvet, with a Hunters cap of the same; his Mares furniture was for the field, and after the Genet fashion, of the said tawny and green, he wore a Moorish Semiter, hanging at a broad Belt of green and gold, his bufkins were wrought with the same that his belt was, his spurs were not gilded, but laid on with a green varnish, so smooth and burnished, that they were more suitable to the rest of his clothes, then if they had been of beaten gold. coming near, he saluted them courteously, and spurring his mere, road on: But Don Quixote said to him, Gallant, if you go our way, and your hast be not great, I should take it for a favour that wee might ride together. Truly Sir, said he with the mere, I should not ride from you, but that I fear your horse will bee unruly with the company of my mere. You may well, Sir( said Sancho) you may well divine in your mere: for our horse is the honestest and manerliest horse in the world; he is never unruly vpon these occasions; and once when he flew out, my Master and I paid for it with a witness. I say again, you may stay if you please, for although your mere were given him between two dishes, he would not look at her.  
The Passenger held in his reins, wondering at Don Quixotes countenance and posture, who was now without his helmet, for Sancho carried it in a cloak-bag at the pummell of Dapples pack-saddle: and if he in the green did much look at Don Quixote, Don Quixote did much more eye him, taking him to be a man of worth; his age shewed him to bee about fifty, having few gray hairs, his face was somewhat sharp, his countenance of an equal temper: Lastly, in his fashion and posture, he seemed to be a man of good quality. His opinion of Don Quixote was, that he had never seen such a kind of man before; the lanknesse of his horse, the tallness of his own body, the sparenesse and paleness of his face made him admire; his arms, his gesture and composition, a shape and picture, as it were, had not been seen( many ages before) in that country.  
Don Quixote noted well with what attention the traveler beholded him, and in his suspense red his desire, and being so courteous and so great a friend, to give all men content, before he demanded him any thing, to prevent him, he said: This outside of mine that you haue seen, Sir, because it is so rare and different from others now in use, may( no doubt) haue bread some wonder in you: which you will cease, when I shall tell you, as now I do, that I am a Knight, one of those( as you would say) that seek their fortunes. I went out of my country, engaged mine estate, left my pleasure, committed myself to the arms of Fortune, to carry me whither she pleased. My desire was to raise again the dead Knight Errantry, and long ago stumbling here, and falling there, casting myself headlong in one place, and rising up in another, I haue accomplished a great part of my desire, succouring widows, defending Damozels, favouring married women, Orphans, and distressed children( the proper& natural office of Knights errand) so that by my many valiant and Christian exploits, I haue merited to be in the press, in all or most nations of the world: thirty thousand volumes of my History haue been printed, and thirty thousand millions more are like to be, if heaven permit. Lastly, to shut up all in a word, I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called, The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance: And though one should not praise himself, yet I must needs do it, that is, there being none present that may do it for me: so that, kind Gentle-man, neither this horse, this lance, nor this shield, nor this Squire, nor all these arms together, nor the paleness of my face, nor my slender macilency, ought henceforward to admire you, you knowing now who I am, and the profession I maintain.  
This said, Don Quixote was silent, and he with the green Coat was a great while ere he could answer, as if he could not hit vpon't: but after some pause, he said: You were in the right, Sir Knight, in knowing, by my suspension, my desire: but yet you haue not quiter removed my admiration, which was caused with seeing you, for although that, as you say, Sir, that to know who you are, might make me leave wondering, it is otherwise, rather since now I know it, I am in more suspense and wonderment. And is it possible, that at this day there bee Knights errand in the world? And that there bee true Histories of Knight-hood printed? I cannot persuade myself, that there are any now that favour widows, defend Damozels, honour married women, or succour Orphans,& I should never haue believed it, if I had not in you beholded it with mine eyes: Blessed be Heauens; for with this History you speak of, which is printed of your true and lofty chivalry, those innumerable falsities of feigned Knights errand will be forgotten, which the world was full of; so hurtful to good education, and prejudicial to true Stories.  
There is much to be spoken( quoth Don Quixote) whether the Histories of Knights errand were feigned or true. Why, is there any that doubts( said he in the green) that they bee not false? I do( said Don Quixote) and let it suffice, for if our journey last, I hope in God to let you see, that you haue done ill, to bee lead with the stream of them that hold they are not true. At this last speech of Don Quixote, the traveler suspected he was some idiot, and expected when some others of his might confirm it: but before they should be diverted with any other discourse, Don Quixote desired to know who he was, since he had imparted to him his condition and life: he in the green made answer; I, Sir Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, am a Gentle-man born in a town, where( God willing) wee shall dine to day: I am well to live, my name is Don Diego de Miranda, I spend my life with my wife, and children, and friends: my sports are hunting and fishing: but I haue neither hawk nor greyhounds, onely a tame Cock-Partridge, or a murdering Ferret, some six dozen of books, some Spanish, some latin, some History, others devotion: your books of Knighthood haue not yet entred the threshold of my door, I do more turn over your profane books then religious, if they be for honest recreation, such as may delight for their language,& admire,& suspend for their invention, although in spain there be few of these. Sometimes I dine with my neighbors and f●… ds,& otherwhiles invite them: my meales are neat& 〈…〉 nothing scarce: I neither love to back-bite my s●… e, no● to ●e●re others do it: I search not into other mens lives, or a●… a Ly●ce to other mens actions, I hear every day a Ma●…, part my goods with the poor, without making a muster of my good deeds, that I may not give way to hypocri●… e and vainglory to enter into my heart, enemies that easily cease vpon the wariest breast: I strive to make peace between such as are at odds. I am devoted to our blessed Lady, and always trust in Gods infinite mercy.  
Sancho was most attentive to this relation of the life and entertainments of this Gentle-man, which seeming to him to bee good and holy, and that he that lead it, worked miracles, he flung himself from Dapple, and in great hast laid hold of his right stirrup, and with the tears in his eyes often kissed his feet: which being seen by the Gentle-man, he asked him; What do ye, Brother? Wherefore be these kisses?  
Let me kiss( quoth Sancho:) for( me thinks) your Worship is the first Saint, that in all the dayes of my life, I ever saw a horseback. I am no Saint( said he) but a great sinner, you indeed, Brother, are, and a good soul, as your simplicity shows you to be. Sancho went again to recover his pack-saddle, having( as it were) brought into the market-place his Masters laughter out of a profound melancholy, and caused a new admiration in Don Diego.  
Don Quixote asked him how many sons he had: who  told him, that one of the things in which the Philosophers Summum Bonum did consist( who wanted the true knowledge of God) was in the goods of Nature, in those of Fortune, in having many friends, and many and virtuous children. I, Sir Don Quixote( answered the Gentle-man) haue a son, whom if I had not, perhaps you would judge me more happy then I am, not that he is so bad, but because not so good as I would haue him: he is about eighteen yeers of age, six of which he hath spent in Salamanca, learning the tongues greek& Latin, and when I had a purpose that he should fall to other Sciences, I found him so besotted with poesy, and that Science( if so it may bee called) that it is not possible to make him look vpon the Law( which I would haue him study) nor divinity the queen of all Sciences. I would he were the crown of all his lineage, since wee live in an age, wherein our King doth highly reward good learning: for learning without goodness, is like a pearl cast in a Swines snout: all the day long he spends in his criticisms, whether Homer said well or ill in such a verse of his Iliads, whether marshal were bawdy or no in such an Epigram, whether such or such a verse in Virgil ought to be understood this way or that way. Indeed, all his delight is in these aforesaid Poets,& in Horace, Persius, funeral, and Tibullus; but of your modern writers he makes small account: yet for all the grudge he bears to modern poesy, he is mad vpon your catches, and your glozing vpon four verses, which were sent him from Salamanca, and that I think is his true study.  
To all which, Don Quixote answered; Children, Sir, are pieces of the very entrails of their Parents, so let them bee good or bad, they must love them, as wee must love our spirits that give us life: It concerns their Parents to direct them from their infancy in the paths of virtue, of good manners, and good and Christian exercises, that when they come to yeeres, they may be the staff of their age, and the glory of their posterity: and I hold it not so proper, to force them to study this or that Science, though to persuade them were not amiss, and though it be not to study to get his bread( the Student being so happy, that God hath given him Parents able to leave him well) mine opinion should bee, that they let him follow that kind of study he is most inclined to, and though that of Poetry be less profitable then delightful, yet it is none of those, that will dishonour the professor.  
Poetry, signor, in my opinion, is like a tender virgin, young& most beautiful, whom many other virgins, to wit, all the other Sciences, are to enrich, polish, and adorn, she is to be served by them all, and all are to bee authorised by her: but this Virgin will not bee handled and hurried up and down the streets, nor published in every market-nooke, nor Court-corners. Shee is made of a kind of alchemy, that he that knows how to handle her, will quickly turn her into the purest gold of inestimable value, he that enjoyeth her, must hold her at distance, not ●etting her lash out in unclean Satyrs, nor in dull Sonnets, she must not by any means bee vendible, except in Heroyke Poems, in lamentable Tragedies, or pleasant and artificial Comedies: Shee must not be meddled with by jesters, nor by the Ignorant vulgar, uncapable of knowing or esteeming the treasures that are locked up in her;& think not, Sir, that I call here only the common people vulgar, for whosoever is ignorant, be he Potentate or Prince, he may and must enter into the number of the vulgar: so that he who shall handle and esteem of Poetry with these Requisites I haue declared, he shall be famous, and his name shall be extolled in all the politic nations of the world.  
And whereas, Sir, you say your son neglects modern poesy, I persuade myself he doth not well in it, and the reason is this: Great Homer never wrote in latin, because he was a graecian; nor Virgil in greek, because he was a latin: Indeed all your ancient Poets wrote in the tongue which they learnt from their cradle, and sought not after strange languages to declare their lofty conceits. Which being so, it were reason this custom should extend itself thorough all nations, and that your German Poet should not be vnder-valued, because he writes in his language, nor the Castilian, or Biscayner, because they writ in theirs. But your son( as I suppose) doth not mislike modern poesy, but Poets that are merely modern, without knowledge of other tongues, or Sciences, that may adorn, rouse up, and strengthen their natural impulse,& yet in this there may be an error. For it is a true opinion, that a Poet is born so, the meaning is, a Poet is naturally born a Poet from his mothers womb, and with that inclination that heaven hath given him, without further study or Art, he composeth things, that verify his saying that said, Est Deus in nobis,& c?  
Let me also say, that the natural Poet, that helps himself with Art, shall bee much better, and haue the advantage of that Poet, that onely out of his Art strives to be so: the reason is, because Art goes not beyond Nature, but onely perfects it, so that Nature and Art mixed together, and Art with Nature, make an excellent Poet. Let this then be the scope of my discourse, Sir, let your son proceed whither his star calls him: for if he be so good a Student, as he ought to be, and haue happily mounted the first step of the Sciences, which is the languages, with them( by himself) he will ascend to the top of human learning, which appears as well in a Gentle-man, and doth as much adorn, honour, and en-noble him, as a mitre doth a Bishop, or a loose cassock a civilian. Chide your son, if he writ Satyrs that may prejudice honest men, punish him, and tear them: but if he make sermons, like those of Horace, to the reprehension of 'vice in general, as he so elegantly did, then cherish him, for it is lawful for a Poet to writ against envy, and to inveigh against envious persons in his verse, and so against other vices, if so be he aim at no particular person: But you haue Poets, that in stead of uttering a jerk of wit, they will venture a being banished to the islands of Pontus. If a Poet live honestly, he will bee so in his verses, the pen is the mindes tongue; as the conceits are, which be engendered in it, such will the writings be,& when Kings and Princes see the miraculous Science of poesy, in wise, virtuous, and grave Subiects, they honour, esteem, and enrich them,& even crown them with the leaves of that three, which 
The laurel.  the thunder-bolt offends not, in token that none shall offend them, that haue their temples honoured and adorned with such crownes. The Gentle-man admired Don Quixotes discourse, and so much, that now he forsook his opinion he had of him, that he was a coxcomb. But in the midst of this discourse, Sancho( that was deanery of it) went out of the way to beg a little milk of some shepherds not far off, curing of their sheep: so the Gentleman still maintained talk with Don Quixote, being lawfully taken and satisfied with his wise discourse. But Don Quixote lifting up suddenly his eyes, saw that in the way toward them, there came a Cart full of the Kings Colours, and taking it to be some rare adventure, he called to Sancho for his Helmet. Sancho hearing himself called on, left the shepherds, and spurred Dapple apace, and came to his Master, to whom a rash and stupendious adventure happened.   

CHAP. XVII.  
Where is shewed the last and extremest hazard, to which the unheard of courage of Don Quixote did or could arrive, with the prosperous accomplishment of the adventure of the lions.  
THE history says, that when Don Quixote called to Sancho, to bring him his Helmet, he was buying curds which the shepherds sold him; and being hastily laid at by his Master, he knew not what to do with them, or how to bestow them without losing them, for he had payed for them; so he bethought himself, and clapped them into his Masters Helmet, and this good order taken, he went to see what he would haue: who, when he came, said, give me, friend, that same Helmet, for either I know not what belongs to adventures, or that I see yonder is one that will force me to take arms. he of the green coat that heard this, turned his eyes every way, and saw nothing but a Cart that came toward them, with two or three small flags, which made him think that the said Cart carried the Kings money, and so he  told Don Quixote: but he believed him not, always thinking that every thing he saw, was adventure vpon adventure: so he answered the Gentleman, He that is warn'd, is half armed: there is nothing lost in being provided; for I know by experience, that I haue enemies visible and invisible, and I know not when, nor where, nor at what time, or in what shape they will set vpon me: and turning to Sancho, he demanded his Helmet, who misrepresenting leisure to take the Curds out, was forced to give it him as it was. Don Quixote took it, and not perceiving what was in it, clapped it suddenly vpon his head; and as the Curds were squeazed and thrust together, the whey began to run down Don Quixotes face and beard; at which he was in such a fright, that he cried out to Sancho, What ails me, Sancho? for methinks my skull is softened, or my brains melt, or that I sweat from top to to; and if it be sweat, I assure thee it is not for fear, I beleeue certainly that I am like to haue a terrible adventure of this; give me something( if thou hast it) to wipe on, for this abundance of sweat blinds me. Sancho was silent and gave him a cloth, and with it thankes to God, that his Master fell not into the business. Don Quixote wiped himself, and took off his Helmet to see what it was, that( as he thought) did be-numme his head, and seeing those white splatches in his helmet, he put vm to his nose, and smelling to them, said, By my mistress Dulcinea deal Toboso's life, they are Curds that thou hast brought me here, thou base traitor, and vnmannerly Squire. To which Sancho very cunningly, and with a great deal of pause, answered. If they be curds, give them me, pray, and Ile eat vm: but let the devill eat vm, for he put vm there. Should I be so bold as to foul your worships Helmet? and there you haue found( as I  told you) who did it. In faith Sir, as sure as God lives, I haue my Enchanters too that persecute me as a creature and part of you, and I warrant haue put that filth there, to stir you up to choler, and to make you bang my sides( as you use to do.) Well, I hope this time they haue lost their labour, for I trust in my Masters discretion, that he will consider, that I haue neither Curds, nor milk, nor any such thing; for if I had, I had rather put it in my stomach, then in the Helmet: All this may be( said Don Quixote.)  
The Gentleman observed all, and wondered, especially when Don Quixote, after he had wiped his head, face, beard, and helmet, clapped it on again, settling himself well in his stirrups, searching for his sword,& grasping his lance, he cried out: Now come on't what will, for here I am, with a courage to meet Satan himself in person.  
By this, the Cart with the flags drew near, in which there came no man but the Carter with his Mules, and another vpon the foremost of them. Don Quixote put himself forward, and asked; Whither go ye, my masters? what Cart is this? what do you carry in it? and what colours be these? To which the Carter answered, The Cart is mine, the Carriage is two fierce lions caged up, which the general of Oran sends to the King at Court for a Present: these Colours be his majesties, in sign that what goes here is his. And are the lions big, said Don Quixote? So big( said he that went toward the Cart door) that there never came bigger out of Africa into spain, and I am their keeper, and haue carried others, but never any so big: they are Male and Female, the Male is in this first grace, the Female in the hindermost, and now they are hungry, for they haue not eat to day, and therefore I pray Sir give us way; for we had need come quickly where wee may meate them. To which( quoth Don Quixote smiling a little) Your lion whelps to me? to me your lion whelps? and at this time of day? Well, I vow to God, your general that sends vm this way shall know, whether I be one that am afraid of lions. Alight, honest fellow, and if you be the Keeper, open their Cages, and let me your beasts forth; for I'll make vm know in the midst of this Champian, who Don Quixote is, in spite of those Enchanters that sent vm. fie, fie,( said the Gentleman at this instant to himself) our Knight shows very well what he is, the Curds haue softened his skull, and ripened his brains. By this Sancho came to him and said; for Gods love handle the matter so, Sir, that my Master meddle not with these lions; for if he do, they'l worry us all. Why, is your Master so mad( quoth the Gentleman) that you fear, or beleeue he will fight with field beasts? he is not mad, said Sancho, but hardy. Ile make him otherwise, said the Gentleman; and coming to Don Quixote, that was hastening the Keeper to open the Cages, said, Sir Knight, Knights errand ought to undertake adventures, that may give a likelihood of ending them well, and not such as are altogether desperate: for valour grounded vpon rashness, hath more madness then fortitude. How much more, these lions come not to assail you, they are carried to bee presented to his majesty, and therefore 'twere not good to stay or hinder their journey. Pray get you gone, gentle Sir( quoth Don Quixote)& deal with your tame Partridge, and your murdering Ferret, and leave every man to his function: this is mine, and I am sufficient to know whether these lions come against me or no: so turning to the Keeper, he cried: 
Vo●o a tal. When he would seem to swear, but swears by nothing.  By this— goodman slave, if you do not forthwith open the Cage, Ile nail you with my lance to your Cart. The Carter that perceived the resolution of that armed Vision,  told him, signior mine, will you be pleased in charity to let me unyoke my Mules, and to put myself and them in safety, before I vnsheath my lions? for if they should kill them, I am undone all dayes of my life, for I haue no other living but this Cart& my Mules. Oh thou wretch of little Faith( quoth Don Quixote) light, and unyoke, and do what thou wilt, for thou shalt see thou mightest haue saved a labour. The Carter alighted, and vnyoaked hastily, and the keeper cried out aloud, bear witness, my Masters all, that I am forced against my will to open the Cages, and to let loose the lions, and that I protest to this Gentleman, that all the harm and mischief that these Beasts shall do, light vpon him, besides that he pay me my wages and due. Shift you sirs for yourselves, before I open, for I am sure they'l do me no hurt. The Gentleman persuaded him the second time, that he should not attempt such a piece of madness; for such a folly was to tempt God.  
To which Don Quixote answered, that he knew what he did. The Gentleman replied, That he should consider well of it, for he knew he was deceived. Well, Sir,( said Don Quixote) if you will not be a spectator of this( which you think Tragedy) pray spur your Flea-bitten, and put yourself in safety. Which when Sancho heard, with tears in his eyes, he beseeched him to desist from that enterprise, in comparison of which, that of the Winde-Mils was Cakebread, and that fearful one also of the Fulling-Mill, or all the exploits that ever he had done in his life. look ye, Sir( said Sancho) here's no Enchantment, nor any such thing; for I haue looked thorough the grates and chinks of the Cages, and haue seen a claw of a true lion, by which claw I guess the lion is as big as a mountain.  
Thy fear at least( said Don Quixote) will make him as big as half the world. Get thee out of the way, Sancho, and leave me, and if I die in the place, thou knowest our agreement, repair to Dulcinea, and that's enough.  
To these he added other reasons, by which he cut off all hope of his leaving the prosecution of that foolish enterprise.  
he of the green coat would haue hindered him, but he found himself unequally matched in weapons, and thought it no wisdom to deal with a mad-man; for now Don Quixote appeared no otherwise to him, who hastening the Keeper afresh, and reiterating his threats, made the Gentleman set spurs to his mere,& Sancho to his Dapple, and the Carter to his Mules, each of them striving to get as far from the Cart as they could, before the lions should be vnhampered.  
Sancho bewailed his Masters loss; for he believed certainly that the lion would catch him in his paws, he cursed his fortune, and the time that ever he came again to his Masters service. But for all his wailing and lamenting, he left not punching of Dapple, to make him get far enough from the Cart.  
The Keeper, when he saw those that fled far enough off, began anew to require and intimate to Don Quixote, what he had formerly done: who answered, That he heard him, and that he should leave his intimations; for all was needless, and that he should make hast.  
whilst the Keeper was opening the first Cage, Don Quixote began to consider, whether it were best to fight on foot, or on horseback: And at last he determined it should be on foot, fearing that Rozinante would bee afraid to look vpon the lions: and thereupon he leaped from his horse, cast by his lance, buckled his Shield to him, and unsheathed his sword faire and softly; with a marvelous courage and valiant heart, he marched toward the Cart, recommending himself first to God, and then to his Lady Dulcinea.  
And here is to be noted, that when the Author of the true History came to this passage, he exclaims and cries, O strong( and beyond all comparison) courageous Don Quixote! thou Looking-glasse, in which all the valiant Knights of the World may behold themselves: thou new and second Don Manuel de Leon, who was the honor and glory of the Spanish Knights: with what words shall I recount this fearful exploit? or with what arguments shall I make it credible to ensuing times? or what praises will not fit and square with thee? though they may seem Hyperboles above all Hyperboles? Thou on foot, alone, undaunted and magnanimous, with thy sword onely, and that none of your cutting Foxe-blades, with a Shield, not of bright and shining steel, expectest and attendest two of the fiercest lions that ever were bread in African woods. Let thine own deeds extol thee, brave Manchegan: for I must leave vm here abruptly, since I want words to endear them.  
here the Authors exclamation ceased, and the thread of the story went knitting itself on, saying:  
The Keeper seeing Don Quixote in his posture, and that he must needs let loose the Male lion, on pain of the bold Knight his indignation, he set the first Cage wide open, where the lion( as is said) was, of an extraordinary bigness, fearful and ugly to see to. The first thing he did, was to tumble up and down the cage, stretch one paw, and rouse himself, forthwith he yawned,& gently sneezed, then with his tongue some two handfuls long, he licked the dust out of his eyes, and washed his face; which done, he thrust his head out of the Cage, and looked round about him, with his eyes like fire coals: a sight and gesture able to make Temerity itself afraid. Onely Don Quixote beholded him earnestly, and wished he would leap out of the Cart, that they might grapple, for he thought to slice him in pieces. Hitherto came the extreme of his not-heard-of madness: but the generous lion, more courteous then arrogant, neglecting such childishness, and Branados, after he had looked round about him( as is said) turned his back, and shewed his tail to Don Quixote, and very quietly lay down again in the Cage. Which Don Quixote seeing, he commanded the Keeper to give him two or three blows, to make him come forth. No, not I( quoth the Keeper) for if I urge him, I shall bee the first he will tear in pieces. I pray you, Sir Knight, be contented with your daies work, which is as much as could in valour be done, and tempt not a second hazard. The lions door was open, he might haue come out if he would; but since he hath not hitherto, he will not come forth all this day. You haue well shewed the stoutness of your courage: no brave Combatant( in my opinion) is tied to more, then to defy his Enemy, and to expect him in field; and if his contrary come not, the disgrace is his, and he that expected, remaines with the prise.  
True it is( answered Don Quixote) friend, shut the door, and give me a certificate in the best form that you can, of what you haue seen me do here: to wit, That you opened to the lion, that I expected him, and he came not out; that I expected him again, yet all would not do, but he lay down. I could do no more. Enchantments, avant, God maintain right and truth, and true chivalry: shut( as I bad you) whilst I make signs to them that are fled, that they may know this exploit from thy relation. The Keeper obeied, and Don Quixote putting his handkerchief on the point of his lance, with which he had wiped the Curd-showre from off his face, he began to call those that fled, and never so much as looked behind them, all in a troope, and the Gentleman the foreman: but Sancho seeing the white cloth, said, Hang me, if my Master haue not vanquished the wild beasts, since he calls vs. All of them made a stand, and knew it was Don Quixote that made the sign. So lessening their fear, by little and little they drew near him, till they could plainly hear that he called them. At length they returned to the Cart,& Don Quixote said to the Carter; yoke your Mules again, Brother, and get you on your way: and Sancho, give him two pistolets in gold, for him and the Lyon-keeper, in recompense for their stay. With a very good will,( said Sancho) but what's become of the lions? are they alive or dead? Then the Keeper faire and softly began to tell them of the bickering, extoling, as well as he could, Don Quixotes valour, at whose sight the lion trembling, would not, or durst not sally from the Cage, although the door were open a pretty while, and that because he had  told the Knight, that to provoke the lion, was to tempt God, by making him come out by force( as he would that he should be provoked in spite of his teeth, and against his will) he suffered the door to be shut. What think you of this, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote?) Can Enchantment now prevail against true Valour? Well may Enchanters make me unfortunate, but 'tis impossible they should bereave me of my valour.  
Sancho bestowed the Pistolets, and the Carter yoked, the Keeper took leave of Don Quixote, and thanked him for his kindness, and promised him to relate his valorous exploit to the King himself, when he came to Court. Well, if his majesty chance to ask who it was that did it, tell him, The Knight of the lions: for henceforward, I will that my name be trucked, exchanged, turned and changed now, from that I had of The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance; and in this I follow the ancient use of Knights errand, that would change their names when they pleased, or thought it convenient.  
The Cart went on it's way, and Don Quixote, Sancho, and he in the green, held on theirs. In all this while, Don Diego de Miranda spoken not a word, being busied in noting Don Quixotes speeches and actions, taking him to bee a wise mad-man, or a mad-man that came somewhat near a wise-man. he knew nothing as yet of the first part of his History, for if he had red that, he would haue left admiring his words and deeds, since he might haue known the nature of his madness: but for he knew it not, he held him to be wise and mad by fits; for what he spoken, was consonant, elegant, and well delivered: but his actions were foolish, rash, and unadvised: and( thought he to himself) What greater madness could there be, then to clap on a helmet full of Curds, and to make us beleeue that Enchanters had softened his skull? or what greater rashness or foppery, then forcibly to venture vpon lions? Don Quixote drew him from these imaginations, saying, Who doubts, signior Don Diego de Miranda, but that you will hold me in your opinion for an idle fellow, or a mad man: and no marvell that I be held so; for my actions testify no less: for all that, I would haue you know, that I am not so mad, or so shallow as I seem. It is a brave sight to see a goodly Knight in the midst 
In spain they use with horse-men& foot-men to course their Bulls to death in the Market places,  of the Market-place before his Prince, to give a thrust with his lance to a fierce Bull. And it is a brave sight to see a Knight armed in shining armor pass about the Tilt-yard at the cheerful entrusts before the Ladies; and all those Knights are a brave sight that in Military exercises( or such as may seem so) do entertain, revive, and honour their Princes Courts: but above all these, a Knight errand is a better sight, that by deserts and Wildernesses, by crosse-waies and Woods,& Mountaines, searcheth after dangerous adventures, with a purpose to end them happily and fortunately, onely to obtain glorious and lasting famed. A Knight errand( I say) is a better sight, succouring a widow in some desert, then a Court Knight courting some damosel in the City. All Knights haue their particular exercises: Let the Courtier serve Ladies, authorize his Princes Court with liveries, sustain poor Gentlemen at his Table, appoint entrusts, maintain Tourneyes, show himself noble, liberal, and magnificent, and above all, Religious, and in these he shal accomplish with his obligation. But for the Knight errand, let him search the corners of the world, enter the most intricate Labyrinths, every foot undertake Impossibles, and in the deserts and wilderness: let him resist the sunbeams in the midst of Summer, and the sharp rigor of the winds and frosts in Winter: Let not lions fright him, nor spirits terrify him, nor Hobgoblins make him quake: for to seek these, to set vpon them, and to overcome all, are his prime exercises. And since it fell to my lot to bee one of the number of these Knights errand, I cannot but under go all that I think comes under the jurisdiction of my profession. So that the encountering those lions did directly belong to me, though I knew it to be an exorbitant rashness; for well I know, that valour is a virtue betwixt two vicious extremes, as cowardice and rashness: but it is less dangerous for him that is valiant, to rise to a point of rashness, then to fall or touch vpon the Coward. For as it is more easy for a prodigal man to be liberal, then a covetous, so it is easier for a rash man to be truly valiant, then a Coward to come to true valour. And touching the on-set in adventures, believe me signor Don Diego, it is better playing a good trump then a small, for it sounds better in the hearers ears. Such a Knight is rash and hardy, then, such a Knight is fearful and cowardly.  
I say, signor( answered Don Diego) that all that you haue said and done is leveled out by the line of Reason, and I think if the Statutes and Ordinances of Knight Errantry were lost, they might be found again in your breast, as in their own Storehouse and Register, and so let us hast, for the day grows on us, let us get to my village and house, where you shall ease yourself of your former labour; which, though it haue not been bodily, yet it is mental, which doth often redound to the bodies weariness. I thank you for your kind offer, signor( quoth Don Quixote) and spurring on faster, about two of the clock they came to the Village, and Don Diego's house, whom Don Quixote styled, The Knight of the green cassock.   

CHAP. XVIII.  
What happened to Don Quixote in the Castle, or Knight of the green cassock his house, with other extravagant matters.  
DOn Quixote perceived that Don Diego de Miranda's house was spacious, after the Country manner, and his arms( though of course ston) vpon the door towards the street, his wine-celler in the Court, his other cellar or vault in the entry, with many great ston vessels round about, that were of Toboso, which renewed the remembrance of his enchanted and transformed mistress Dulcinea, so sighing,& not minding who was by, he said,  

O dulces prendas. A beginning of a Sonnet in Diana de Monte Mayor, which D. Q. here raps out vpon a sudden.  O happy pledges, found out to my loss,  
Sweet, and reviving, when the time was once.  
Oh you Tobosian tons, that bring to my remembrance the sweet pledge of my greatest bitterness. The scholar Poet, son to Don Diego, that came out with his Mother to welcome him, heard him pronounce this, and the mother and son were in some suspense at the strange shape of Don Quixote, who alighting from Rozinante, very courteously desired to kiss her hands: And Don Diego said; I pray, wife, give your wonted welcome to this Gentle-man, signor Don Quixote de la Mancha, a Knight errand, and the valiantest and wisest in the world.  
The Gentle-woman called Donna Cristina, welcomed him very affectionately, and with much courtesy, which Don Quixote retorted with many wise and mannerly compliments, and did( as it were) use the same over again to the scholar, who hearing Don Quixote speak, took him to bee wondrous wise and witty. here the Author paints out unto us all the circumstances of Don Diego his house, deciphering to us all that a Gentle-man and a rich Farmers house may haue: but it seemed good to the Translator, to pass over these and such like trifles, because they suited not with the principal scope of this History, the which is more grounded vpon truth, then vpon bare digressions.  
Don Quixote was lead into a Hall, Sancho vn-armed him, so that now he had nothing on but his breeches, and a Chamois doublet, all smudged with the filth of his armor, about his neck he wore a little scholastical band vnstarcht, and without lace, his bufkins were Date-coloured,& his shoes close on each side, his good sword he gird to him, that hung at a belt of Sea-wolues skins, for it was thought he had the running of the reins many yeeres, he wore also a long cloak of good russet-cloth: but first of all, in five or six kettles of water( for touching the quantity there is some difference) he washed his head and his face, and for all that, the water was turned whey-colour, God a mercy on Sancho's gluttony, and the buying those dismal black curds, that made his Master so white with the aforesaid bravery, and with a sprightly air and gallantry, Don Quixote marched into another room, where the scholar stayed for him, to entertain him till the cloth was laid, for the Mistris of the house, Dona Cristina, meant to show to her honourable guest, that shee knew how to make much of them that came to her house.  
whilst Don Quixote was dis-arming himself, Don Lorenzo had leisure( for that was Don Diego's sons name) to ask his father; What do you call this Gentle-man, Sir, that you haue brought with you? for his name, his shape, and your calling him Knight errand, makes my mother and me wonder. Faith, son( quoth Don Diego) I know not what I should say to thee of him, onely I may tell thee, I haue seen him play the maddest pranks of any mad-man in the world, and speak again speeches so wise, as blot out and undo his deeds; do thou speak to him, and feel the pulse of his understanding, and since thou art discreet, judge of his discretion or folly as thou seest best, though to deal plainly with thee, I rather hold him to be mad then wise.  
hereupon Don Lorenzo( as is said) went to entertain Don Quixote, and amongst other discourse that passed betwixt them, Don Quixote said to Don Lorenzo; signor Don Diego de Miranda, your father, hath  told me of your rare abilities and subtle wit, and chiefly that you are an excellent Poet. A Poet perhaps( replied Don Lorenzo) but excellent, by no means: true it is, that I am somewhat affectionated to poesy, and to red good Poets: but not so, that I may deserve the name of excellent, that my father stiles me with. I do not dislike your modesty( quoth Don Quixote) for you haue seldom times any Poet that is not arrogant, and thinks himself to be the best Poet in the world. There is no rule( quoth Don Lorenzo) without an exception, and some one there is, that is so, and yet thinks not so. Few( said Don Quixote:) but tell me, Sir, what verses bee those that you haue now in hand, that your father says do trouble and puzzle you? and if it be some kind of gloss, I know what belongs to glozing, and should be glad to hear them: and if they bee of your verses for the prise, content yourself with the second 
De iusta literaria: A custom in universities in spain, of rewards proposed to them that make the best verses.  reward: For the first goes always by favour, or according to the quality of the person, and the second is justly distributed, so that the third comes( according to this account) to be the second, and the first the third, according to degrees that are given in universities: but for all that, the word first is a great matter.  
Hitherto( thought Don Lorenzo to himself) I cannot think thee mad: proceed wee: and he said; It seems, Sir, you haue frequented the schools, what Sciences haue you heard? That of Knight Errantry( quoth Don Quixote) which is as good as your Poetry, and somewhat better. I know not what Science that is( quoth Don Lorenzo) neither hath it, as yet comne to my notice. Tis a Science( quoth Don Quixote) that contains in it all, or most of the Sciences of the world, by reason that he who professes it, must be skilful in the laws, to know Iustice distributive and commutative, to give every man his own, and what belongs to him: he must be a divine, to know how to give a reason clearly and distinctly of his Christian profession, wheresoever it shall be demanded him: he must bee a Physician, and chiefly an Herbalist, to know in a wilderness or desert, what herbs haue virtue to cure wounds: for your Knight errand must not bee looking every pissing-while who shall heal him: He must bean Astronomer, to know in the night by the stars what a clock tis, and in what part& Climate of the world he is: He must be skilful in the mathematics, because every foot he shal haue need of them: And to let pass, that he must be adorned with all divine and moral virtues; descending to other trifles, I say, he must learn to swim( as they say) fish Nicholas, or Nicolao did: he must know how to shoo a horse, to mend a saddle or bridle: And coming again to what went before, he must serve God and his Mistris inviolably, he must be chased in his thoughts, honest in his words, liberal in his deeds, valiant in his actions, patient in afflictions, charitable towards the poor, and lastly, a Defender of truth, although it cost him his life for it. Of all these great and lesser parts a good Knight errand is composed, that you may see, signor Don Lorenzo, whether it be a sniueling Science that the Knight that learns it professeth, and whether it may not be equalled to the proudest of them all taught in the schools.  
If it be so( said Don Lorenzo) I say this Science goes beyond them all. If it be so( quoth Don Quixote?) Why, let me tell you( said Don Lorenzo) I doubt whether there be any Knights errand now adorned with so many virtues. Oft haue I spoken( replied Don Quixote) that which I must now speak again, that the greatest part of men in the world are of opinion, that there be no Knights errand, and I think, if heaven do not miraculously let vm understand the truth, that there haue been such, and that at this day there be, all labour will be in vain( as I haue often found by experience.) I will not now stand vpon showing you your error: all I will do, is to pray to God to deliver you out of it, and to make you understand, how profitable and necessary Knights errand haue been to the world in former ages,& also would be at present, if they were in request: but now, for our sins, sloth, idleness, gluttony, and wantonness do reign. I'faith( thought Don Lorenzo) for this once our guest hath scaped me: but for all that, he is a lively ass, and I were a dull fool, if I did not beleeue it.  
here they ended their discourse, for they were called to dinner: Don Diego asked his son, what trial he had made of their guests understanding: To which he made answer; All the Physicians and falconers in the world will not wipe out his madness. He is a curious mad-man, and hath neat dilemmas. To dinner they went, and their meat was such as Don Diego vpon the way described it, such as he gave to his guests, well dressed, savoury and plentiful: But that which best pleased Don Quixote, was the marvelous silence throughout the whole house, as if it had been a covent of Carthusians: So( that lifting up his eyes, and grace being said, and that they had washed hands) he earnestly entreated Don Lorenzo to speak his Prize-verses.  
To which( quoth he) because I will not be like your Poets, that when they are ouer-intreated, they use to make scruple of their works, and when they are not entreated, they vomit vm out, I will speak my gloss, for which I expect no reward, as having written them only to exercise my Muse. A wise friend of mine( said Don Quixote) was of opinion, that to gloss was no hard task for any man, the reason being, that the gloss could ne're come near the Text, and most commonly the gloss was quiter from the theme given; besides that, the laws of glozing were too strict, not admitting interrogations, of, said he? or, Shall I say? Or changing nouns into verbs, without other ligaments and strictnesses to which the Glossor is tied, as you know. certainly, signor Don Quixote( said Don Lorenzo) I desire to catch you in an absurdity, but cannot, for still you slip from me like an eel. I know not( said Don Quixote) what you mean by your slipping. You shall know my meaning( said Don Lorenzo:) but for the present I pray you hearken with attention to my glossed verses, and to the gloss, as for example.  

If that my Was, might turn to Is,  
If look't for't, then it comes complete,  
Oh might I say, Now, now time tis,  
Our after-griefes may be too great.   

The gloss.  

The first verse of the gloss.  
AS every thing doth pass away,  
So Fortunes good, that erst she gave  
Did pass, and would not with me stay,  
Though she gave once all I could crave:  
Fortune, 'tis long since thou hast seen  
Me prostrate at thy feet( I wis)  
I shall be glad( as I haue been)  
If that my Was, return to Is.   

The second verse.  
unto no honour am I bent,  
No prise, Conquest, or victory,  
But to return to my content,  
Whose thought doth grieve my memory;  
If thou to me do it restore,  
Fortune; the rigor of my heat  
allayed is, let it come, before  
I look fort, then it comes complete.   

The third verse.  
Impossibles do I desire  
To make time past return( in vain)  
No power on earth can once aspire  
( Past) to recall him back again,  
Time doth go, time runs and flies  
Swiftly, his course doth never miss,  
he's in an error then that cries,  
Oh might I say, Now, now time' tis.   

The fourth verse.  
I live in great perplexity,  
Sometimes in hope, sometimes in fear,  
far better were it for to die,  
That of my griefs I might get clear;  
For me to die 'twere better far,  
Let me not that again repeat,  
fear says, 'Tis better live long: for  
Our after griefs may be too great.    
When Don Lorenzo had ended, Don Quixote stood up and cried aloud, as if he had screecht, taking Don Lorenzo by the hand, and said; Assuredly, generous youth, I think you are the best Poet in the world, and you deserve the laurel, not of Cyprus or Gaeta, as a Poet said( God forgive him) but of Athens, if it were extant, Paris, Bolonia, and Salamanca: I would to God those Iudges that would deny you the prise, might bee shot to death with arrows by Phoehus, and that the Muses never come within their thresholds. speak, Sir, if you please, some of your loftier verses, that I may altogether feel the pulse of your admirable wit.  
How say you by this, that Don Lorenzo was pleased, when he heard himself thus praised by Don Quixote, although he held him to be a mad man? Oh power of flattery, how far thou canst extend, and how large are the bounds of thy pleasing jurisdiction! This truth was verified in Don Lorenzo, since he condescended to Don Quixotes request, speaking this following Sonnet to him, of the Fable or Story of Pyramus and Thi●be.  

The wall was broken by the Virgin faire,  
That op't the gallant breast of Pyramus,  
love parts from Cyprus, that he may declare  
( Once seen) the narrow breach prodigious.  
There nought but Silence speaks, no voice doth dare,  
thorough so straight a strait, be venturous;  
Yet their mindes speak, love works this wonder rare,  
Facilitating things most wondrous.   

Desire in her grew violent, and hast  
In the fond maid, in stead of hearts delight  
solicits death: See! now the story's past,  
Both of them, in a moment( oh strange sight!)   

One Sword, one sepulchre, one memory,  
Doth kill, doth cover, makes them never die.   
Now thanked bee God( quoth Don Quixote, having heard this Sonnet) that amongst so many consumed Poets as be, I haue found one consummate, as you are, Sir, which I perceive by your well-framed Sonnet. Don Quixote remained four dayes( being well entertained) in Don Diego's house, at the end of which he desired to take his leave,& thanked him for the kindness and good welcome he had received: but because it was not fit that Knights errand should bee too long idle, he purposed to exercise his Function, and to seek after adventures he knew of; for the place whither he meant to go to, would give him plenty enough to pass his time with, till it were fit for him to go to the entrusts at Saragosa, which was his more direct course: but that first of all he meant to go to Montesino's vault, of which there were so many admirable tales in every mans mouth: so to search and inquire the Spring and Origine of those seven Lakes, commonly called of Ruydera. Don Diego and his son commended his noble determination, and bid him furnish himself with what he pleased of their house and wealth, for that he should receive it with all love and good will; for the worth of his person, and his honourable profession obliged them to it.  
To conclude, the day for his parting came, as pleasing to him, as bitter and sorrowful to Sancho, who liked wondrous well of Don Diego's plentiful provision, and was loth to return to the hunger of the forrests and wilderness, and to the hardness of his ill-furnisht wallets, notwithstanding he filled and stuffed them with the best provision he could. And Don Quixote, as he took his leave of Don Lorenzo, said; I know not, Sir, whether I haue  told you heretofore, but though I haue, I tell you again, that when you would save a great deal of labour& pains, to arrive at the inaccessible top of Fames Temple, you haue no more to do, but to leave on one hand the strait and narrow path of poesy, and to take the most narrow of Knight Errantry, sufficient to make you an Emperour, ere you would say, What's this?  
With this Epilogue Don Quixote shut up the Comedy of his madness, onely this he added: God knows, I would willingly carry signor Don Lorenzo with me, to teach him, what belongs to pardoning the humble, to kerbing and restraining the proud; virtues annexed to my profession: but since his slender age is not capable, and his laudable enterprises will not permit him, I am onely willing to aduize you, that being a Poet, you may be famous, if you govern yourself by other mens judgements, more then by your own; for you haue no parents that dislike their own children, faire or foul, and this error is more frequent in mens understandings.  
The Father and the Son afresh admired at Don Quixotes oft interposed reasons, some wise, some foolish, and at his obstinate being bent altogether vpon his unlucky adventures, which he aimed at, as the mark and end of his desire▪ they renewed again their kind offers and compliments with him; but Don Quixote taking his leave of the Lady of the Castle, mounted his Rozinante, and Sancho his Dapple; so they partend.   

CHAP. XIX.  
Of the adventure of the enamoured shepherd, with other, indeed, pleasant Accidents.  
DOn Quixote was not gone far from Don Diego's town, when he overtook two men that seemed to be Parsons, or Schollers, with two Husbandmen that were mounted vpon four Asses. One of the Schollers had( as it were in a Portmantue) a piece of white cloth for Scarlet, wrapped up in a piece of green Buckeram, and two pair of Cotton Stockings: the other had nothing but two foils, and a pair of Pumpes. The Husbandmen had other things, which shewed they came from some Market town, where they had bought them to carry home to their village: so as well the Schollers as the Husbandmen fell into the same admiration, that all they had done who first saw Don Quixote, and they longed to know what manner of fellow he was, so different from all other men. Don Quixote saluted them, and after he asked them wither they went,& that they had said they went his way, he offered them his company, and desired them to go softlyer, for that their young Asses traveled faster then his horse: and to oblige them the more, he  told them who he was, and of his profession, that he was a Knight errand, that he went to seek adventures round about the world. he  told them his proper name was Don Quixote de la Mancha, but his ordinary name, The Knight of the lions.  
All this to the Husbandmen was Heathen Greek, or peddlers French: but not to the Schollers, who strait perceived the weakness of Don Quixotes brain: Notwithstanding they beholded him with great admiration and respect, and one of them said, Sir Knight, if you go no set journey, as they which seek adventures seldom do, I pray go with us, and you shall see one of the bravest and most sumptuous marriages that ever was kept in the Mancha, or in many leagues round about. Don Quixote asked them if it were of any Prince( for so he imagined.) No, Sir,( said he) but betwixt a Farmer, and a Farmers daughter: he is the richest in all the country, and she the fairest alive. Their provision for this marriage is new and rare, and it is to be kept in a meadow near the Brides town. Shee is called, the more to set her out, Quiteria the faire, and he Camacho the rich: she is about eighteen yeeres of age, and he two& twenty, both well met, but that some nice people, that busy themselves in all mens lineages, will say that the faire Quiteria is of better parentage then he: but that's nothing, riches are able to soulder all clefts. To say true, this Chamacho is liberal, and he hath longed to make an arbour, and cover all the meadow on the Top, so that the sun will be troubled to enter to visit the green herbs underneath. He hath also certain warlike Morrices, as well of swords, as little iyngling bells; for we haue those in the town that will jangle them. For your foot-clappers I say nothing, you would wonder to see vm bestir themselves: but none of these, nor others I haue  told you of, are like to make this marriage so remarkable, as the despised Basilius. This Basilius is a neighbouring swain of Quiteria's town, whose house was next door to her Fathers. From hence love took occasion to renew unto the world, the long forgotten loues of Pyramus and Thysbe; for Basilius loved Quiteria from a child, and she answered his desires with a thousand loving favours. So that it grew a common talk in the town, of the love between the two little ones. Quiteria began to grow to some yeeres, and her Father began to deny Basilius his ordinary access to the house; and to avoid all suspicion, purposed to mary her to the rich Camacho, not thinking it fit to mary her to Basilius, who was not so rich in Fortunes goods, as in those of the mind,( for to say truth without envy) he is the actiuest youth we haue, a famous Barre-pitcher, an excellent wrestler, a great Tennis-player, he runs like a Deere, out-leapes a shee-goat, and plays at ten pings miraculously, sings like a lark, plays vpon a Gitterne as if he made it speak, and above all, fenceth as well as the best.  
For that slight only( quoth Don Quixote) the youth deserves not onely to match with the faire Quiteria, but with queen Ginebra herself, if she were now alive, in spite of Lansarote, and all that would gain-say it. There's for my wife now( quoth Sancho that had been all this while silent) that would haue every one mary with their equals, holding herself to the proverb, that says; Like to like( quoth the devill to the Collier.) All that I desire, is, that honest Basilius( for me thinks I love him) were married to Quiteria, and God give vm ioy( I was saying) those that go about to hinder the marriage of two that love well. If all that love well( quoth Don Quixote) should mary, Parents would lose the privilege of marrying their children, when and with whom they ought; and if daughters might choose their husbands, you should haue some would choose their fathers seruants, and others, any passenger in the street, whom they thought to be a lusty swaggerer, although he were a cowardly Ruffian; for love and affection do easily blind the eyes of the understanding, which is onely fit to choose, and the state of Matrimony is a ticklish thing, and there is great heed to be taken, and a particular favour to be given from above to make it light happily.  
Any man that would but undertake some voyage, if he be wise, before he is on his way, he will seek him some good companion. And why should not he do so, that must travell all his life-time till he come to his resting-place, Death? and the rather if his company must be at bed, and at board, and in all places, as the wives company must be with the Husband? Your wife is not a commodity like others, that is bought and sold, or exchanged, but an inseparable accident, that lasts for term of life. It is a nooze, that being fastened about the neck, turns to a Gordian knot, which cannot be undone but by Deaths sickle.  
I could tell ye much more in this business, were it not for the desire I haue to be satisfied by Master person, if there be any more to come of Basilius his story. To which he answered, This is all, that from the instant that Basilius knew the fair Quiteria was to be married to the rich Camacho, he was never seen to smile, or talk sensibly; and he is always sad and pensative, talks to himself: an evident token that he is distracted: eats little, sleeps much: all he eats, is fruits, and all his sleep is in the fields, vpon the hard ground like a beast; now and then he looks up to heaven, and sometimes casts his eyes downward, so senseless, as if he were onely a statue clothed, and the very air strikes off his garments. In fine, he hath all the signs of a passionate heart, and we are all of opinion, that by that time Quiteria to morrow gives the, I, it will be the sentence of his death. God forbid( said Sancho) for God gives the wound, and God gives the salve: no body knows what may happen, 'tis a good many houres between this and to morrow, and in one hour, nay one minute, a house falls, and I haue seen the sun shine, and foul weather in an instant; one goes to bed sound at night, and stirs not the next morning: and pray tell me, is there any one here that can say he hath stayed the course of Fortunes great wheel? No truly, and between a womans I, and no, I would be loth to put a pins point; for it would hardly enter. Let me haue mistress Quiteria love Basilius with all her heart, and I'll give him a bag full of good lucke, for your love( as I haue heard tell) looks wantonly with eyes that make copper seem gold, and poverty riches, and filth in the eyes, pearls. Whither a plague runnest thou, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote?) when thou goest threading on thy proverbs and thy flim-flams, Iudas himself take thee, cannot hold thee: Tell me, Beast, what knowest thou of Fortune, or her wheel, or any thing else? Oh if you understand me not, no marvell though my sentences be held for fopperies: well, I know what I say, and know I haue not spoken much from the purpose: but you, Sir, are always the Tourney to my words and actions. attorney thou wouldest say, God confounded thee, thou Preuaricator of language. do not you deal with me( said Sancho) since you know I haue not been brought up in Court, nor studied in Salamanca, to know whether I add or diminish any of my syllables. Lord God, you must not think your 
One of that province that speak a bastard language to the Spanish  Galizian can speak like your Toledonian,& they neither are not all so nimble. For matter of your Court-language( quoth the person) 'tis true; for they that are bread in the Tanner-rowes, and the 
The market place so called in Toledo.  Zocodoner, cannot discourse like them that walk all day in the high Church-Cloysters; yet all are Toledonians, the language is pure, proper, and elegant,( indeed) only in your discreet Courtiers, let them be born where they will: Discreet I say, because many are otherwise, and discretion is the Grammar of good language, which is accompanied with practise: I Sir, I thank God haue studied the Canons in Salamanca, and presume sometimes to yield a reason in plain and significant terms. If you did not presume( said the other scholar) more on your using the foils you carry, then your tongue, you might haue been signior in your degree, whereas now you are lag. look you Bachelor( quoth the person) you are in the most erroneous opinion of the world, touching the skill of the weapon, since you hold it frivolous. Tis no opinion of mine( said Corchuelo) but a manifest truth, and if you will haue me show it by experience, there you haue foils commodious: I haue an arm, and strength, which together with my courage, which is not small, shall make you confess I am not deceived; alight and keep your distance, your circles, your corners, and all your Science, I hope to make you see the stars at noon day with my skill, which is but modern and mean, which though it be small, I hope to God the man is yet vnborn that shall make me turn my back, and there is no man in the world, but I'll make him give ground. For turning your back said( said the skilful) I meddle not, though perhaps where you first set your foot, there your grave might be digged, I mean you might be killed for despising skill. That you shall try( said Corchuelo) and lighting hastily from his ass, he snatched one of the swords that the person carried. Not so( said Don Quixote instantly) Ile be the Master of this Fence, and the judge of this undecided controversy, and lighting from Rozinante, and taking his lance, he stepped between them till such time as the person had put himself into his Posture and distance against Corchuelo, who ran( as you would say) darting fire out of his eyes. The two Husbandmen that were by, without lighting from their Asses, served for spectators of the mortal Tragedy, the blows, the stockados, your false thrusts, your back-blowes, your doubling-blowes, that came from Corchuelo were numberless, as thick as hops, or hail, he laid on like an angry lion: but still the person gave him a stopple for his mouth, with the button of his foil, which stopped him in the midst of his fury, and he made him kiss it, as if it had been a relic, though not with so much devotion as is due to them. In a word, the person with pure Stocados  told all the buttons of his cassock which he had on, his skirts flying about him like a fishes tail. Twice he strooke off his hat, and so wearied him, that what for despite, what for choler and rage, he took the sword by the hilt, and flung it into the air so forcibly, that one of the husbandmen that was by, who was a notary, and went for it, gave testimony after, that he flung it almost three quarters of a mile; which testimony serves, and hath served, that it may be known and really seen, that force is overcome by Art.  
Corchuelo sate down being very weary, and Sancho coming to him, said; truly Sir Bachelor, if you take my advice, hereafter challenge no man to fence, but to wrestle, or throw the bar, since you haue youth and force enough for it; for I haue heard those( that you call your skilful men) say, that they will thrust the point of a sword through the eye of a needle. I am glad( quoth Corchuelo) that I came from my ass, and that experience hath shewed me what I would not haue believed. So rising up, he embraced the person, and they were as good friends as before. So, not staying for the Notary that went for the sword, because they thought he would tarry long, they resolved to follow, and come betimes to Quiteria's Village, of whence they all were. By the way, the person discourses to vm, of the excellency of the Art of Fencing, with so many demonstrative reasons, with so many figures and mathematical demonstrations, that all were satisfied with the rareness of the Science, and Corchuelo reduced from his obstinacy.  
It began to grow dark: but before they drew near, they all saw a kind of heaven of innumerable stars before the town. They heard likewise, harmonious and confused sounds of diuers Instruments, as Flutes, Tabers, Psalteries, Recorders, hand-Drummes and Bells: and when they drew near, they saw that the trees of an Arbour, which had been made at the entrance of the town, were all full of lights, which were not offended by the wind, that then blew not, but was so gentle, that it scarce moved the leaves of the trees. The Musicians were they that made the marriage more sprightly, who went two and two in companies, some dancing and singing, others playing vpon diuers of the aforesaid instruments: nothing but mirth ran up and down the meadow, others were busied in raising skaffolds, that they might the next day see the representations and dances commodiously, dedicated to the marriage of the rich Camacho, and the Obsequies of Basilius.  
Don Quixote would not enter the town, although the Husbandmen and the Bachelor entreated him: for he gave a sufficient excuse for himself( as he thought) that it was the custom of Knights errand to sleep in fields and forrests, rather then in habitations, though it were under golden roofs: so he went a little out of the way, much against Sancho's will, who remembered the good lodging he had in the Castle, or house of Don Diego.   

CHAP. XX.  
Of the Marriage of rich Camacho, and the success of poor Basilius.  
scarce had the silver morn given bright Phoebus leave, with the ardour of his burning rays, to dry the liquid pearls on his golden locks, when Don Quixote shaking off sloth from his drowsy members, rose up, and called Sancho his Squire, that still lay snorting: which Don Quixote seeing, before he could wake, he said, Oh happy thou above all that he vpon the face of the earth, that without envy, or being envied, sleepest with a quiet breast, neither persecuted by ●… chanters, nor frighted by Enchantments. sleep, I say, once again, nay an hundred times, sleep: let not thy Masters 〈…〉 sie keep thee continually awake, nor let care to pay thy d 〈…〉, make thee watchful, or how another day thou and thy 〈◇〉 but straightened family may live, whom neither ambition 〈…〉 bless, nor the worlds vain pomp doth weary, since the bou●… of thy desires extend no further then to thinking of thine ass; for, for thine own person, that thou hast committed to my charge, a counterpoise and burden that Nature and custom hath laid vpon the Masters. The seruant sleeps, and the Master wakes, thinking how he may maintain, good him, and do him kindnesses: the grief that is, to see heaven obdurate in relieving the earth with seasonable moisture, troubles not the seruant, but it doth the Master, that must keep in sterility and hunger, him that served him in abundance and plenty.  
Sancho answered not a word to all this, for he was asleep, neither would he haue awaked so soon, if Don Quixote had not made him come to himself with the little end of his Lance. At length he awaked, sleepy and drowsy, and turning his face round about, he said, From this arbour( if I bee not deceived) there comes a steam and smell rather of good broiled rashers, then Time& Rushes: A marriage that begins with such smells,( by my Holidam) I think twill be brave and plentiful.  
Away, Glutton( quoth Don Quixote) come and let us go see it, and what becomes of the disdained Basilius. Let him do what he will( said Sancho) were it not better that he were poor still, and married to Quiteria? There is no more in it, but let the moon loose one quarter, and shee'l fall from the clouds: Faith, Sir, I am of opinion, that the poor fellow bee contented with his fortunes,& not seek after things impossible. Ile hold one of mine arms, that Camacho will cover Basilius all over with sixpences: and if it be so, as tis like, Quiteria were a very fool to leave her bravery and jewels that Camacho hath, and can give her, and choose Basilius for his barre-pitching and fencing: In a tavern they will not give you a pint of wine for a good throw with the bar, or a trick at fence, such abilities that are worth nothing, haue vm whose will for me: but when they light vpon one that hath crownes withall, let me be like that man that hath them: vpon a good foundation, a good building may be raised, and money is the best bottom and foundation that is in the world. For Gods love, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) conclude thy tedious discourse: with which( I beleeue) if thou wert let alone, thou wouldest neither eat nor sleep for talking. If you had a good memory( said Sancho) you would remember the articles of our agreement, before we made our last sally from home, one of which was, that you would let me speak as much as I list, on condition that it were not against my neighbour, or against your authority, and hitherto I am sure I haue not broken that article.  
I remember no such article, Sancho( said he) and though it were so, I would haue you now be silent, and come with me; for now the Instruments we heard ouer-night, begin to cheer the valleys, and doubtless, the marriage is kept in the cool of the morning, and not deferred till the after-noones heat. Sancho did what his master willed him, and saddling Rozinante, with his pack-saddle clapped likewise on Dapple, the two mounted, and faire and softly entred the arbour. The first thing that Sancho saw, was a whole steer spitted vpon a whole elm, and for the fire where it was to bee roasted, there was a pretty mountain of wood, and six pots that were round-about this Bon-fire, which were never cast in the ordinary mould that other pots were, for they were six half Oliue-butts, and every one was a very Shambles of meat, they had so many whole sheep soaking in vm which were not seen, as if they had been Pigeons, the flayed Hares, and pulled Hens, that were hung vpon the trees, to bee butted in the pots, were numberless, birds and fowle of diuers sorts infinite, that hung on the trees, that the air might cool them. Sancho counted above threescore skins of wine, each of them of above two Arroba's, and as it afterward seemed, 
Arroba, a measure of 25. pound wait, which may be some six gallons of wine.  of sprightly liquour: there were also whole heaps of purest bread, heaped up like corn in the threshing-floores, your cheeses like bricks piled one vpon another, made a goodly wall, and two kettles of oil bigger then a Diers, served to fry their paste-worke, which they took out with two strong peels, when they were fried, and they ducked them in another kettle of honey that stood by for the same purpose: There were Cookes above fifty, men and women, all cleanly, careful, and cheerful: In the spacious belly of the steer, there were twelve sucking Pigs, which being sowed there, served to make him more savoury: the spices of diuers sorts, it seems were not brought by Pounds, but by Arrones, and all lay open in a great chest. To conclude, this preparation for the marriage was rustical; but so plentiful, that it might furnish an Army.  
Sancho Pansa beholded all, and was much affencted with it: and first of all, the goodly pots did captivate his desires, from whence with all his heart he would haue been glad to haue received a good pipkin full; by and by he was enamoured on the skins, and last of all vpon the fried meats, if so be those vast kettles might bee called frying-pans: so without longer patience, as not being able to abstain, he came to one of the busy Cookes, and with courteous and hungry reasons, desired him, that he might sop a cast of bread in one of the pots. To which the cook replied; Brother, this is no day on which hunger may haue any jurisdiction( thanks be to the rich Camacho) alight, and see if you can find ever a ladle there, and skimme out a Hen or two, and much good may they do you.  
I see none( said Sancho.) Stay( said the cook) God forgive me, What a ninnie tis? and saying this, he laid hold of a kettle, and sowsing into it one of the halfe-butts, he drew out of it three Hens and two goose, and said to Sancho; Eat, Friend, and break your fast with this froth, till dinner-time. I haue nothing to put it in( said Sancho.) Why, take spoon and all( said the cook) for Camacho's riches and content will very well bear it.  
whilst Sancho thus passed his time, Don Quixote saw, that by one side of the Arbour, there came a dozen Husband-men vpon twelve goodly Mares, with rich and sightly furniture fit for the country, with many little bells vpon their Petrels, all clad in bravery for that dayes solemnity, and all in a ioynt-troop ran many Careeres up and down the meadow, with a great deal of mirth and jollity, crying; Long live Camacho and Quiteria, he as rich, as shee faire, and shee the fairest of the world. Which when Don Quixote heard, thought he to himself, It well appears that these men haue not seen my Dulcinea deal Toboso: for if they had, they would not bee so forward in praising this their Quiteria.  
A while after there began to enter at diuers places of the Arbour, certain different dances, amongst which there was one Sword-dance, by four and twenty swains, handsome lusty Youths, all in white linen, with their hand-kerchiefs wrought in several colours of fine silk, and one of the twelve vpon the Mares asked him that was the fore-man of these, a nimble Lad, if any of the Dancers had hurt themselves.  
Hitherto( said he) no body is hurt, wee are all well, God bee thanked: and strait he shuffled in amongst the rest of his companions, with so many tricks, and so much slight; that Don Quixote, though he were used to such kind of dances, yet he never liked any so well as this. He also liked another very well, which was of faire young maids, so young, that never a one was under fourteen, nor none above eighteen, all clad in course green, their hair partly filletted and partly loose: but all were yellow, and might compare with the sun, vpon which they had garlands of 
Iesmines, a little sweet white flower that grows in spain in hedges, like our Sweet marjoram.  Iasmines, Roses, Wood-bine and Honysuckles, they had for their guides a reverend old man, and a matronly woman, but more light and nimble then could bee expected from their yeeres.  
They danced to the sound of a 
Zamora, a town in Castile, famous for that kind of music, like our Lanca-shire hornpipe.  Zamora bag-pipe, so that with their honest looks, and their nimble feet, they seemed to be the best Dancers in the world. After this there came in another artificial dance, of those called brawls, it consisted of eight Nymphs, divided into two ranks, God Cupid guided one rank, and Money the other, the one with his wings, his Bow, his quiver and arrows, the other was clad in diuers rich colours of gold and silk: The Nymphs that followed love, carried a white parchment scroll at their backs, in which their names were written in great letters: the first was poesy, the second Discretion, the third Nobility, the fourth Valour. In the same manner came those whom god Money lead, the first was Liberality, the second Reward, the third Treasure, the fourth Quiet Possession; before them came a wooden Castle, which was shot at by two savages clad in ivy and canvas, died in green, so to the life, that they had well-nigh frighted Sancho. Vpon the frontispiece, and of each side of the Castle, was written; The Castle of good heed: four skilful Musicians played to them on a Taber and Pipe; Cupid began the Dance, and after two changes, he lifted up his eyes, and bent his Bow against a Virgin that stood vpon the battlements of the Castle, and said to her in this manner:  

I am the powerful deity,  
In heaven above and Earth beneath,  
In Seas and Hels profundity,  
o'er all that therein live or breath.   

What 'tis to fear, I never knew,  
I can perform all that I will,  
Nothing to me is strange, or new;  
I bid, forbid, at pleasure still.   
The Verse being ended, he shot a flight over the Castle, and retired to his standing; By and by came out Money, and performed his two changes; the Taber ceased, and he spoken:  

lo I, that can do more then love,  
Yet love is he that doth me guide,  
My offspring greatest on earth, to jove  
above I nearest am allide.   

I Money am, with whom but few  
perform the honest works they ought;  
Yet here a miracle to show,  
That without me they could do ought.   
Money retired, and Poetry advanced, who after she had done her changes as well as the rest, her eyes fixed vpon the damosel of the Castle, she said:  

Lady, to thee, sweet poesy  
Her soul in deep conceits doth sand,  
wrapped up in writs of Sonnetrie,  
Whose pleasing strains do them commend.   

If with my earnestness, I thee  
Importune not, faire damosel, soon  
Thy envied fortune shall, by me,  
Mount the circled of the moon.   
Poetry gave way, and from moneys side came Liberality, and after her changes, spoken:  

To give is liberality,  
In him that shuns two contraries,  
The one of prodigality,  
Tother of hateful avarice.   

Ile be profuse in praising thee,  
Profusenesse hath accounted been  
Avice, yet sure it cometh nigh  
Affection, which in gifts is seen.   
In this sort both the shows of the two Squadrons, came in and out, and each of them performed their changes, and spoken their verses, some elegant, some ridiculous, Don Quixote onely remembered( for he had a great memory) the rehearsed ones, and now the whole troope mingled together, winding in and out with great spritelinesse and dexterity, and still as love went before the Castle, he shot a flight aloft, but Money broken gilded balls, and threw into it.  
At last, after Money had danced a good while, he drew out a great purse made of a roman Cats skin, which seemed to be full of money, and casting it into the Castle, with the blow, the boards were dis-ioyned, and fell down, leaving the damosel discovered, without any defence. Money came with his assistants, and casting a great chain of gold about her neck, they made a show of leading her captive: Which when love and his Party saw, they made show as if they would haue rescued her, and all these motions were to the sound of the Taber, with skilful dancing, the savages partend them, who very speedily went to set up and join the boards of the Castle, and the damosel was enclosed there anew: and with this the dance ended, to the great content of the Spectators.  
Don Quixote asked one of the Nymphs, Who had so dressed and ordered her? Shee answered, A person of the town, who had an excellent capacity for such inventions. Ile lay a wager( said Don Quixote) he was more Basilius his friend then Camacho's, and that he knows better what belongs to a satire then to Euen-song; he hath well fitted Basilius his abilities to the dance, and Camacho's riches.  
Sancho Pansa that heard all, said; The King is my cock, I hold with Camacho. Well, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) thou art a very Peasant, and like them that cry, Long live the conqueror. I know not who I am like( said Sancho:) but I know I shall never get such delicate froth out of Basilius his Pottage-pots, as I haue out of Camacho's: and with that shewed him the kettle full of goose and Hens, and laying hold on one, he fell to it merrily and hungerly, and for Basilius abilities this he said to their teeth: So much thou art worth as thou hast, and so much as thou hast, thou art worth. An old Grandam of mine was wont to say, there were but two lineages in the world, Hauemuch, and Haue-little; and she was mightily inclined to the former: and at this day, Master, your Physician had rather feel a having pulse, then a knowing pulse, and an ass covered with gold makes a better show then a horse with a pack-saddle. So that I say again, I am of Camacho's side, the scum of whose pots are goose, Hens, Hares, and Conies, and Basilius his, bee they near or far off, but poor thin water.  
Hast thou ended with thy tediousness, Sancho( said Don Quixote?) I must end( said he) because I see it offends you, for if it were not for that, I had work cut out for three dayes. Pray God, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) that I may see thee dumb before I die. According to our life( said Sancho) before you die, I shall be mumbling day, and then perhaps I shall bee so dumb, that I shall not speak a word till the end of the world, or at least till Domes●day.  
Although it should bee so, Sancho( said he) thy silence will never be equal to thy talking past, and thy talk to come; besides, tis very likely that I shall die before thee, and so I shall never see thee dumb, no not when thou drinkest or sleepest, to paint thee out thoroughly. In good faith, Master( quoth Sancho) there is no trusting in the raw bones, I mean Death, that devours lambs as well as sheep, and I haue heard our Vicar say, she tramples as well on the high towers of Kings, as the humble cottages of poor men: this Lady hath more power then squeamishnesse, she is nothing dainty, shee devours all, plays at all, and fills her wallets with all kind of people, ages, and pre-eminences: Shee is no Mower that sleeps in the hot weather, but mows at all hours, and cuts as well the green grass as the ●… ay: she doth not chew, but swallows at once, and crumbs down all that comes before her; shee hath a Canine appetite, that is never satisfied, and though shee haue no belly, yet shee may make us think shee is Hydropsicall, with the thirst shee hath to drink all mens lives, as if it were a jug of cold water.  
No more, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) at this instant, hold while thou art well, and take heed of falling, for certainly thou hast spoken of Death in thy rustical terms, as much as a good Preacher might haue spoken. I tell thee, Sancho, that for thy natural discretion, thou mightst get thee a Pulpit, and preach thy fine knacks up and down the world. he preaches well that lives well( said Sancho) and I know no other preaching. Thou needest not( quoth he:) But I wonder at one thing, that wisdom beginning from the fear of God, that thou, who fearest a Lizard more then him, shouldst be so wise? judge you of your Knight Errantry( said Sancho) and meddle not with other mens fears or valors, for I am as pretty a Fearer of God as any of my neighbours, and so let me snuff away this scum, for all the 
Meaning to eat his Hen& the Goose.  rest are but idle words, for which we must give account in another life. And in so saying, he began to give another assault to the kettle, with such a courage, that he wakened Don Quixote, that undoubtedly would haue taken his part, if he had not been hindered by that, that of necessity must be set down.   

CHAP. XXI.  
Of the prosecution of Camacho's marriage, with other delightful accidents.  
AS Don Quixote and Sancho were in their discourse mentioned in the former chapter, they heard a great noise and out-cry, which was caused by them that road on the Mares, who with a large career and shouts, went to meet the married couple; who, hemmed in with a thousand tricks and devices, came in company of the Vicar, and both their kindreds, and all the better sort of the neighbouring towns, all clad in their best apparel. And as Sancho saw the Bride, he said, In good faith she is not dressed like a country wench, but like one of your nice Court Dames: by th'mass me thinks her glass necke-laces she should wear, are rich coral; and her course green of Cuenca, is a 
In stead of three-piled.  thirty piled velvet; and her lacing that should be white linen,( I vow by me) is satin: well look on her hands that should haue their let rings, let me not thrive if they be not golden rings, arrant gold, and set with pearls as white as a sillabub, each of them as precious as an eye. Ah whooreson, and what locks she hath? for if they be not false, I never saw longer, nor fairer in my life. Well, well, find not fault with her liveliness and stature, and compare her me to a Date three, that bends up and down when it is loaden with bunches of Dates; for so doth she with her trinkets hanging at her hair and about her neck: I swear by my soul, she is a wench of mettall, and may very well pass the pikes in Flanders.  
Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's rustic praises, and he thought, that setting his mistress Dulcinea aside, he never saw fairer woman: the beauteous Quiteria was somewhat pale, belike, with the ill night that Brides always haue when they dress themselves for next daies marriage. They drew near to a theatre on one side of the meadow, that was dressed with Carpets and boughs, where the marriage was to bee solemnized, and where they should behold the dances and inventions. And just as they should come to the place, they heard a great out-cry behind them, and a voice, saying; Stay a while, rash people as well as hasty: At whose voice and words they all turned about, and saw that he that spoken, was one clad( to see to) in a black lacket all welted with Crimson in flames, crwoned( as they strait perceived) with a crown of mournful cypress, in his hand he had a great Truncheon: and coming nearer, he was known by all to be the Gallant Basilius, who were in suspense, expecting what should be the issue of those cries and words, fearing some ill success from this so unlooked for arrival. he drew near, weary, and out of breath, and coming before the married couple, and clapping his Truncheon vpon the ground, which had a steel pike at the end of it: his colour changed, and his eyes fixed vpon Quiteria, with a fearful and hollow voice, thus spoken:  
Well knowest thou, forgetful Quiteria, that according to the Law of God that wee profess, that whilst I live thou canst not be married to any other: neither are you ignorant, that because I would stay till time and my industry might better my fortunes, I would not break that decorum that was fitting to the preserving of thy honesty: but you forgetting all duty, due to my virtuous desires, will make another Master of what is mine, whose riches serve not onely to make him happy in them, but every way fortunate, and that he may be so to the full,( not as I think he deserves it, but as the Fates ordain it for him) I will with these hands remove the impossibility or inconvenience that may disturb him, removing myself out of the way. live, rich Camacho, live with the ungrateful Quiteria many& prosperous yeeres, and let your poor Basilius die, whose poverty clipped the wings of his happiness, and laid him in his grave: and saying this, he laid hold of his Truncheon that he had stuck in the ground, and the one half of it remaining still there, shewed that it served for a scabbard to a short tuck that was concealed in it, and putting that which might be called the hilt on the ground, with a nimble spring, and a resolute purpose, he cast himself vpon it, and in an instant the bloody point appeared out of his back, with half the steel blade, the poor soul weltering in his blood, all along on the ground, run thorough with his own weapon. His friends ran presently to help him, grieved with his misery and miserable hap, and Don Quixote forsaking his Rozinante, went also to help him; took him in his arms, but found that as yet there was life in him. They would haue pulled out the tuck, but the Vicar there present; was of opinion that it were not best before he had confessed himself; for that the drawing it out, and his death, would be both at one instant. But Basilius coming a little to himself; with a faint and doleful voice, said, If thou saidest, O Quiteria, yet in this last and forcible trance, give me thy hand to be my spouse, I should think my rashness might something excuse me, since with this I obtained to be thine.  
The Vicar hearing this, bad him he should haue a care of his souls health, rather then of the pleasures of his body, and that he should hearty ask God forgiveness for his sins, and for his desperate action. To which Basilius replied, That he would by no means confess himself, if Quiteria did not first give him her hand to be his spouse, for that content would make him cheerfully confess himself. When Don Quixote heard the wounded mans petition, he cried aloud, that Basilius desired a thing very just and reasonable, and that signor Camacho would be as much honoured in receiving Quiteria, the worthy Basilius his widdow, as if he had received her from her Fathers side: here is no more to do but give one I, no more then to pronounce it, since the nuptial bed of this marriage must be the grave.  
Camacho gave ear to all this, and was much troubled, not knowing what to do or say: but Basilius his friends were so earnest, requesting him to consent that Quiteria might give him her hand to bee his Spouse, that he might not endanger his soul, by departing desperately, that they moved him and enforced him, to say that if Quiteria would, he was contented, seeing it was but deferring his desires a minute longer. Then all of them came to Quiteria, some with entreaties, others with tears, most with forcible reasons, and persuaded her she should give her hand to poor Basilius; and shee more hard then marble, more lumpish then a statue, would not answer a word, neither would she at all, had not the Vicar bid her resolve what she would do, for Basilius was even now ready to depart, and could not expect her irresolute determination. Then the faire Quiteria, without answering a word, all sad and troubled, came where Basilius was, with his eyes even set, his breath failing him, making show as if he would die like a gentle, and not like a Christian. Quiteria came at length, and vpon her knees made signs to haue his hand. Basilius vnioyn'd his eyes, and looking steadfastly vpon her, said, Oh Quiteria, thou art now come to be pitiful, when thy pitty must be the sword that shall end my life, since now I want force to receive the glory that thou givest in choosing me for thine, or to suspend the dolor that so hastily closeth up mine eyes, with the fearful shade of death. All I desire thee is( oh fatal star of mine) that the hand thou requirest, and that that thou wilt give me, that it be not for fashion-sake, nor once more to deceive me, but that thou confess and say without being forced to it, that thou givest me thy hand freely, ●s to thy lawful Spouse, since it were unmerciful in this trance to deceive me, or to deal falsely with him that hath been so true to thee. In the midst of this discourse he fainted, so that all the standards by thought now he had been gone. Quiteria all honest and shamefast, laying hold with her right hand on Basilius his, said to him; No force can work vpon my will, and so I give thee the freest hand I haue to be thy lawful Spouse, and receive thine, if thou give it me as freely, and that the anguish of thy sudden accident do not too much trouble thee. I give it( said Basilius) lively and courageously, with the best understanding that heaven hath endowed me withall, and therefore take me, and I deliver myself as thy espousall; and I( said Quiteria) as thy Spouse, whether thou live long, or whether from my arms they carry thee to thy grave.  
This young man( said Sancho) being so wounded, talks much me thinks, let him leave his wooing, and attend his souls health, which me thinks appears more in his tongue, then in his teeth.  
Basilius and Quiteria having their hands thus fastened, the Vicar, tender-harted and compassionate, powred his blessing vpon them, and prayed God to give good rest to the new-married mans soul, who as soon as he received this benediction, suddenly starts up, and with an vnlook't for agility, drew out the tuck which was sheathed in his body. All the spectators were in a maze, and some of them, more out of simplicity then curiosity, began to cry out, A Miracle, a Miracle: but Basilius replied, No Miracle, no Miracle; but a trick, a trick. But the Vicar, heed-lesse and astonished, came with both his hands to feel the wound,& found that the blade had neither passed thorough flesh or ribs, but thorough a hollow pipe of iron, that he filled with blood well fitted in that place, and( as after it was known) prepared so, that it could not congeal. At last the Vicar and Camacho, and all the standards by, thought that they were mocked and made a laughing-stocke. The Bride made no great show of sorrow: rather when she heard say that the marriage could not stand currant, because it was deceitful, she said, that shee anew confirmed it; by which they all collected, that the business had been plotted by the knowledge& consentment of them both. At which, Camacho and his friends were so abashed, that they remitted their reuenge to their hands, and vnsheathing many swords, they set vpon Basilius, in whose favor in an instant there were as many more drawn: and Don Quixote taking the Vantguad on horseback, with his lance at his rest, and well covered with his shield, made way thorough vm all. Sancho( whom such feats did never please or solace) ran to the pottage-pot, from whence he had gotten the skimmings, thinking that to be a sanctuary, and so to be respected. Don Quixote cried aloud, Hold, hold, Sirs; for there is no reason that you should take reuenge for the wrongs that love doth us: and observe, that love and war are all one: and as in war it is lawful to use sleights and stratagems to overcome the enemy: So in amorous strifes and competencies, Impostures and juggling tricks are held for good, to attain to the wished end, so it bee not in prejudice and dishonour of the thing affencted. Quiteria was due to Basilius, and Basilius to Quiteria, by the just and favourable inclination of heaven. Camacho is rich, and may purchase his delight, and whom God hath joined, let no man separate. Basilius hath but this one sheep, let none offer to take it from him, be he never so powerful: he that first attempts it, must first pass thorough the point of this lance; at which he shaked his lance so strong and cunningly, that he frighted all that knew him not: But Quiteria's disdain was so inwardly fixed in Camacho's heart, that he forgot her in an instant; so that the Vicars persuasions prevailed with him,( who was a good discreet and honest-minded man) by which Camacho and his complices were pacified& quieted, in sign of which, they put up their swords, rather blaming Quiteria's facility, then Basilius his industry. Camacho framed this discourse to himself, That if Quiteria loved Basilius when she was a maid, shee would also haue continued her love to him though she had been his wife, and so that he ought to give God thankes rather for having ridden him of her, then to haue given her to him. Camacho then,& those of his crew being comforted and pacified, all Basilius his likewise were so, and Camacho to show that he stomached not the iest, nor cared for it, was willing the feast should go forward, as if he had been really married. But neither Basilius, nor his Spouse, nor their followers would stay, but went to Basilius his town: for your poor that are virtuous and discreet, haue as well those that will follow, honour and uphold them, as the rich theirs, and such as will flatter them. Don Quixote went with them too, for they esteemed him to be a man of worth& valor. But Sancho's mind was in a mist, to see that it was impossible for him to stay for Camacho's sumptuous feast& sports that lasted till the evening: so that straighted and sorrowful, he followed on with his Master that went in Basilius his squadron, and thus left behind him those flesh-pots of egypt, though he bore them with him in his mind, whose skumme which he carried in the kettle being consumed now and ended, represented unto him the glorious and abundant happiness he lost, so that all sad and sorrowful, though hungerlesse, without alighting from Dapple, he followed Rozinantes track.   

CHAP. XXII.  
Of the famous adventure of Montesinos cave, which is in the heart of Mancha, which the valorous Don Quixote happily accomplished.  
THE married couple made wonderful much of Don Quixote, obliged thereunto for the willingness he shewed to defend their cause, and with his valor they paralleled his discretion, accounting him a Cid in arms, and a Cicero in eloquence. The good Sancho recreated himself three daies at the Bridegroomes charge,& now knew that Quiteria knew nothing of the feigned wounding, but that it was a trick of Basilius, who hoped for the success that hath been shewed: true it was, that he had made some of his loving friends acquainted with his purpose, that they might help him at need, and make good his deceit. They cannot be called deceits( quoth Don Quixote) that are done to a virtuous end, and that the marriage of a loving couple was an end most excellent: but by the way, you must know that the greatest opposite that love hath, is want& continual necessity; for love is all mirth, content& gladsomenes, and the more, when he that loues, enjoys the thing loved; against which, necessity and poverty are open and declared enemies. All this he spoken with a purpose to aduise Basilius, that he should leave exercising his youthful abilities, that although they got him a name, yet they brought no wealth,& that he should look to lay up something now by lawful& industrious means, which are never wanting to those that will be wary and apply themselves: the honest poor man( if so be the poor man may be called honest) hath a jewel of a faire woman, which if any man bereave him of, dis-honors him and kills her. Shee that is faire& honest, when her husband is poor, deserves to be crwoned with laurel and triumphant bays. Beauty alone attracts the eyes of all that behold it, and the princely Eagles& high flying birds do stoop to it as to the pleasing Lure: but if extreme necessity be added to that beauty, then Kites and crows will grapple with it, and other ravenous birds; but shee that is constant against all these assaults, doth well deserve to bee her husbands crown. mark, wise Basilius( proceeds Don Quixote) it was an opinion of I know not what sage man, that there was but one good woman in the world, and his advice was, That every man should think that was married, that his wife was she, and so he should be sure to live contented. I never yet was married, neither haue I any thought hitherto that way; notwithstanding, I could be able to give any man counsel herein that should ask it, and how he should choose his wife.  
First of all I would haue him rather respect famed then wealth, for the honest woman gets not a good name onely with being good, but in appearing so; for your public looseness and liberty doth more prejudice a womans honesty, then her sinning secretly. If you bring her honest to your house, tis easy keeping her so, and to better her in that goodness; but if you bring her dis-honest, tis hard mending her; for it is not very pliable to pass from one extreme into another, I say not impossible: but I hold it to be very difficult.  
Sancho heard all this,& said to himself, This Master of mine, when I speak matters of marrow and substance, is wont to tell me, that I may take a Pulpit in hand, and preach my fine knacks up and down the world: but I may say of him, that when he once begins to thread his sentences, he may not onely take a Pulpit in hand, but in each finger too, and go up and down the market places, and cry, Who buys my ware? The devill take thee, for a Knight errand, how wise he is! On my soul I thought he had known onely what belonged to his Knight Errantry; but he snaps at all, and there is no boat that he hath not an oar in. Sancho spoken this somewhat aloud, and his Master overheard him, and asked, What is that thou art grumbling, Sancho? I say nothing, neither do I grumble,( quoth he) I was onely saying to myself, that I would I had heard you before I was married, and perhaps I might now haue said, The sound man needs no Physician. Is Teresa so bad, Sancho, said Don Quixote? Not very bad, said Sancho, and yet not very good, at least, not so good as I would haue her. Thou dost ill, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) to speak ill of thy wife, who is indeed mother of thy children.  
There's no love lost( quoth Sancho:) for she speaks ill of me too, when shee list, especially when shee is jealous, for then the devill himself will not cope with her. Well, three dayes they stayed with the married Couple, where they were welcomed like Princes. Don Quixote desired the skilful person to provide him a Guide that might show him the way to Montesino's cave, for he had a great desire to enter into it, and to see with his own eyes, if those wonders that were  told of it up& down the country were true. The person told him, that a Cousin-German of his, a famous Student, and much addicted to books of Knight-hood should go with him, who should willingly carry him to the mouth of the cave, and should show the famous Lake of Ruydera, telling him he would bee very good company for him, by reason he was one that knew how to publish books, and direct them to great men.  
By and by the young Student comes me vpon an ass with foal, with a course packing-cloth, or doubled carpet vpon his pack-saddle. Sancho saddled Rozinante, and made ready his Dapple, furnished his wallets, and carried the Students too, as well provided; and so taking leave, and bidding all, God bee with you, they went on, holding their course to Montesino's cave. By the way Don Quixote asked the scholar, of what kind or quality the exercises of his profession and study were. To which he answered, that his Profession was Humanity, his Exercises and Study to make books for the press, which were very beneficial to himself, and no less grateful to the Commonwealth, that one of his books was entitled, The book of the liveries, where are set down seven hundred and three sorts of liveries, with their colours, mottoes, and ciphers; from whence any may bee taken at festival times and shows, by Courtiers without begging them from any body, or distilling( as you would say) from their own brains, to suit them to their desires and intentions; for I give to the jealous, to the forsaken, to the forgotten, to the absent, the most agreeable, that will fit them as well as their Puncks. Another book I haue, which I mean to call the Metamorphosis, or Spanish ovid, of a new and rare invention: for imitating ovid in it, by way of mocking: I show who the Giralda of sevil was, the angel of the Magdalena, 
All th●se several rarities of spain.  who was the Pipe of Vecinguerra of Cordoua, who the bulls of Guisando, Sierra Morena, the springs of L●ganitos and Lauapies in Madrid; not forgetting that of Pioio, that of the gilded pipe, and of the abbess, and all this with the Allegories, Metaphors, and Translations, that they delight, suspend, and instruct all in a moment. Another book I haue, which I call a supply to Polydore Virgil, concerning the invention of things which is of great reading and study, by reason that I do verify many matters of weight that Polydore omitted, and declare them in a very pleasing style; Virgil forgot to tell us who was the first that had a Catarre in the world, and the first that was anointed for the French disease, and I set it down presently after I propose it, and authorize it with at least four and twenty Writers, that you may see whether I haue taken good pains, and whether the said book may not be profitable to the world.  
Sancho, that was very attentive to the Schollers narration, asked him: Tell me, Sir, so God direct your right hand in the Impression of your books: Can you tell me?( For I know you can, since you know all) who was the first man that scratched his head, for I beleeue it was our first father Adam? Yes mary was it( said he) for Adam, no doubt, had both head& hair,& being the first man in the world, would sometimes scratch himself. I beleeue it( quoth Sancho:) but tell me now, Who was the first Vaulter in the world? truly, Brother( said he) I cannot at present resolve you, I will study it when I come to my books, and then Ile satisfy you, when wee see one another again, for I hope this will not be the last time. Well, Sir( said Sancho) never trouble yourself with this, for now I can resolve the doubt: Know, that the first Tumbler in the world was Lucifer, when he was cast out of heaven, and came tumbling down to Hell.  
You say true( quoth the scholar.) And Don Quixote said; This answer, Sancho, is none of thine, thou hast heard some body say so. Peace, Sir( quoth Sancho) for if I fall to questions and answers, I shall not make an end between this and morning: And to ask foolish questions, and answer vnlikeli-hoods, I want no help of my neighbours. Thou hast spoken more, Sancho, then thou thinkest for( quoth Don Quixote) for you haue some that are most busied in knowing and averring things, whose knowledge and remembrance is not worth a button. All that day they passed in these and other delightful discourses, and at night they lodged in a little village, from whence the scholar  told them they had but two little leagues to Montesino's cave, and that if he meant to enter it, he must be provided of ropes, to tie and let himself down into the depth. Don Quixote said, that though it were as deep as Hell, he would see whither it reached: so they bought a hundred fathom of cordage,& the next day at two of the clock, they came to the cave, whose mouth is wide and spacious; but full of briars,& brambles,& wild fig-trees,& weeds so intricate& thick, that they altogether blind and damit up. When they came to it, Sancho and the scholar alighted, and Don Quixote, whom they tied strongly with the cordage: and whilst they were swathing and binding of him, Sancho said to him; Take heed, Sir, what you do, do not bury yourself alive, and do not hang yourself like a bottle to be cooled in some Well; for it neither concerns nor belongs to you, to search this place worse then a Dungeon.  
bind me and peace( quoth Don Quixote) for such an enterprise as this, Sancho, was reserved for me. Then said the Guide, I beseech you, signor Don Quixote, that you take heed, and look about you with an hundred eyes, to see what is within; for perhaps you may meet with things that will be fit for me to put in my book of Transformations. He hath his Instrument in his hand( quoth Sancho) that knows how to use it.  
This said, and Don Quixotes binding ended( which was not vpon his harness, but vpon his arming doublet) he said. We did unadvisedly, in not providing ourselves of some small bell, that might haue been tied with me to the same cord, by whose sound, you might know that I were still toward the bottom and alive: but since there is now no remedy, God bee our good speed, and strait he kneeled vpon his knees, and made a soft prayer to God Almighty, desiring his aid, and to give him good success in that( to see to) dangerous and strange adventure, and then straightways he cried aloud; Oh thou Mistris of my actions and motions, most excellent, peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso, if it be possible, that the prayers and requests of this thy happy lover come to thine ears, hearken, I beseech thee, by thy unheard of beauty, deny not now unto me thy favour and protection, which I so much need: I go to cast myself headlong to a plunge, and sink myself into the Abissus, that presents itself to me, that the world may know, that if thou favour me, there shall be nothing impossible for me to undergo and end.  
And in saying this, he came to the mouth, but saw he could not come near to bee let down, except it were by making way with main force, or with cutting thorough, and so laying hand on his sword, he began to cut and slash the weeds that were at the mouth of the cave; at whose rushing and noise, there came out an infinite Company of crows and daws, so thick and so hastily, that they tumbled Don Quixote on the ground, and if he had been as superstitious, as good Christian, he would haue taken it for an ill sign, and not haue proceeded.  
Well, he rose, and seeing the crows were all gone, and that there were no other night-birds, as Bats, that came out amongst the crows, Sancho and the scholar let him down, to search the bottom of that fearful cave; but Sancho first bestowed his benediction on him, and making a thousand crosses over him, said; God and the rock of France, together with the Trinity 
several places of devotion.  of Gaeta, guide thee, thou Flower, cream, and scum of Knights errand: There thou goest, Hackster of the world, Heart of steel, and arms of brass, God again be thy Guide, and deliver thee sound and without scar, to the light of this world which thou leavest, to bury thyself in the obscurity which thou seekest.  
The scholar did( as it were) make the same kind of wishes and deprecations. Don Quixote cried out, that they should yet give him more rope, which they gave by little and little: and when his voice( that was stopped in the gutters of the cave) could be no longer heard, and that they had let down their hundred fathom of rope, they were of opinion to hoist him up again, since they could give him no more cord; for all that, they stayed some half an hour, and then began easily to draw up the rope,& without any wait, which made them think Don Quixote was within, and Sancho believing it, wept bitterly, and drew up apace, that he might bee satisfied: but coming somewhat near fourscore fathom, they felt a weight, which made them very much rejoice.  
At length when they came to ten, they plainly saw Don Quixote: to whom Sancho cried out, saying; You are well returned, Sir, for we thought you had stayed there for breed. But Don Quixote did not answer a word: but drawing him altogether out, they saw that his eyes were shut, as if he were asleep; they stretched him on the ground, and unbound him, and for all this he awaked not. But they so turned, tossed& shaked him, that a pretty while after he came to himself, lazing himself, as if he had wakened out of a great and profound sleep, and looking wildly round-about him, said; God forgive you, Friends, for you haue raised me from one of the delicatest and pleasingest lives and sights that ever was seen by human eye: Now at length I perceive, that all the delights of this world do pass like a shadow or dream, or whither like a flower of the field: Oh unhappy Montesino's, oh ill wounded Durandarte, oh luckles Balerma, oh mournful Guadiana,& you unfortunate daughters of Ruydera, that show by your waters, those your faire eyes wept.  
The scholar and Sancho gave ear to these words which Don Quixote spake, as if with great pain they came from his very entrails: They desired him to let them know his meaning, and to tell them what he had seen in that hellish place. Hellish, call ye it, said Don Quixote? well, call it not so, for it deserves not the name, as strait you shall hear: he desired them to give him somewhat to eat, for he was exceeding hungry. They laid the Schollers course wrapper vpon the green grass, and went to the Spence of their wallets, and all three of them being set like good fellowes, eat their Beauar, and supped all together. The cloth taken up ( Don Quixote said) Sit still Ho, let none of you rise, and mark me attentively.   

CHAP. XXIII.  
Of the admirable things, that the vnparalel'd Don Quixote recounted, which he had seen in Montesino's profound cave, whose strangeness and impossibility makes this Chapter be held for Apocrypha.  
IT was well toward four of the clock, when the sun, covered between two clouds, shewed but a dim light, and with his temperate beams, gave Don Quixote leave, without heat or trouble, to relate to his two conspicuous Auditors, what he had seen in Montesino's cave; and he began, as followeth: About a twelve or fourteen mens heights in the profundity of this Dungeon, on the right hand, there is a concavity and Space able to contain a Cart, Mules and all; some light there comes into it by certain chinks and loope-holes, which answer to it a far off in the Superficies of the earth; this Space and concavity saw I, when I was weary and angry to see me myself, hanging by the rope, to go down that obscure region, without being carried a sure or known way: so I determined to enter into it, and to rest a little; I cried out unto you, that you should let down no more rope, till I bad you; but it seemed you heard me not: I went gathering up the rope you let down to me, and rolling of it up into a heap, sate me down vpon it, very pensative, thinking with myself what I might do to get to the bottom; and being in this thought and confusion, vpon a sudden( without any former inclination in me) a most profound sleep came vpon me, and when I least thought of it, without knowing how, nor which way, I awaked out of it, and found myself in the midst of the fairest, most pleasant, and delightful meadow, that ever Nature created, or the wisest human discretion can imagine; I snuffed mine eyes, wiped them, and saw that I was not asleep, but really awake, notwithstanding I felt vpon my head and my breast, to be assured, if I were there myself or no in person, or that it were some illusion, or counterfeit; but my touching, feeling, and my reasonable discourse that I made to myself, certified me, that I was then present, the same that I am now.  
By and by I saw a Princely and sumptuous Palace or Castle, whose walls and battlements seemed to bee made of transparent crystal, from whence( vpon the opening of two great gates) I saw that there came towards me a reverend old man, clad in a tawny bays frocke, that he dragged vpon the ground; over his shoulders and breast, he wore a tippet of green satin, like your fellowes of colleges, and vpon his cap a black Milan bonnet, and his hoary beard reached down to his girdle, he had no kind of weapon in his hand, but onely a Rosary of Beads, somewhat bigger then reasonable wal-nuts, and the Credo-Beads, about the bigness of Ostrich eggs, his countenance, place, gravity, and his spreading presence, each thing by itself, and all together, suspended and admired.  
He came to me, and the first thing he did, was to embrace me straightly, and forthwith said; It is long since( renowned Knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha) that we, who live in these enchanted deserts, haue hoped to see thee, that thou mightst let the world know what is contained here, and enclosed in this profound cave, which thou hast entred, called Montesino's cave: an exploit reserved onely to be attempted by thy invincible Heart, and stupendious Courage. Come with me, thou most Illustrious Knight, for I will show thee the wonders that this transparent Castle doth conceal, of which I am the governor, and perpetual chief Warder, as being the same Montesinos, from whom the cave takes name.  
Scarce had he  told me that he was Montesinos, when I asked him, Whether it were true that was bruited here in the world above, that he had taken his great friend Durandartes heart out of the midst of his bosom with a little dagger, and carried it to the Lady Belerma( as he willed) at the instant of his death? he answered me, that all was true, but onely that of the dagger, for it was no dagger, but a little stiletto, as sharp as a Nawle.  
Belike( quoth Sancho) it was of Ramon de Hozes the Seuillians making. I know not( said Don Quixote) but twas not of that Stilletto-maker, for he lived but the other day, and that battle of Roncesualles, where this accident happened, was many yeeres since: but this averring is of no importance or let, neither alters the truth, or Stories text.  
You say right( quoth the scholar) for I hearken with the greatest delight in the world. With no less do I tell it you( said Don Quixote) and proceed; The venerable Montesinos brought me into the Cristalline Palace, where in a low Hall, exceeding fresh and cool, all of Alabaster, was a great sepulchre of Marble, made with singular Art, vpon which I saw a Knight laid at length, not of brass, Marble, or Iaspar, as you use to haue in other tombs, but of pure flesh and bone, he held his right hand( which was somewhat hairy and sinowy, a sign that the owner was very strong) vpon his heart-side, and before I asked Montesinos ought, that saw me in suspense, beholding the tomb, he said:  
This is my friend Durandarte, the flower and mirror of chivalry, of the enamoured and valiant Knights of his time: He is kept here enchanted, as myself and many more Knights and Ladies are, by Merlin that French Enchanter; who, they say, 
For so I translate it, to show the authors mistake.  was son to the the devill, but as I beleeue he was not so, only he knew more then the devill. Why, or how he enchanted us, no body knows, which the times will bring to light, that I hope are not far off: all that I admire is,( since I know for certain, as it is now day, that Durandarte dyed in my arms, and that after he was dead, I took out his heart, and surely it weighed above two pounds; for according to natural Philosophy, he that hath the biggest heart, is more valiant then he that hath but a less: which being so, and that this Knight died really) how he complains and sighs sometimes as if he were alive? Which said, the wretched Durandarte, crying out aloud, said; Oh my Cousin Montesinos, the last thing that I requested you when I was dying, and my soul departing, was, That you would carry my heart to Belerma, taking it out of my bosom, either with poniard or dagger: which when the venerable Montesinos heard, he kneeled before the grieved Knight, and with tears in his eyes, said; Long since, Oh Durandarte, long since my dearest Cousin, I did what you en-ioyn'd me in that bitter day of our loss; I took your heart, as well as I could, without leaving the least part of it in your breast: I wiped it with a laced handkerchief, and posted with it towards France, having first laid you in the bosom of the earth, with so many tears as was sufficient to wash my hands, or to wipe off the blood from them, which I had gotten by stirring them in your entrails: and for more assurance that I did it, my dearest Cousin, at the first place I came to from Roncesualle, I cast salt vpon your heart, that it might not stink, and might be fresh, and embalmed when it should come to the presence of the Lady Belerma, who with you and me, Guadiana your Squire, the waiting-woman Ruydera, and her seven Daughters, and her two nieces, and many other of your acquaintances and friends, haue been enchanted here by Merlin that Wizard long since, and though it be above five hundred yeeres ago, yet none of us is dead; onely Ruydera, her Daughters and nieces are wanting, whom by reason of their lamentation, Merlin that had compassion on them, turned them into so many Lakes now living in the world: and in the province of Mancha they are called the Lakes of Ruydera; seven belong to the Kings of spain, and the two nieces to the Knights of the most holy Order of Saint John. Guadiana your Squire, wailing in like manner this mis-hap, was turned into a river that bore his own name, who when he came to the superficies of the earth, and saw the Sun in another heaven, such was his grief to haue left you, that he strait plunged himself into the entrails of the earth: but, as it is not possible for him to leave his natural Current, sometimes he appears and shows himself, where the sun and men may see him. The aforesaid Lakes do minister their waters to him, with which, and many others, he enters Portugall in pomp: but which way so ere he goes, he shows his sorrow and melancholy, and contemns the breeding of dainty fish in his waters, and such as are esteemed, but only muddy and unsavoury, far differing from those of golden Tagus; and what I now tell you, Cousin mine, I haue  told you often, and since you answer me nothing, I imagine you either beleeue me not, or not hear me; for which( God knows) I am hearty sorry. One news I will let you know, which, though perhaps it may not any way lighten your grief, yet it will no way increase it: Know, that you haue here in your presence,( open your eyes and you shall see him) that famous Knight, of whom Merlin prophesied such great matters, that Don Quixote de la Mancha, I say, that now newly and more happily then former Ages, hath raised the long-forgotten Knight Errantry, by whose means and favour, it may be, that we also may be dis-inchanted; for great exploits are reserved for great Personages. And if it be otherwise( answered the grieved Durandarte) with a faint and low voice, if it be otherwise, oh Cousin, I say, 
Patiencia ybaraiar. A Metaphor taken from Cardplayers, who when they lose, cry to the dealer, Patience, and shuffle the Cards.  Patience and shuffle: and turning on one side, he returned to his accustomend silence, without speaking one word.  
By this wee heard great howling and moan, accompanied with deep sighs, and short-breathed accents: I turned me about, and saw that in another room there came passing by the crystal waters, a procession of a company of most beautiful Damozels, in two ranks, all clad in mourning, with turbans vpon their heads, after the Turkish fashion; at last, and in the end of the ranks, there came a Lady, who by her majesty appeared so, clothed in like manner in black, with a white dressing on her head, so large, that it kissed the very ground. Her turban was twice as big as the biggest of the rest, shee was somewhat beetle-brow'd, flatte-nosed, wide-mouth'd, but redde-lipped: her teeth, for sometimes she discovered them, seemed to be thin, and not very-well placed, though they were as white as blancht Almonds; in her hand shee carried a fine cloth, and within it( as might be perceived) a Mommied heart, by reason of the dry embalming of it: Montesinos  told me, that all those in that procession, were seruants to Durandarte and Belerma, that were there enchanted with their Masters,& that shee that came last with the linen cloth and the heart in her hand, was the Lady Belerma, who, together with hir Damozels, four daies in the week did make that procession, singing, or to say truer, howling their Dirges over the body& grieved heart of his Cousin, and that if now she appeared somewhat foul to me, or not so faire as famed hath given out, the cause was; her bad nights, but worse daies that she endured in that enchantment; as I might see by her deepe-sunke eyes, and her broken complexion, and her monthly disease, is not the cause of these,( an ordinary thing in women) for it is many moneths since, and many yeeres, that she hath not had it, nor known what it is; but the grief that shee hath in her own heart, for that she carries in her hand continually, which renews and brings to her remembrance, the vnfortunatenesse of her luckless lover; for if it were not for this, scarce would the famous Dulcinea deal Toboso equal her in beauty, wit, or liveliness, that is so famous in the Mancha, and all the world over. Not too fast( then said I) signor Don Montesinos, on with your story as befits; for you know, all comparisons are odious, and so leave your comparing, the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso is what she is, and the Lady Belerma is what she is and hath been; and let this suffice.  
To which he answered, Pardon me signor Don Quixote, for I confess I did ill, and not well to say, the Lady Dulcinea would scarce equal the Lady Belerma, since it had been sufficient, that I understood( I know not by what aim) that you are her Knight, enough to haue made me bite my tongue, before I had compared her with any thing but heaven itself. With this satisfaction that Montesinos gave me, my heart was free from that sudden passion I had, to hear my mistress compared to Belerma.  
And I marvell( said Sancho) that you got not to the old carl and banged his bones, and pulled his beard, without leaving him a hair in it.  
No, friend Sancho, said he, it was not fit for me to do so; for wee are all bound to reverence our Elders, although they be no Knights, and most of all when they are so, and are enchanted. I know well enough, I was not behinde-hand with him in other questions and answers that passed between vs. Then said the scholar, I know not, signor Don Quixote, how you in so little time( as it is since you went down) haue seen so many things, and spoken& answered so much. How long is it( quoth he) since I went down? A little more then an hour( said Sancho.) That cannot be( replied Don Quixote) because it was morning and evening, and evening and morning three times; so that by my account, I haue been three daies in those parts so remote and hidden from our sight. Surely, my Master( quoth Sancho) is in the right; for as all things that befall him are by way of enchantment; so perhaps, that which appears to us but an hour, is to him there, three nights and three dayes. He hath hit it( said Don Quixote.) And haue you eat, Sir, in all this time( quoth the scholar?) Not a bit( quoth Don Quixote) neither haue I been hungry, or so much as thought of eating. And the enchanted, eat they, said the scholar? No, said he, neither are they troubled with your greater excrements, although it be probable that their nailes, their beards, and their hairs grow. Sleep they haply, said Sancho? No indeed, said Don Quixote, at least these three daies that I haue been with them, not one of them hath closed his eyes, nor I neither. That fits the proverb, quoth Sancho, which says, You shall know the person by his company: you haue been amongst the enchanted, and those that watch& fast: no mauell therefore though you neither slept nor eat whilst you were amongst them; but pray, Sir, pardon me, if I say, God( or the devill I was about to say) take me, if I beleeue a word of all this you haue spoken. Why not, said the scholar? do you think signor Don Quixote would lie to us, for though he would, he hath not had time to compose or invent such a million of lies? I do not beleeue( quoth Sancho) that my Master lies. But what do you beleeue then( quoth Don Quixote?) Mary I beleeue( said Sancho) that that Morlin, or those Enchanters that enchanted all that rabble, that you say you haue seen and conversed with there below, clapped into your apprehension or memory all this Machine that you haue  told us, and all that remaines yet to be  told. All this may be, Sancho, said Don Quixote, but 'tis otherwise; for what I haue  told, I saw with these eyes, and felt with these hands: but what wilt thou say when I shall tell thee, that, amongst infinite other matters and wonders, that Montesinos shewed me, which at more leisure, and at fitting time in process of our journey I shall tell thee: He shewed me three Country wenches, that went leaping and frisking up and down those pleasant fields like Goats, and I scarce saw them, when I perceived the one was the peerless Dulcinea, and the other two the selfsame that wee spoken to when we left Toboso. I asked Montesinos whether he knew them: who answered me, Not: but that sure they were some Ladies of quality there enchanted, that but lately appeared in those fields, and that it was no wonder; for that there were many others of former times& these present, that were enchanted in strange and different shapes, amongst whom he knew queen Guiniuer, and her woman Quintaniona filling Lansarotes cups when he came from britain.  
When Sancho heard his Master thus far, it made him stark mad, and ready to burst with laughter; for by reason that he knew the truth of Dulcinea's enchantment, as having been himself the Enchanter, and the raiser of that tale, he did undoubtedly ratify his belief, that his Master was mad and out of his wittes; and so  told him: In an ill time, and dismal day( Patron mine) went you down into the other world, and at an ill season met you with signor Montesinos, that hath returned you in this pickle: you were well enough here above, in your right sences as God hath given them you, uttering sentences,& giuing good counsel every foot, and not as now telling the greatest vnlikelihoods that can be imagined.  
Because I know thee, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) I make no account of thy words. Nor I of yours, said he: you may strike or kill me if you will, either for those I haue spoken, or those I mean to speak, if you do not correct and amend yourself. But pray tell me, Sir, whilst we are quiet, how knew you it was our Mistris? spoken you to her? what said shee, and what answered you? I knew her, said Don Quixote, by the same clothes she had on at such time as thou shewd'st her me: I spoken to her, but she gave me not a word, but turned her back, and scudded away so fast, that a flight would not haue overtaken her: I meant to haue followed her, and had done it, but that Montesinos  told me it was in vain, and the rather, because it was now high time for me to return out of the cave. He  told me likewise, that in process of time, he would let me know the means of dis-enchanting Durandarte, and Belerma& himself; together with all the rest that were there: But that which most grieved me, was; that whilst I was thus talking with Montesinos, one of the unfortunate Dulcinea's companions came on one side of me( I not perceiving it) and with tears in her eyes, and hollow voice said to me; My Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso commends her to you, and desires to know how you do: and withall, because she is in great necessity, she desires you with all earnestness, that you would be pleased to lend her three shillings vpon this new Cotton petticoat that I bring you, or what you can spare; for she will pay you again very shortly. This message held me in suspense and admiration: so that turning to signor Montesinos, I asked him, Is it possible, signor, that those of your better sort that be enchanted are in want? To which he answered, Beleeue me, signor Don Quixote, this necessity rangeth and extends itself every where, and ouertakes all men, neither spares shee the Enchanted; and therefore since the Lady Dulcinea demands these three shillings of you, and that the pawn seems to bee good, lend them her, for sure shee is much straightened. I will take no pawn( quoth I) neither can I lend what shee requires, for I haue but two shillings: these I gave, which were the same, Sancho, that thou gavest me tother day, to give for alms to the poor that we met: and I  told the maid, Friend, tell your Mistris that I am sorry with al my heart for her commandments,& I would I were a Fucar to relieve them; and let her know, that I neither 
Fucares, were a rich family,& name in Germany that maintained a bank of moneys in Spain,& still used to furnish Philip the 2. with moneys in his warres.  can, nor may haue health, misrepresenting her pleasing company, and discreet conversation, and that I desire her, as earnestly as may be, that this her captive Seruant and Way-beaten Knight may see and treat with her.  
You shall also say, that when she least thinks of it, shee shall hear say, that I haue made an oath and vow, such as was the Marquis his of Mantua, to reuenge his nephew Baldwine; when he found him ready to give up the ghost in the midst of the mountain; which was, not to eat his meat with napkins, and other Flim-flams added thereunto, till he had revenged his death: And so swear I, not to be quiet, till I haue traveled all the seven partitions of the world, more punctually then Prince Don Manuel of Portugall, till I haue dis-enchanted her. All this and more you owe to my mistress, said the damosel; and taking the two shillings, in stead of making me a courtesy, she fetched a caper two yards high in the air.  
Blessed God! ( Sancho cried out)& is it possible that Enchanters and Enchantments should so much prevail vpon him, as to turn his right understanding into such a wild madness? Sir, Sir, for Gods love haue a care of yourself,& look to your credit: beleeue not in these bubbles that haue lessened and crazed your wits. Out of thy love, Sancho, thou speakest this( said Don Quixote) and for want of experience in the world, all things that haue never so little difficulty seem to thee to be impossible: but time will come( as I haue  told thee already) that I shall relate some things that I haue seen before, which may make thee beleeue what I haue said, which admits no reply, or controversy.   

CHAP. XXIIII.  
Where are recounted a thousand flim-flams, as impertinent, as necessary to the understanding of this famous History.  
THe Translator of this famous History out of his original, written by Cid Hamete Benengeli, says; That when he came to the last chapter going before, these words were written in the Margin by the same Hamete. I cannot deleeue or be persuaded, that all that is written in the antecedent Chapter happened so punctually to the valorous Don Quixote: the reason is, because all adventures hitherto haue been accidental and probable; but this of the cave, I see no likelihood of the truth of it, as being so vn-reasonable: Yet to think Don Quixote would lie, being the worthiest Gentleman, and noblest Knight of his time, is not possible; for he would not lie, though he were shot to death with arrows. On the other side I consider, that he related it, with all the aforesaid circumstances, and that in so short a time, he could not frame such a Machina of fopperies, and if this adventure seem to be Apocrypha, the fault is not mine: so that leaving it indifferent, I here set it down. Thou, Oh Reader, as thou art wise, judge as thou thinkest good; for I can do no more, though one thing be certain, that when he was vpon his death-bed, he disclaimed this adventure, and said, That he had onely invented it, because it suited with such as he had red of in his Histories: so he proceeds, saying:  
The scholar wondered, as well at Sancho's boldness, as his Masters patience, but he thought, that by reason of the ioy that he received in having seen his mistress Dulcinea( though enchanted) that softness of condition grew vpon him; for had it been otherwise, Sancho spoken words that might haue grinded him to powder: for in his opinion he was somewhat saucy with his Master, to whom he said:  
signor Don Quixote, I think the journey that I haue made with you, very well employed, because in it I haue stored up four things. The first is, the having known yourself, which I esteem as a great happiness. The second, to haue known the secrets of this Montesinos cave, with the transformations of Guadiana and Ruydera's Lakes, which may help me in my Spanish ovid I haue in hand. The third is, to know the Antiquity of Card-playing, which was used at least in time of the Emperor Charles the Great, as may be collected out of the words you say Durandarte used, when after a long speech between him and Montesinos, he awakened saying; Patience, and shuffle: and this kind of speaking, he could not learn when he was enchanted; but when he lived in France, in time of the aforesaid Emperor: and this observation comes in pudding time for the other book that I am making, which is, My supply to Polydore Vergil, in the invention of Antiquities, and I beleeue, in his he left out Cards, which I will put in, as a matter of great importance, especially having so authentic an author as signor Durandarte. The fourth is, to haue known for a certain the true spring of the river Guadiana, which hath hitherto been concealed.  
You haue reason( said Don Quixote:) but I would fain know of you, now that it pleased God to give you abilities to print your books, To whom will you direct them? You haue Lords and 
A name given to men of title, as Dukes, Marquisses, or earls in spain, whose onely privilege is to stand covered before the King.  Grandes in spain( said the scholar) to whom I may direct them. Few of them( said Don Quixote) not because they do not deserve the dedications, but because they will not admit of them, not to oblige themselves to the satisfaction, that is due to the Authors pains and courtesy. One Prince I know, that may supply the deserts of the rest, with such advantage, that should I speak of it, it might stir up envy in some noble breasts: but let this rest till some fit time, and let us look out where we may lodge too night.  
Not far from hence( said the scholar) there is a Hermitage, where dwells a Hermit, that they say hath been a soldier, and is thought to bee a good Christian, and very discreet, and charitable. Besides the Hermitage, he hath a little house, which he hath built at his own charge, yet though it be little, it is fit to receive guests. Hath he any Hens, trow( said Sancho?) Few Hermits are without vm( quoth Don Quixote:) for your Hermits now adays, are not like those that lived in the deserts of egypt, that were clad in Palme-leaues, and lived vpon the roots of the earth: but mistake me not, that because I speak well of them, I should speak ill of these, onely the penitency of these times comes not near those: yet for ought I know, all are good, at least I think so, and if the worst come to the worst, your Hypocrite that feigns himself good, doth less hurt then he that sins in public.  
As they were thus talking, they might spy a Foot-man coming towards them, going apace, and beating with his wand a Hee-Mule laden with launces and Halberds; when he came near them, he saluted them, and passed on: but Don Quixote said to him; Honest fellow, stay, for me thinks you make your Mule go faster then needs. I cannot stay, Sir( said he) because these weapons that you see I carry, must bee used to morrow morning: so I must needs go on my way, Farewell: But if you will know why I carry them, I shall lodge to night in the 
Ventes, Places in spain, in barren unpeopled parts for lodging, like our beggarly Alehouses vpon the highways.  vent above the Hermitage, and if you go that way, there you shall haue me, and I will tell you wonders: and so once more, Farewell. So the Mule pricked on so fast, that Don Quixote had no leisure to ask him, what wonders they were; and as he was curious, and always desirous of novelties, he took order that they should presently go and pass that night in the Vente, without touching at the Hermitage, where the scholar would haue stayed that night.  
So all three of them mounted, went toward the Vente, whither they reached somewhat before it grew dark, and the scholar invited Don Quixote to drink a sup by the way at the Hermitage: which as soon as Sancho heard, he made hast with Dapple, as did Don Quixote and the scholar likewise: but as Sancho's ill lucke would haue it, the Hermit was not at home, as was  told them by the Vnder-Hermit: they asked him whether he had any of the dearer sort of wine? who answered, His Master had none: but if they would haue any cheap water, he would give it them with a good will. If my thirst would bee quenched with water, wee might haue had Wels to drink at by the way. Ah Camacho's marriage, and Don Diego's plenty, how oft shall I miss you? Now they left the Hermitage, and spurred toward the vent, and a little before them, they overtook a Youth, that went not very fast before them; so they overtook him: he had a sword vpon his shoulder, and vpon it, as it seemed, a bundle of clothes, as breeches, and cloak, and a shirt; for he wore a velvet jerkin, that had some kind of remainder of satin, and his shirt hung out, his stockings were of silk, and his shoes square at to, after the Court-fashion, he was about eighteen yeeres of age, and active of body to see to: to pass the tediousness of the way, he went singing short pieces of songs, and as they came near him, he made an end of one, which the scholar( they say learnt by heart) and it was this:  
To the warres I go for necessity,  
At home would I tarry, if I had money.  
Don Quixote was the first that spoken to him, saying; You go very naked, Sir Gallant. And whither, a Gods name? Let's know, if it be your pleasure to tell us? To which the Youth answered, Heat and poverty are the causes that I walk so light, and my journey is to the wars. Why for poverty( quoth Don Quixote?) for heat it may well be. Sir( said the Youth) I carry in this bundle a pair of slops, fellowes to this Ierken, if I wear vm by the way, I shall do myself no credit with them when I come to any town, and I haue no money to buy others with, so as well for this, as to air myself, I go till I can overtake certain companies of Foot, which are not above twelve leagues from hence, where I shall get me a place, and shall not want carriages to travell in, till I come to our embarking place, which( they say) must be in Cartagena, and I had rather haue the King to my Master, and serve him, then a beggarly Courtier. And haue you any extraordinary pay, said the scholar?  
Had I served any Grande, or man of quality( said the Youth) no doubt I should; for that comes by your serving good Masters, that out of the Scullery men come to bee Lieutenants or Captaines, or to haue some good pay: but I always had the ill lucke to serve your Shag-rags and Vp-starts, whose allowance was so bare and short, that one half of it still was spent in starching me a ruff, and it is a miracle, that one venturing page. amongst an hundred, should ever get any reasonable fortune. But tell me, Friend( quoth Don Quixote) Is it possible, that in all the time you served, you never got a livery? Two( said the page.:) But as he that goes out of a Monastery, before he professeth, hath his habit taken from him, and his clothes given him back: so my Masters returned me mine, when they had ended their businesses, for which they came to the Court for, and returned to their own homes,& with-held their liveries, which they had onely shewed for ostentation.  
A notable 
●… llionry.  Espilocherio, as saith your Italian( quoth Don Quixote) for all that, think yourself happy that you are come from the Court, with so good an intention, for there is nothing in the world better, nor more profitable, then to serve God first, and next, your Prince and natural Master, especially in the practise of arms, by which, if not more wealth, yet at least, more honour is obtained, then by Learning, as I haue said many times, that though Learning hath raised more houses then arms, yet your Sword-men haue a kind of( I know not what) advantage above Schollers, with a kind of splendour, that doth advantage them over all.  
And bear in your mind what I shall now tell you, which shall be much for your good, and much lighten you in your travels, that is, not to think vpon adversity; for the worst that can come is death, which if it be a good death, the best fortune of all is to die. Iulius Caesar, that brave roman Emperour, being asked, Which was the best death? answered, A sudden one& unthought of; and though he answered like a gentle, and void of the knowledge of the true God, yet he said well, to save human feeling a labour; for say you should bee slain in the first skirmish, either with a cannon-shot, or blown up with a Mine, What matter is it? All is but dying, and there's an end: And as Terence says, A soldier slain in the field, shows better, then alive and safe in flight; and so much the more famous is a good soldier, by how much he obeys his Captaines, and those that may command him; and mark, child, it is better for a soldier to smell of his gun-powder, then of civet; and when old age comes vpon you in this honourable exercise, though you be full of scars, maimed, or lame, at least, you shall not be without honour, which poverty cannot diminish; and besides, there is order taken now, that old and maimed Souldiers may be relieved; neither are they dealt withall 
He describes the right subtle and cruel nature of his damned Country-men.  like those mens Negars, that when they are old and can do their Masters no service, they( under colour of making them free) turn them out of doors, and make them slaves to hunger, from which nothing can free them but death, and for this time I will say no more to you, but onely get up behind me till you come to the vent, and there you shall sup with me, and to morrow take your journey, which God speed, as your desires deserve.  
The page. accepted not of his inuitement, to ride behind him; but for the supper he did: And at this season( they say) Sancho said to himself; Lord defend thee, Master; And is it possible, that a man that knows to speak such, so many, and so good things( as he hath said here) should say he hath seen such impossible fooleries, as he hath  told us of Montesino's cave. Well, wee shall see what will become of it. And by this they came to the Vente just as it was night, for which Sancho was glad, because too his Master took it to be a true vent, and not a Castle, as he was wont. They were no sooner entred, when Don Quixote asked the 
Ventero, the Master of the vent.  venture for the man with the launces and Halberds, who answered him, he was in the stable looking to his moil: Sancho and the scholar did the same to their Asses, giuing Don Quixotes Rozinante the best manger and room in the stable.   

CHAP. XXV.  
Of the adventure of the Braying, and the merry one of the Puppet-man, with the memorable soothsaying of the prophesying Ape.  
DON Quixote stood vpon thorns, till he might hear and know the promised wonders, of the man that carried the arms, and went where the venture had told him, to seek him; where finding him, he said; That by all means he must tell him presently, what he had promised him vpon the way. The man answered him, The story of the wonders requires more leisure, and must not bee  told thus standing: good Sir let me make an end of prouandring my Beast, and I will tell you things that shall admire you.  
Let not that hinder you( quoth Don Quixote) for Ile help you: and so he did, sifting his barley, and cleansing the manger( a humility that obliged the fellow to tell him his tale hearty:) thus sitting down vpon a bench, Don Quixote by him, with the scholar, page., and Sancho, and the venture, for his complete Senate and Auditory, he began:  
You shall understand, that in a town, some four leagues and an half from this vent, it fell out, that an Alderman there, by a trick and wile of a wench, his mayd-seruant( which were long to tell how) lost his ass, and though the said Alderman used all manner of diligence to find him, it was impossible. His ass was wanting( as the public voice and famed goeth) fifteen dayes: when the Alderman that lost him, being in the marketplace, another Alderman of the same town  told him; Pay me for my news, Gossip, for your ass is forthcoming. I will willingly, Gossip( said the other) but let me know where he is? This morning( said the Second) I saw him vpon the mountaines without his pack-saddle, or any other furniture, so lean, that it was pitty to see him, I would haue gotten him before me, and haue driven him to you, but he is so mountainous and wild, that when I made towards him, he flew from me, and got into the thickest of the wood: If you please, wee will both return and seek him, let me first put up this ass at home, and Ile come by and by. You shall do me a great kindness( quoth he) and I will repay you( if need be) in the like kind.  
With all these circumstances, just as I tell you, all that know the truth, relate it: In fine, the two Aldermen, afoot and hand to hand, went to the hills, and coming to the place where they thought to find the ass, they missed of him, neither could they find him, for all their seeking round-about. Seeing then there was no appearance of him, the Alderman that had seen him, said to the other; hark you, Gossip, I haue a trick in my head, with which we shall find out this Beast, though he bee hidden under ground, much more if in the mountain: Thus it is, I can bray excellent well, and so can you a little: well, tis a match. A little, Gossip( quoth the other) Verily, Ile take no odds of any body, nor of an ass himself. We shall see then( said the second Alderman) for my plot is, that you go on one side of the hill, and I on the other, so that wee may compass it round, now and then you shall bray, and so will I, and it cannot bee, but that your ass will answer one of us, if he bee in the mountain.  
To this the owner of the ass answered; I tell you, Gossip, the device is rare, and worthy your great wit: so dividing themselves( according to the agreement) it fell out, that just at one instant both brayed, and each of them coozened with the others braying, came to look another, thinking now there had been news of the ass: And as they met, the loser said; Is it possible, Gossip, that it was not mine ass that brayed? No, twas I, said the other. Then( replied the Owner) Gossip, between you and an ass there is no difference, touching your braying; for in my life I never heard a thing more natural.  
These praises and extollings( said the other) do more properly belong to you then me, for truly you may give two to one, to the best and skilfullest Brayer in the world; for your sound is lofty, you keep very good time, and your cadences thick and sudden: To conclude, I yield myself vanquished, and give you the prise and glory of this rare ability. Well( said the Owner) I shall like myself the better for this hereafter, and shall think I know something, since I haue gotten a quality, for though I ever thought I brayed well, yet I never thought I was so excellent at it, as you say.  
Let me tell you( said the other) there bee rare abilities in the world, that are lost and ill-imployed, in those that will not good themselves with them. Ours( quoth the Owner) can do us no good, but in such businesses as wee haue now in hand, and pray God in this they may.  
This said, they divided themselves again, and returned to their braying, and every foot they were deceived, and met; till they agreed vpon a counter-signe, that to know twas themselves, and not the ass, they should bray twice together: so that with this doubling their brays, every stitch-while they compassed the hill, the lost ass not answering so much, as by the least sign; but how could the poor and ill-thriuing Beast answer, when they found him in the Thicket eaten with wolves? And his Owner seeing him, said; I marveled he did not answer; for if he had not been dead, he would haue brayed, if he had heard us, or else he had been no ass: but i'faith, Gossip, since I haue heard your delicate braying, I think my pains well bestowed in looking this ass, though I haue found him dead.  

En buenna mano esta. Alluding to two, that strive to make one another drink first.  Tis in a very good hand, Gossip( said the other:) And if the Abbot sing well, 
The one as very an ass as the other.  the little monk comes not behind him. With this, all comfortless and hoarse, home they went, where they  told their Friends, Neighbours, and Acquaintances, what had happened in the search for the ass, the one exaggerating the others cunning in braying; all which was known and spread abroad in the neighbouring towns: And the devill, that always watcheth how he may sow& scatter quarrels and discord every where, raising brabbles in the air, and making great chimaeras of nothing, made the people of other towns, that when they saw any of ours, they should bray, as hitting us in the teeth with our Aldermens braying.  
The Boyes at length fell to it, which was, as if it had fallen into the jaws of all the devils in Hell, so this braying spread itself from one town to the other, that they which are born in our town, are as well known as the beggar knows his dish; and this unfortunate scoff hath proceeded so far, that many times those that were scoffed at, haue gone out armed in a whole Squadron, to give battle to the Scoffers, without fear or wit, neither King nor Keisar being able to prevent them: I beleeue, that to morrow or next day, those of my town will be in field( to wit, the Brayers) against the next town, which is two leagues off, one of them that doth most persecute us; and because we might be well provided, I haue bought those Halberds and launces, that you saw. And these be the wonders, that I said I would tell you of: and if these bee not so, I know not what may.  
And here the poor fellow ended his discourse: and now there entred at the door of the vent, one clad all in Chamois, in hose and doublet, and called aloud; Mine host, haue you any lodging? for here comes the prophesying Ape, and the Motion of Melisendra. Body of me( quoth the venture) here is Master Peter, we shall haue a brave night of it( I had forgot to tell how this Master Peter had his left eye, and half his cheek, covered with a patch of green Taffata, a sign that all that side was sore:) so the venture proceeded, saying; You are welcome, Master Peter, Where's the Ape and the Motion, that I see vm not? They are not far off( quoth the Chamois-man) onely I am come before, to know if you haue any lodging?  
I would make bold with the Duke of Alua himself( said the Venter) rather then Master Peter should bee disappointed: let your Ape and your Motion come; for wee haue guests here to night, that will pay for seeing that, and the Apes abilities. In good time( said he of the Patch) for I will moderate the price, so my charges this night be paid for; and therefore I will cause the Cart where they are, to drive on: with this he went out of the vent again. Don Quixote strait asked the venture, What Master Peter that was, and what Motion or Ape those he brought?  
To which the venture answered; He is a famous Puppet-Master, that this long time hath gone up& down these parts of arragon, showing this motion of Melisendra,& Don Gayferos, one of the best histories that hath been represented these many yeeres in this kingdom. Besides, he hath an Ape, the strangest that ever was; for if you ask him any thing, he marketh what you ask, and gets up vpon his Masters shoulder, and tells him in his ear by way of answer, what he was asked: which Master Peter declares: he tells things to come, as well as things past, and though he do not always hit vpon the right, yet he seldom errs, and makes us beleeue the devill is in him. twelve pence for every answer we give, if the Ape do answer, I mean, if his Master answer for him, after he hath whispered in his ear; so it is thought that Master Peter is very rich, he is a notable fellow,&( as your Italian saith) a boon companion; hath the best life in the world, talks his share for six men, and drinks for a dozen, all at his Tongues charge, his Motion, and his Apes.  
By this, Master Peter was return'd, and his Motion and Ape came in a small carriage; his Ape was of a good bigness, without a tail,& his bumme as bare as a Felt, but not very ill-favoured. Don Quixote scarce beholded him, when he demanded, Master Prophesier, What fish do we catch? Tell us what will become of us, and here is twelue-pence, which he commanded Sancho to give Master Peter; who answered for the Ape and said: Sir, this beast answers not, nor gives any notice of things to come, of things past he knows something, and likewise a little of things present. Zwookers( quoth Sancho) Ile not give a farthing to know what is past: for who can tell that better then myself? and to pay for what I know, is most foolish: but since you say he knows things present, here's my twelue-pence, and let good-man Ape tell me what my wife Teresa Pansa doth, and in what shee busies herself. Master Peter would not take his money, saying; I will not take your reward before-hand, till the Ape hath first done his duty: so giuing a clap or two with his right hand on his left shoulder, at one frisk the Ape got up, and laying his mouth to his ear, grated his teeth apace, and having shewed this feat the space of a Creeds saying, at another frisk he leaped to the ground, and instantly Master Peter very hastily ran and kneeled down before Don Quixote,& embracing his legs, said: These legs I embrace, as if they were Hercules Pillars. O famous reuiuer of the long-forgotten Knight Errantry! Oh never sufficiently extolled Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha! raiser of the faint-hearted, pro[er of those that fall, the staff& comfort of all the unfortunate! Don Quixote was amazed, Sancho confused, the scholar in suspense, the page. astonished, the Bray townes-man all in a gaze, the venture at his wits end, and all admiring that heard the Puppet-mans speech, who went on, saying:  
And thou honest Sancho Pansa, the best Squire to the best Knight of the world, rejoice, for thy wife Teresa is a good hous-wife, and at this time she is dressing a pound of flax; by the same token shee hath a good broken-mouth'd pot at her left side, that holds a pretty scantling of wine, with which she easeth her labour.  
I beleeue that very well( said Sancho) for she is a good soul; and if she were not jealous, I would not change her for the Gyantesse Andandona, that, as my Master says, was a woman for the nonce: and my Teresa is one of those that will not pine herself, though her heirs smart for it.  
Well, I say now( quoth Don Quixote) he that reads much, and travels much, sees much, and knows much. This I say, for who in the world could haue persuaded me that Apes could prophesy? which now I haue seen with mine own eyes; for I am the same Don Quixote that this beast speaks of, although he haue been somewhat too liberal in my praise: but howsoever I am, I give God thanks that he hath made me so relenting and compassionate; always inclined to do good to all,& hurt to no man.  
If I had money( said the page.) I would ask Mr. Ape what should befall me in the peregrination I haue in hand. To which Master Peter answered, that was now risen from Don Quixotes foot, I haue  told you once that this little beast foretells not things to come; for if he could, twere no matter for your money: for here is signor Don Quixote present, for whose sake I would foregoe all the Interest in the world: and to show my duty to him, and to give him delight, I will set up my Motion, and freely show all the company in the Vent some pastime gratis. Which the venture hearing, unmeasurably glad, pointed him to a place where he might set it up; which was done in an instant.  
Don Quixote liked not the Apes prophesying very well, holding it to be frivolous, that an Ape should onely tell things present,& not past, or to come. So whilst Master Peter was fitting his Motion, Don Quixote took Sancho with him to a corner of the stable, and in private said:  
look thee, Sancho, I haue very well considered of this Apes strange quality, and find that this Master Peter hath made a secret express compact with the devill, to infuse this ability into the Ape, that he may get his living by it, and when he is rich, he will give him his soul; which is that, that this universal enemy of mankind pretends: and that which induceth me to this belief, is, that the Ape answers not to things past, but onely present; and the devils knowledge attains to no more; for things to come he knows not, only by conjecture: for God alone can distinguish the times and moments, and to him nothing is past or to come, but all is present: Which being so, it is most certain that this Ape speaks by instinct from the devill, and I wonder he hath not been accused to the Inquisition, and examined, and that it hath not been pressed out of him, to know by what virtue this Ape prophesyeth; for certainly, neither he nor his Ape are Astrologers, nor know how to cast figures, which they call judiciary, so much used in spain: for you haue no paltry Woman, nor page., nor cobbler, that presumes not to cast a figure, as if it were one of the knaves at Cards vpon a table, falsifying that wondrous Science with their ignorant lying.  
I knew a Gentlewoman that asked one of these Figure-flingers, if a little foysting-hound of hers should haue any puppies, and if it had, how many, and of what colour the whelps should be. To which my cunning man( after he had cast his figure) answered: That the bitch should haue young, and bring forth three little whelps, the one green, the other Carnation, and the third of a mixed colour, with this proviso, that she should take the dog between eleven and twelve of the clock at noon, or at night, which should be on the monday, or the Saturday; and the success was, that some two dayes after the bitch died of a surfet, and Master figure-raiser was reputed in the town a most perfect judiciary, as all, or the greatest part of such men are. For all that( said Sancho) I would you would bid Master Peter ask his Ape, whether all were true that befell you in Montesino's cave; for I think( under correction) all was cogging and lying, or at least but a dream. All might be( said Don Quixote) yet I will do as thou dost aduize me, though I haue one scruple remaining.  
whilst they were thus communing, Master Peter came to call Don Quixote, and to tell him that the Motion was now up, if he would please to see it, which would give him content.  
Don Quixote  told him his desire, and wished that his Ape might tell him, if certain things that befell him in Montesino's cave were true, or but dreams; for himself was uncertain whether. Master Peter, without answering a word, fetched his Ape, and putting him before Don Quixote and Sancho, said, look you, Master Ape, signor Don Quixote would haue you tell him, whether certain things that happened to him in Montesino's cave were true or false? and making the accustomend sign, the Ape whipped vpon his left shoulder, and seeming to speak to him in his ear, Master Peter strait interpnted. The Ape, signor, says that part of those things are false, and part of them true, and this is all he knows touching this demand; and now his virtue is gone from him, and if you will know any more, you must expect till Friday next, and then he will answer you all you will ask, for his virtue will not return till then.  
Law ye there( quoth Sancho) did not I tell you that I could not beleeue that all you said of Montesinos cave could hold currant? The success hereafter will determine that( quoth Don Quixote) for time, the discoverer of al things, brings every thing to the suins light, though it be hidden in the bosom of the earth: and now let this suffice, and let us go see the Motion; for I beleeue we shall haue some strange novelty. Some strange one, quoth Master Peter? this Motion of mine hath a thousand strange ones: I tell you signor, it is one of the rarest things to be seen in the world; operibus credite& non verbis: and now to work, for it is late, and we haue much to do, say, and show.  
Don Quixote and Sancho obeied, and went where the Motion was set and opened, all full of little wax lights, that made it most sightly and glorious. Master Peter strait clapped himself within it, who was he that was to manage the artificial Puppets, and without stood his boy to interpret and declare the mysteries of the Motion; in his hand he had a white wand, with which he pointed out the several shapes that came in and out. Thus all that were in the vent being placed,& some standing ouer-against the Motion, Don Quixote, Sancho, the scholar and the page., placed in the best seats, 
El Truxaman. An Interpreter amongst the Turks, but here taken for any in general.  the Trudge-man began to speak what shall be heard or seen, by him that shall hear or red the next Chapter.   

CHAP. XXVI.  
Of the delightful passage of the Puppet-play, and other pleasant matters.  
here Tyrians and trojans were all silent, I mean, all the spectators of the Motion had their ears hanged vpon the Interpreters mouth, that should declare the wonders; by and by there was a great sound of Kettle Drums, and Trumpets, and a volley of great shot within the Motion, which passing away briefly, the boy began to raise his voice, and to say:  
This true History which is here represented to you, is taken word for word out of the French Chronicles, and the Spanish Romants, which are in every bodies mouth, and sung by boyes up and down the streets. It treats of the liberty that signor Don Gayferos gave to Melisendra his wife, that was imprisoned by the Moores in spain, in the City of Sansuena, which was then so called, and now Saragosa; and look you there, how Don Gayferos is playing at Tables, according to the song;  
Now Don Gayferos at Tables doth play,  
unmindful of Melisendra away.  
And that parsonage that peeps out there with a crown on his head, and a sceptre in his hand, is the Emperor charlemagne, the supposed father of the said Melisendra, who grieved with the sloth and neglect of his son in law, comes to chide him: and mark with what vehemency and earnestness he rates him, as if he meant to give him half a dozen Connes with his sceptre. Some Authors there bee that say, he did, and sound ones too: and after he had  told him many things concerning the danger of his reputation, if he did not free his Spouse, twas said he  told him, I haue said enough, look to it. look ye Sir, again, how the Emperor turns his back, and in what case he leaves Don Gayferos, who all enraged flings the Tables and the table-men from him, and hastily calls for his armor, and borrows his Cousin german Roldan his sword Durindana; who offers him his company in this difficult enterprise. But the valorous enraged Knight would not accept it, saying; That he is sufficient to free his Spouse, though she were put in the deep Centre of the earth: and now he goes in to arm himself for his journey.  
Now turn your eyes to yonder Tower that appears,( for you) must suppose it is one of the Towers of the Castle of Saragosa, which is now called the Aliaferia, and that Lady that appears in the window, clad in a Moorish habit, is the peerless Melisendra, that many a time looks toward France, thinking on Paris and her spouse, the onely comforts in her imprisonment. Behold also a strange accident now that happens, perhaps never the like seen: see you not that Moore that comes faire and softly, with his finger in his mouth, behind Melisendra? look what a smack he gives her in the midst of her lips, and how suddenly shee begins to spit, and to wipe them with her white smock sleeve, and how she laments, and for very anguish despiteously roots up her faire hairs, as if they were to blame for this wickedness. mark you also that grave Moore, that stands in that open Gallery, it is Marsilius King of Sansuenna, who when he saw the Moores sauciness, although he were a kins-man, and a great favourite of his, he commanded him strait to bee apprehended, and to haue two hundreth stripes given him, and to be carried thorough the chief streets in the City, with minstrels before, and rods of Iustice behind; and look ye how the sentence is put in execution before the fault bee scarce committed; for your Moores use not( as we do) any legal proceeding. child, child( cried Don Quixote aloud) on with your story in a direct line, and fall not into your crooks and your trans-uersals: for to verify a thing I tell you, there had need be a legal proceeding. Then Master Peter too said from within; Boy, fall not you to your flourishes, but do as that Gentleman commands you, which is the best course; sing you your plain song, and meddle not with the triple, lest the strings break. I will, Master( said the boy) and proceeded, saying:  
He that you see there( quoth he) on horseback, clad in a gascoigne cloak, is Don Gayferos himself, to whom his Wife( now revenged on the Moore for his boldness) shows herself from the battlements of the Castle, taking him to bee some passenger, with whom shee passed all the discourse mentioned in the Romant, that says;  
Friend, if toward France you go,  
ask if Gayferos be there or no. &c.  
The rest I omit, for all prolixity is irksome, tis sufficient that you see there how Don Gayferos discovers himself, and by Melisendra's jocund behaviour, we may imagine shee knows him, and the rather, because now we see, she lets herself down from a bay-window, to ride away behind her good Spouse: but alas, unhappy creature, one of the skirts of her kirtle hath caught vpon one of the iron bars of the window, and she houers in the air, without possibility of coming to the ground: but see how pitiful heauens relieve her in her greatest necessity; for Don Gayferos comes, and without any care of her rich Kirtle, lays hold of it, and forcibly brings her down with him, and at one hoist sets her astride vpon his horses crupper,& commands her to sit fast, and clap her arms about him, that shee fall not; for Melisendra was not used to that kind of riding. look you how the horse by his neighing shows that he is proud with the burden of his valiant Master, and faire mistress. Look how they turn their backs to the City, and merrily take their way toward Paris. Peace be with you, O peerless couple of true Louers, safely may you arrive at your desired Country, without Fortunes hindering your prosperous voyage: may your friends and kindred see you enjoy the rest of your yeeres( as many as Nestors) peaceably.  
here Master Peter cried out aloud again, saying; plainness, good boy, do not you soare so high, this affectation is scuruy. The Interpreter answered nothing, but went on, saying, There wanted not so me idle spectators that prie into every thing, who saw the going down of Melisendra, and gave Marsilius notice of it, who strait commanded to sound an alarm; and now behold, how fast the City even sinks again with the noise of bells that sound in the high Towers of the 
Mesquitas, Moorish Churches.  Mesquits.  
There you are out by( said Don Quixote) and Master Peter is very improper in his belles; for amongst Moores you haue no bells, but Kettle-drummes, and a kind of Shaulmes that bee like our Waytes, so that your sounding of bells in Sansuenna is a most idle foppery. Stand not vpon trifles, signor Don Quixote, said Master Peter, and so strictly vpon every thing, for we shall not know how to please you. Haue you not a thousand Comedies ordinarily represented, as full of incongruities and absurdities, and yet they run their career happily, and are heard, not only with applause, but great admiration also? On, boy, say on,& so I fill my purse, let there be as many improprieties as moats in the sun. You are the right( quoth Don Quixote) and the boy proceeded.  
look what a company of gallant Knights go out of the City in pursuit of the catholic Louers, how many Trumpets sound, how many Shaulmes play, how many drums& kettles make a noise, I fear me they will overtake them, and bring them back both bound to the same horses tail, which would be a horrible spectacle.  
Don Quixote seeing and hearing such a deal of Moorisme, and such a coil, he thought fit to succour those that fled: so standing up, with a loud voice he cried out; I will never consent while I live, that in my presence, such an outrage as this, bee offered to so valiant, and so amorous a bold Knight, as Don Gayferos: Stay, you base Scoundrels, do not ye follow or persecute him: if you do, you must first wage war with me: so doing and speaking, he unsheathed his sword, and at one frisk he got to the Motion, and with an unseen and posting fury, he began to rain stroke vpon the Puppetish Moorisme, overthrowing some, and beheading others, maiming this, and cutting in pieces that, and amongst many other blows, he fetched one so down right, that had not Mr. Peter tumbled and squatted down, he had clipped his mazzard as easily, as if it had been made of March-pane. Mr. Peter cried out, saying; Hold, signor Don Quixote, hold; and know that these you hurl down, destroy and kill, are not real Moores, but shapes made of paste-boord: look you, look ye now( wretch that I am) he spoils all, and undoes me. But for all this, Don Quixote still multiplied his slashes, doubling and redoubling his blows, as thick as hops.  
And in a word, in less then two Credo's, he cast down the whole Motion( all the tackling first cut to fitters, and all the Puppets) King Marsilius was sore wounded, and the Emperour charlemagne, his head and crown were partend in two places. the Senate and Auditors were all in a hurry, and the Ape got up to the top of the house, and so out at the window, the scholar was frighted, the page. clean dastarded, and even Sancho himself was in a terrible perplexity, for( as he swore after the storm was past) he never saw his Master so outrageous.  
The general ruin of the Motion thus performed, Don Quixote began to bee somewhat pacified, and said; Now would I haue all those here at this instant before me, that beleeue not, how profitable Knights errand are to the world; and had not I been now present, what( I marvell) would haue becomne of signor Don Gayferos, and the faire Melisendra? I warrant, ere this, those dogs would haue overtaken, and shewed them some foul play: when all is done, long live Knight Errantry, above all things living in the world.  
Long live it on Gods name( said Mr. Peter) again with a pitiful voice, and may I die, since I live to be so unhappy, as to say with King 
Don Rodrigo was the last King of the Goths, that reigned in spain, conquered by the Moores.  Don Rodrigo, Yesterday I was Lord of all spain, but to day haue not a Battlement I can call mine: Tis not yet half an hour, scarce half a minute, that I was Master of Kings and Emperours, had my stables, coffers, and bags full of horses and treasure: but now I am desolate, dejected and poor, and to add more affliction, without my Ape, that before I can catch him again, I am like to sweat for it, and all through the unconsiderate furies of this Sir Knight, who is said to protect the fatherless, to rectify wrongs, and to do other charitable works; but to me onely, this his generous intention hath been defective, I thank God for it. In fine, it could bee none but The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, that discountenanced me and mine. Sancho grew compassionate to hear Master Peters lamentation, and said; weep not, nor grieve, Master Peter, for thou breakest my heart; and let me tell thee, that my Master, Don Quixote, is so scrupulous and Catholicall a Christian, that if he fall into the reckoning, that he haue done thee any wrong, he knows how, and will satisfy it with much advantage. If( said Master Peter) signor Don Quixote would but pay me for some part of the Pieces that he hath spoyled, I should bee contented, and his Worship might not bee troubled in conscience: for he that keeps that, that is another mans, against the Owners will, and restores it not, can hardly be saved.  
That's true( quoth Don Quixote:) But hitherto, Master Peter, I know not whether I haue detained ought of yours. No? not, said Master Peter? why these poor relics that lye vpon the hard and barren earth, who scattered and amnihilated them, but the invincible force of that powerful arm? And whose were those bodies, but mine? And with whom did I maintain my self, but with them? Well, I now( said Don Quixote) verily beleeue, what I haue done often, that the Enchanters that persecute me, do nothing but put shapes really, as they are before mine eyes, and by and by truck and change them at their pleasures. Verily, my Masters, you that hear me, I tell you, all that here passed, seemed to me to be really so, and immediately that that Melisendra was Melisendra; Don Gayferos, Don Gayferos; and Marsilius, Marsilius; and charlemagne, charlemagne: And this was it that stirred up my choler; and to accomplish my Profession of Knight errand, my meaning was to succour those that fled, and to this good purpose I did all that you haue seen, which if it fell out unluckily, twas no fault of mine, but of my wicked persecutors: yet for all this error( though it proceeded from no malice of mine) I myself will condemn myself in the charge; let Master Peter see what he will haue for the spoyled pieces, and I will pay it all in present currant coin of Castile.  
Master Peter made him a low leg, saying; I could expect no less from the unheard of Christianity of the most valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha, the true Succourer and bulwark of all those that be in need and necessity, or wandring Vagamundes, and now let the Venter and the Grand Sancho bee Arbitratours, and Price-setters between your Worship and me, and let them say what every torn piece was worth. The Venter and Sancho both agreed: and by and by Mr. Peter reached up Marsilius King of Saragosa headless, and said; You see how impossible it is for this Prince to return to his first being, and therefore, siuing your better judgements, I think fit to haue for him two shillings and three pence.  
On then, quoth Don Quixote. Then for this( quoth Master Peter) that is partend from head to foot, taking the Emperour charlemagne up, I think two shillings seuen-pence halfpenny is little enough. Not very little, quoth Sancho. Nor much( said the venture:) but moderate the bargain, and let him haue half a crown. Let him haue his full asking( said Don Quixote) for, for such a mishap as this, wee'l nere stand vpon three halfe-pence more or less; and make an end quickly, Master Peter, for it is near supper-time, and I haue certain suspicions that I shall eat. For this Puppet( said Mr. Peter) without a nose, and an eye wanting, of the faire Melisendra, I ask, but in Iustice fourteen pence halfpenny.  
Nay, the devil's in it( said Don Quixote) if Melisendra bee not now in France, or vpon the borders, at least, with her Husband; for the horse they road on, to my seeming, rather flew then ran; and therefore sell not me a Cat for a Coney, presenting me here Melisendra nose-lesse, when shee( if the time require it) is wantonly solacing with her Husband in France: God give each man his own, Mr. Peter, let us haue plain dealing; and so proceed. Master Peter, that saw Don Quixote in a wrong vain, and that he returned to his old theme, thought yet he should not escape him, and so replied; indeed this should not be Melisendra, now I think on't; but some one of the Damozels that served her, so that five pence for her will content me.  
Thus he went on prising of other torn Puppets, which the Arbitrating Iudges moderated to the satisfaction of both parties, and the whole prices of all were, twenty one shillings and eleven pence, which when Sancho had disbursed, Master Peter demanded over and above twelue-pence for his labour, to look the Ape. give it him, Sancho( said Don Quixote) not to catch his Ape, 
As we say, To catch a Fox.  but a Monkey, and I would give five pound for a reward, to any body that would certainly tell me, that the Lady Melisendra and Don Gayferos were safely arrived in France, amongst their own people.  
None can better tell then my Ape( said Master Peter) though the devill himself will scarce catch him; yet I imagine, making much of him, and hunger, will force him to seek me to night, and by morning we shall come together. Well, to conclude; the storm of the Motion passed, and all supped merrily, and like good fellowes, at Don Quixotes charge; who was liberal in extremity. Before day, the fellow with the launces and Halberds was gone, and some-what after, the scholar and the page. came to take leave of Don Quixote, the one to return homeward, and the other to prosecute his intended voyage, and for a relief Don Quixote gave him six shillings.  
Master Peter would haue no more to do with him; for he knew him too well. So he got up before the sun, and gathering the relics of the Motion together, and his Ape, he betook him to his adventures. The venture that knew not Don Quixote, wondered as much at his liberality, as his madness. To conclude, Sancho paid him honestly, by his Masters order, and taking leave, about eight of the clock they left the vent, and went on their way, where wee must leave them; for so it is fit, that we may come to other matters pertaining to the true declaration of this famous History.   

CHAP. XXVII.  
Who Master Peter& his Ape were, with the ill success that Don Quixote had in the adventure of the Braying, which ended not so well, as he would, or thought for.  
CId Hamete, the Chronicler of this famous History, begins this Chapter with these words: I swear like a catholic Christian. To which the translator says, That Cid his swearing like a catholic Christian, he being a Moore, as undoubtedly he was, was no otherwise to be understood, then that as the catholic Christian, when he swears, doth or ought to swear truth, so did he, as if he had sworn like a catholic Christian, in what he meant to writ of Don Quixote, especially in recounting who Mr. Peter& the prophesying Ape were, that made all the country astonished at his fore-telling things. He says then, that he who hath red the former part of this History, will haue well remembered that same 'gins de Passamonte, whom Don Quixote, amongst other galleyslaves, freed in Sierra Morena, a benefit for which afterward he had small thankes, and worse payment, from that wicked and ungrateful rout.  
This 'gins de Passamonte, whom Don Quixote called Ginesillo de Parapilla, was he that stolen Sancho's Dapple; which, because neither the manner nor the time were put in the first part, made many attribute the fault of the Impression, to the authors weakness of memory. But true it is, that 'gins stolen him, as Sancho slept vpon his back, using the same trick and device of Brunelo's, when as Sacripante being vpon the siege of Albraca, he stolen his horse from under his legs; and after Sancho recovered him again, as was shewed.  
This 'gins, fearful of being found by the Iustices that sought after him, to punish him for his infinite villainies and faults, that were so many and so great, that himself made a great volume of them, determined to get him into the kingdom of arragon, and so covering his left eye, to apply himself to the office of a Puppet-man; for this and juggling he was excellent at. It fell out so, that he bought his Ape of certain captive Christians that came out of Barbary, whom he had instructed, that vpon making a certain sign, he should leap vpon his shoulder, and should mumble, or seem to do so, at least, something in his ear.  
This done, before he would enter into any town with his Motion or Ape, he informed himself in the nearest town, or where he best could, what particulars had happened in such a place, or to such persons, and bearing all well in mind, the first thing he did, was to show his Motion, which was sometimes of one Story, otherwhiles of another: but all merry, delightful, and familiarly known.  
The sight being finished, he propounded the rarities of his Ape, telling the people that he could declare unto them, all things past and present; but in things to come, he had no skill: For an answer to each question he demanded a shilling; but to some he did it cheaper, according as he perceived the Demanders in case to pay him; and sometimes he came to such places, as he knew what had happened to the Inhabitants, who although they would demand nothing, because they would not pay him; yet he would strait make signs to the Ape, and tell them, the Beast had  told him this or that, which fell out just by what he had before heard, and with this he got an unspeakable name, and all men flocked about him, and at other times( as he was very cunning) he would reply so, that the answers fell out very fit to the questions: and since no body went about to sift, or to press him, how his Ape did prophesy, he gulled every one, and filled his pouch.  
As soon as ever he came into the vent, he knew Don Quixote& Sancho, and all that were there: but it had cost him dear, if Don Quixote had let his hand fall somewhat lower, when he cut off King Marsilius his head, and destroyed all his chivalry, as was related in the antecedent Chapter. And this is all that may be said of Master Peter and his Ape.  
And returning to Don Quixote de la Mancha, I say, that after he was gone out of the Vente, he determined first of all to see the banks of the river Heber, and all round-about, before he went to the City of Saragosa, since between that and the entrusts there, he had time enough for all. hereupon he went on his way, which he passed two dayes without lighting on any thing worth writing, till the third day, going up a Ridge-way, he heard a sound of drums, Trumpets, and Guns; at first, he thought some Regiment of Souldiers passed by that way: so, to see them, he spurred Rozinante, and got up the Ridge, and when he was at the top, he saw( as he guessed) at the foot of it, near vpon two hundred men, armed with different sorts of arms, to wit, spears, Crosse-bowes, partisans, Halberds, and Pikes, and some Guns, and many Targets. He came down from the high ground, and drew near to the Squadron, insomuch that he might distinctly, perceive their Banners, judged of their Colours, and noted their Impreses, and especially one, which was on a Standard or Shred of white satin, where was lively painted a little ass, like one of your Sardinian Asses, his head lifted up, his mouth open, and his tongue out, in act and posture just as he were braying, about him were these two verses written in faire letters;  
Twas not for nought that day,  
The one and t'other judge did bray:  
By this device Don Quixote collected, that those people belonged to the Braying town, and so he  told Sancho, declaring likewise what was written in the Standard; he  told him also, that he that  told them the Story, was in the wrong, to say they were two Aldermen that brayed: for by the verses of the Standard, they were two Iudges. To which Sancho answered, Sir, that breaks no square, for it may very well be, that the Aldermen that then brayed, might come in time to be Iudges of the town, so they may haue been called by both titles. howsoever, tis not material to the truth of the story, whether the Brayers were Aldermen, or Iudges, one for another, be they who they would, and a judge is even as likely to bray as an Alderman.  
To conclude, they perceived and knew, that the town that was mocked, went out to skirmish with another that had too much abused them, and more then was fitting for good neighbours. Don Quixote went towards them, to Sancho's no small grief, who was no friend to those enterprizes. Those of the squadron hemmed him in, taking him to be some one of their side. Don Quixote lifting up his Visor, with a pleasant countenance and courage, came toward the Standard of the ass, and there all the chiefest of the Army gathered about him to behold him, falling into the same admiration as all else did the first time they had seen him. Don Quixote that saw them attentively look on him, and no man offering to speak to him, or ask him ought, taking hold on their silence, and breaking his own, he raised his voice, and said:  
Honest friends, I desire you with all earnestness, that you interrupt not the discourse that I shall make to you, till you shall see that I eythet distaste or weary you; which if it be so, at the least sign you shall make, I will seal up my lips, and clap a gag on my tongue. All of them bade him speak what he would, for they would hear him willingly.  
Don Quixote having this licence, went on, saying, I, my friends, am a Knight errand, whose exercise is arms, whose profession, to favor those that need favor, and to help the distressed I haue long known of your misfortune,& the cause that every while moves you to take arms to bee revenged on your enemies. And having not once, but many times pondered your business in my understanding, I find( according to the laws of Duell) that you are deceived to think yourselves affronted; for no particular person can affront a whole town, except it be in defying them for Traitors in general, because he knows not who in particular committed the Treason, for which he defied all the town.  
We haue an example of this in Don Diego Ordonnez de Lara, who defied the whole town of Zamora, because he was ignorant, that onely Vellido de Olfos committed the treason in killing his King; so he defied them all, and the reuenge& answer concerned them all: though howsoever Don Diego was somewhat too hasty and too forward; for it was needless for him to haue defied the dead, or the waters, or the corn, or the children unborn, with many other trifles there mentioned: but let it go, for when choler ouer-flowes, the tongue hath neither father, governor, or guide that may correct it. This being so then, that one particular person cannot affront a Kingdom, province, City, Common-wealth, or town onely, it is manifest, that the reuenge of defiance for such as affront is needless, since it is none; for it were a goodly matter sure that those of the town of Reloxa should every foot go out to kill those that abuse them so: Or that your 
several Nicknames given to towns in spain, vpon long tradition,& t●o tedious to be put in a margin.  Cazoteros, Verengeneros, Vallenatos, Xanoneros, or others of these kindes of Nick-names, that are common in every boyes mouth, and the ordinary sort of people: twere very good, I say, that all these famous towns should bee ashamed, and take reuenge, and run with their swords continually drawn like Sack-buts, for every slender quarrel. No, no, God forbid: Men of wisdom and well-gouerned Commonwealths, ought to take arms for four things, and so to endanger their persons, lives and estates. First, to defend the catholic Faith. Secondly, their lives, which is according to divine and natural Law. Thirdly, to defend their honour, family,& estates. Fourthly, to serve their Prince in a lawful war, and if we will, we may add a fift( that may serve for a second) to defend their Country. To these five capital causes, may be joined many others, just and reasonable, that may oblige men to take arms: but to take them for trifles, and things that are rather fit for laughter and pastime then for any affront, it seems that he who takes them, wants his iudgement. Besides, to take an unjust reuenge,( indeed nothing can be just by way of reuenge) is directly against Gods Law which wee profess, in which we are commanded to do well to our enemies, and good to those that hate us; a Commandement that though it seem difficult to fulfil, yet it is not onely to those that know less of God then the world, and more of the flesh then the Spirit; for Iesus Christ, true God and man, who never lied, neither could, nor can, being our lawgiver, said that his yoke was sweet, and his burden light: so he would command us nothing that should be unpossible for us to fulfil. So that, my masters, you are tied both by laws divine and human to be pacified.  
The devill take me( thought Sancho to himself at this instant) if this Master of mine be not a divine, or if not, as like one as one egg is to another.  
Don Quixote took breath a while, and seeing them still attentive, had proceeded in his discourse, but that Sancho's conceitedness came betwixt him and home, who seeing his Master pause, took his turn, saying:  
My Master Don Quixote de la Mancha, sometimes called The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, and now The Knight of the lions, is a very judicious Gentleman, speaks Latin and his mother-tongue as well as a Bachelor of Arts, and in all he handleth or adviseth, proceeds like a man of arms, and hath all the laws and Statutes of that you call Duell, ad vnguem: therefore there is no more to bee done, but to govern yourselves according to his direction, and let me bear the blame if you do amiss. Besides, as you are now  told, tis a folly to be ashamed to hear one Bray; for I remember when I was a boy, I could haue brayed at any time I listed, without any bodies hindrance, which I did so truly and cunningly, that when I brayed, all the Asses in the town would answer me; and for all this, I was held to be the son of honest parents, and though for this rare quality I was envied by more then four of the proudest of my parish, I cared not two straws; and that you may know I say true, do but stay& harken, for this science is like swimming, once known, never forgotten, so clapping his hand to his nose he began to bray so strongly, that the valleys neere-hand resounded again. But one of them that stood nearest him, thinking he had flouted them, lifted up a good bat he had in his hand, and gave him such a blow, that he tumbled him to the ground.  
Don Quixote, that saw Sancho so evil entreated, set vpon him that did it, with his lance in his hand; but there came so many betwixt them, that it was not possible for him to bee revenged: rather seeing a cloud of stones coming towards himself, and that a thousand bent Crosse-bowes began to threaten him, and no less quantity of guns; turning Rozinantes reins, as fast as he could gallop, he got from among them, recommending himself hearty to God, to free him from that danger, and fearing every foot, lest some bullet should enter him behind, and come out at his breast: so he still went fetching his breath, to see if it failed him. But they of the squadron were satisfied when they saw him fly, and so shot not at him. Sancho they set vpon his ass,( scarce yet come to himself) and let him go after his Master, not that he could tell how to guide him: but Dapple followed Rozinantes steps, without whom he was nobody.  
Don Quixote being now a pretty way off, looked back, and saw that Sancho was coming, and marked that nobody followed him. Those of the squadron were there till dark night, and because their enemies came not to battle with them, they returned home to their town, full of mirth and jollity: and if they had known the ancient custom of the Grecians, they would haue raised a Trophy in that place.   

CHAP. XXVIII.  
Of things that Benengeli relates, which he that reads shall know, if he red them with attention.  
WHen the Valiant man turns his back, the advantage over him is manifest, and it is the part of wise men to reserve themselves to better occasions. This truth was verified in Don Quixote, who giuing way to the fury of the people, and to the ill intentions of that angry squadron; took his heels, and without remembering Sancho, or the danger he had left him in, got himself so far as he might seem to be safe. Sancho followed laid a-thwart vpon his ass, as hath been said. At last he ouer-took him, being now come to himself, and coming near, he fell off his Dapple at Rozinantes feet, all sorrowful, bruised and beaten. Don Quixote alighted to search his wounds, but finding him whole from top to to, very angrily he said, You must Bray with a plague to you, and where haue you found that tis good naming the Halter in the hanged mans house? to your braying music, what counterpoint could you expect but Bat-blowes? And, Sancho, you may give God thankes, that since they blessed you with a cudgel, they had not made the Per signum crucis on you with a Scimitar.  
I know not what to answer( quoth Sancho) for methinks I speak at my back, pray let's bee gone from hence, and Ile no more braying: yet I cannot but say, that your Knight Errants can fly, and leave their faithful Squires to bee bruised like Priuet by their enemies.  
To retire, is not to fly( said Don Quixote) for know, Sancho, that Valour that is not founded vpon the Basis of wisdom, is styled Temerity, and the rash mans actions are rather attributed to good fortune, then courage. So that I confess I retired, but fled not, and in this haue imitated many valiant men, that haue reserved themselves for better times; and Histories are full of these, which because now they would be tedious to me, and unprofitable to thee, I relate them not at present.  
By this time Sancho, with Don Quixote's help, got to horse, and Don Quixote mounted Rozinante, and by little& little, they had gotten into a little Elme-groue, some quarter of a league off: now and then Sancho would fetch a most deep Heigho,& dolorous sighs. And Don Quixote demanding the reason of his pitiful complaints, he said, that from the point of his backe-bone, to the top of his crown, he was so sore, that he knew not what to do. The cause of that pain undoubtedly( quoth Don Quixote) is, that as the cudgel with which they banged thee was long and slender, it lighted vpon those parts of thy back all along, that grieve thee; and if it had been thicker, it had grieved thee more. truly( quoth Sancho) you haue resolved me of a great doubt, and in most delicate terms declared it to me. Body of me, was the cause of my grief so concealed, that you must needs tell me that all of me was sore where the cudgel lighted? If my ankles did pain me, I warrant, you would riddle the cause of it; but tis poor riddling to tell that my bruising grieves me. i'faith, i'faith, Master mine, other mens ills are slightly regarded, and every day I discover land, and see how little I can expect from your service; for if at this time you suffered me to be dry-beaten, we shal come a hundred& a hundred times to the Blanket-tossing you wot of, and other childish tricks, which if they now lighted on my shoulders, they will after come out at mine eyes. It were a great deal better for me, but that I am a beast, and shall never do ought well while I live. It were a great deal better( I say again) for me to get me home to my Wife and Children, to maintain and bring them up with that little God hath given me, and not to follow you up and down these byways, drinking ill, and eating worse. And for your bed, good honest Squire, even count me out seven foot of good earth; and if you will haue any more, take as many more; for you may feed at pleasure, stretch yourself at your ease. I would the first that made stitch in Knight Errantry were burned, or beaten to powder, or at least he that first would be Squire to such fools, as all your Knight-Errants in former times haue been, of the present I say nothing; for yourself being one, I respect them, and because I know that you know an Ace more then the devill in all you speak or think.  
I durst venture a good wager with thee, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, that now thou talkest and no body controls thee, thou feelest no pain in all thy body: talk on, child mine, all that is in thy mind, or comes to thy mouth, for so thou beest not grieved, I will be pleased with the distaste that thy impertinencies might give me. And if you desire so much to bee at home with your wife and children, God forbid I should gainsay it: you haue money of mine, and see how long tis since our third sally from home, and how much is due to you for every month, and pay yourself.  
When I served( quoth Sancho) Tomè Carrasco, Father to the Bachelor Carrasco, whom you know well, I had two Ducats a month besides my victuals: of you I know not how much I shall haue, though I am sure it is a greater toil to be a Squire to a Knight errand, then to serve a rich Husbandman; for indeed, we that serve Husbandmen, though wee labour never so much in the day time, if the worst come to the worst, at night we sup with the Pottage-pot, and lie in a bed, which I haue not done ever since I served you, except it were that short time wee were at Don Diego de Miranda's house, and after when I had the cheer of the skimmings of Camacho's pots, and when I ate and drunk and slept at Basilius his house; all the rest hath been vpon the could ground, to the open air, and subject, as you would say, to the Inclemencies of the heauens, onely living vpon bits of cheese, and scraps of bread, and drinking water, sometimes of brooks, sometimes of springs, which we met withall by the ways we went.  
I confess, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) that all thou sayest may be true; how much more thinkest thou should I give thee, then Tomè Carrasco?  
You shall please me( quoth Sancho) with twelue-pence more a month, and that concerning my wages for my service; but touching your word and promise you gave me, that I should haue the government of an island, it were fit you added the tother three shillings, which in all make up fifteen.  
It is very well, said Don Quixote, and according to the wages that you haue allotted unto yourself, it is now twenty five daies since our last sally, reckon, Sancho, so much for so much, and see how much is due to you, and pay yourself, as I haue bidden you.  
Body of me( said Sancho) you are clean out of the reckoning; for touching the promise of governing the island, you must reckon from the time you promised, till this present. Why, how long is it( quoth he) since I promised it? If I be not forgetful( said Sancho) it is now some twenty yeeres, misrepresenting two or three dayes. Don Quixote gave himself a good clap on the forehead, and began to laugh hearty, saying, Why, my being about Sierra Morena, and our whole travels were in less then two Moneths, and dost thou say it was twenty yeeres since I promised thee the island? I am now of opinion, that thou wouldst haue all the money thou hast of mine, consumed in paying thee wages: which if it be so,& that thou art so minded, from hence-forward▪ take it, much good may it do thee; for so I may not be troubled with such a Squire, I shall be glad to be poor, and without a farthing. But tell me, thou Preuaricator of the Squirely laws of Knight-Errantry, where hast thou ever seen or red of any Squire belonging to Knight errand, that hath capitulated with his Master, to give him thus much or so much: launch, launch, thou base lewd fellow, thou Hobgoblin; launch? I say, into the mere magnum of their Histories; and if thou find that any Squire haue said, or so much as imagined, what thou hast said, I will give thee leave to brand my fore-head, and to boot, to seal me with 
A trick to give a tuck with the thumb vpon ones lips, as fresh men are used in a university.  four tuckes in the mouth: turn thy reins, or thine Asses halter, and get thee to thy house, for thou shalt not go a step further with me. Oh ill-giuen bread, and ill-placed promises! Oh man more beast then man! now when I thought to haue put thee into a fortune, and such a one, that in spite of thy wife, thou shouldst haue been styled, My Lord: Thou leavest me? Now dost thou go, when I had a purpose to haue made thee Lord of the best island in the world? Well, well, as thou thyself hast said many times; The hony is not for the Asses mouth: An ass thou art, an ass thou wilt be, and an ass thou shalt die, and till then wilt thou remain so, before thou fallest into the reckoning that thou art a beast.  
Sancho beholded Don Quixote earnestly, all the while he thus ranted him, and was so moved, that the tears stood in his eyes, and with a dolorous low voice he said; Master mine, I confess that, to be altogether an ass, I want nothing but a tail: if you will put one on me, I will be contented, and will serve you like an ass all dayes of my life. Pardon me, Sir, and pitty my youth, and consider my folly; for if I speak much, it proceeds rather out of simplicity then knavery. Who errs and mends, to God himself commends.  
I would be sorry, little Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) but that thou shouldst mingle some by-pretty proverb in thy Dialogue. Well, Ile pardon thee for this once, vpon condition hereafter thou mend, and show not thyself so covetous, but that thou rouse up thy spirits, and encourage thyself with hope of the accomplishment of my promise; For better late then not at all. Sancho answered him, he would; though it were to make a virtue of necessity.  
hereupon they put into the Elme-groue, and Don Quixote got to the foot of an elm,& Sancho to the foot of a Beech; for these kind of trees& such like, haue always feet, but no hands. Sancho had an ill night on it; for his Bat-blow made him more sensible in the could. Don Quixote fell into his usual imaginations: yet they both slept, and by day-peepe they were on their way, searching after the famous banks of Heber, where they happened vpon what shall be  told in the ensuing Chapter.   

CHAP. XXIX.  
Of the famous adventure of the Enchanted bark.  
DON Quixote and Sancho, by their computation, two dayes after they were out of the Elme-groue, came to the river Heber, whose sight was very delightsome to Don Quixote; for first he contemplated on the amenity of those banks, the clearness of the water, the gentle current, and the abundancy of the liquid crystal, whose pleasing sight brought a thousand amorous thoughts into his head, especially he fell to think what he had seen in Montesino's cave: for though Master Peters Ape had  told him, that part of it was true, and part false, he learned more to the truth then to the other, contrary to Sancho, who held all, as false as falsehood itself.  
As they were thus going on, Don Quixote might see a little Boat, without oars or any other kind of tackling, which was tied by the brink of the river, to a trees stump on the bank. Don Quixote looked round-about him, but could see no body; so, without more ado, he alighted from Rozinante, and commanded Sancho to do the like from Dapple, and that he should tie both the Beasts very well, to the root of an elm or Willow there. Sancho demanded of him the cause of that sudden lighting, and of that tying. Don Quixote made answer; Know, Sancho, that this Boat thou seest directly( for it can bee nothing else) calls and invites me to go and enter into it, to give aid to some Knight, or other parsonage of rank and note, that is in distress: for this is the style of books of Knight-hood, and of Enchanters that are there intermingled, that when any Knight is in some danger, that he cannot bee freed from it, but by the hand of some other Knight, although the one bee distant from the other, two or three thousand leagues or more, they either snatch him into a cloud, or provide him a Boat to enter in, and in the twinkling of an eye, either carry him thorough the air, or thorough the sea, as they list, and where his assistance is needful; so that, Sancho, this Boat is put here to the same effect, and this is as clear as day, and before wee go, tie Dapple and Rozinante together, and let's on in Gods Name: for I will not fail to embark myself, though Bare-foot Friers should entreat me.  
Well, seeing tis so( said Sancho) and that you will every foot run into these( I know not what I shall call them) fopperies, there's no way but to obey, and lay down the neck, according to the proverb; do as thy Master commands thee, and sit down at Table with him: But for all that, for discharge of my conscience, let me tell you, that( me thinks) that is no Enchanted Boat, but one that belongs to some Fisher-men of the river; for here the best Saboga's in the world are taken.  
This he spoken whilst he was tying his Beasts, leaving them to the protection and defence of Enchanters, which grieved him to the soul. Don Quixote bad him he should not bee troubled for the leaving those beasts; for he that should carry them thorough such longinque ways and regions, would also look to the other. I understand not your Lognicke( quoth Sancho) neither haue I heard such a word in all the dayes of my life. Longinque( said Don Quixote) that is, far, remote: and no marvell thou understandest not that word, for thou art not bound to the understanding of Latin, though ye haue some that presume to know when they are ignorant. Now they are bound( said Sancho) what shall we do next?  
What?( said Don Quixote) bless ourselves& weigh anchor, I mean, let us embark ourselves, and cut the rope by which this boat is tied: so leaping into it, and Sancho following him, he cut the cord, and the Boat faire and softly fell off from the bank; and when Sancho saw himself about a two rods length within the river, he began to tremble, fearing his perdition: but nothing so much troubled him, as to hear Dapple bray, and to see that Rozinante struggled to unloose himself: and he  told his Master; Dapple brays and condoles for our absence, Rozinante strives to bee at liberty, to throw himself after vs. Oh most dear friends, remain you there in safety, and may the madness that severs us from you, converted into repentance, bring us back to your Presence: and with that he began to weep so bittetly, that Don Quixote, all moody and choleric, began to cry out; What makes thee fear, thou cowardly imp? what criest thou for, thou heart of curds? who persecutes thee? who baits thee, thou soul of a Milk-sop? or what wantest thou in the midst of all abundance? art thou happily to go bare-foot over the Riphaean mountaines? Rather vpon a seat like an Arch-Duke, thorough the calm current of this delightful river: from whence we shall very quickly pass into the main sea: but hitherto wee haue gone and sailed some seven or eight hundred leagues, and if I had an Astrolabe here, to take the height of the Pole, I could tell thee how far wee haue gone, though, either my knowledge is small, or wee haue now, or shall quickly pass the equinoctial Line, which divides& cuts the two contraposed Poles in equal distance.  
And when you come to this Line you speak of, how far shall we haue gone? A great way( answered Don Quixote:) For of three hundred and sixty degrees, which the whole Globe containeth of Land and water, according to Ptolomies Computation, who was the greatest Cosmographer known, we shall haue gone the half, when we come to the Line I haue  told you of. Verily( quoth Sancho) you haue brought me a pretty witness, to confirm your saying, 
Mistakes of the words, Ptolomeo and Computo: for so it is in the Spanish.  To ly my& Comtation, and I know not what. Don Quixote laughed at Sancho's interpretation he had given to the name, and to the Computation and account of the Cosmographer Ptolomeus, and said to him; You shall understand, Sancho, that when the Spanyards, and those that embark themselves at Cadiz, to go to the East Indies, one of the greatest signs they haue, to know whether they haue passed the equinoctial, is, that all men that are in the ship, their Lice die vpon them, and not one remains with them, nor in the vessel, though they would give their weight in gold for him: so that, Sancho, thou mayst put thy hand to thy thigh, and if thou meet with any live thing, we shall be out of doubt; if thou find est nothing, then we haue passed the Line.  
I cannot beleeue any of this, quoth Sancho: but yet I will do what you will haue me, though I know no necessity for these trials; since I see with these eyes, that we haue not gone five rods lengths from the bank; for there Rozinante and Dapple are, in the same places where we left them, and looking well vpon the matter, as I now do, I swear by Me, that wee neither move nor go faster then an Ant.  
Make the trial that I bade you, and care for no other; for thou knowest not, what columns are, what Lines, parallels, Z●redge●diacks, Clipticks, Poles, Solstices, Aequinoctials, Planets, signs, points, and Measures, of which the celestial and Terrestrial Spheres are composed: for if thou knewest all these, or any part of them, thou mightst plainly see what parallels wee haue cut, what signs we haue seen, and what Images wee haue left behind, and are leaving now. And let me wish thee again, tha●redge● thou search and feel thyself: for I do not think, but tha●redge● thou art as clean as a sheet of white smooth paper.  
Sancho began to feel, and coming softly and warily with his hand to the left side of his neck, he lifted up his head, and said to his Master; Either your experience is false, or else we are not come near the place you speak of, by many leagues. Why( quoth Don Quixote) hast thou met with some thing? I, with some things( said he) and shaking his fingers, he washed his whole hand in the river; by which, and in the Current, the boa●redge● softly slid along, without being moved by any secret influence, or hidden Enchantment, but the very course itself of the water, as yet soft and easy.  
By this they discovered two great water-mils in the midst of the river: and Don Quixote, as soon as he saw them, cried aloud to Sancho; Seest thou, Friend, that City, Castle, or fortress that shows itself, where some Knight is sure oppressed, or some queen or princess in ill plight, for whose succour I am brought hither?  
What the devill of City, Castle, or fortress, Sir, do you talk of( quoth Sancho?) do you not see that those are water-mils in the river to grind corn? Peace, Sancho( said he) for though they look like Water-mills, yet they are not, and I haue  told thee already, that these Enchantments chop and change things out of their natural being: I say not that they change them out of one being into another really, but in appearance, as was seen by experience in the transformation of Dulcinea, the onely refuge of my hopes.  
Now the Boat being gotten into the midst of the Current, began to move somewhat faster then before. They of the Mills, that saw the Boat come down the river, and that it was now even gotten into the swift stream of the wheels, many of them came running out with long poles to stay it: and as their faces and clothes were all covered with meale-dust, they made a strange show, and cried out, saying; devils of men, whither go you? Are you mad to drown yourselves, or bee beaten to pieces against these wheels?  
Did not I tell thee, Sancho( said Don Quixote) then, that we should come where I should show the force of mine arm? look what wicked uncouth fellowes come to encounter me; look what a troope of Hobgoblins oppose themselves against me; look what ugly visages play the Bull-beggers with us: Now you shall see, you Rascals; and standing up in the Boat, he began aloud to threaten the Millers, saying; You base scum and ill-aduised, free and deliver that person, which is in your fortress or Prison oppressed, bee he high or low, or of what ●ort or quality soever; for I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called The Knight of the lions, for whom the happy ending of this adventure is reserved by order of the high Heauens: and this said, he laid hand to his sword, and began to fence in the air against the Millers, who hearing, but not understanding those madnesses, stood with their poles to stay the Boat, which was now entering the source and channel of the wheels. Sancho kneeled devoutly vpon his knees, praying heaven to free him from so manifest a danger, which succeeded happily, by the quickness and skill of the Millers, who opposing their staues to the Boat, stayed it: but so, that they overturned it, and Don Quixote and Sancho topted into the river: but it was well for Don Quixote, who could swim like a Goose, though the weight of his arms carried him twice to the bottom, and had it not been for the Millers, who leaped into the water, and pulled them out both, as if they had weighed them up, there they had both perished.  
When they were both on land, more wet then thirsty, Sancho, vpon his knees, with joined hands, and his eyes nailed to heaven, prayed to God with a large and devout prayer, to free him from thence-forward, from the rash desires and enterprizes of his Master. And now the Fisher-men came, the Owners of the Boat, which was broken to pieces by the wheels, who seeing it spoyled, began to dis-robe Sancho, and to demand payment of Don Quixote, who very patiently, as if he had done nothing, said to the Millers and Fisher-men, that he would very willingly pay for the Boat, vpon condition they should freely deliver him, without fraud or guile, the person or persons that were oppressed in their Castle.  
What person, or what Castle mad-man?( said one of the Millers) will you, trow, carry away those that came hither to grind their corn? Enough, thought Don Quixote to himself, here a man may preach in a wilderness, to reduce a base people to a good work. In this adventure two deep Enchanters haue met, and the one disturbs the other: the one provided me the bark, and the other overthrew me out of it; God help us, all this world is tricks and devices, one contrary to the other; I can do no more: and raising his voice, he went on, saying; Friends, who soever you are, locked up in this prison, pardon me; for, by my ill fortune and yours, I cannot deliver you from your pain: this adventure is kept& reserved for some other Knight. When he had said this, he agreed with the fishers, and paid 25. shillings for the boat, which Sancho gave with a very good will, saying, With two of these boat-trickes we shall sink our whole stock.  
The Fishermen and the Millers were in a great admiration, to see two such strange shapes, quiter from the ordinary fashion of other men, and never understood to what purpose Don Quixote used all those discourses to them; so holding them for maddemen, they left them, and got to their Milles, and the Fishers to their quarters. Don Quixote and Sancho like beasts turn to their beasts: and this end had the adventure of the Enchanted bark.   

CHAP. XXX.  
What happened to Don Quixote with the faire Huntresse.  
VEry melancholy and ill at ease went the Knight and Squire to horseback, especially Sancho, for it grieved him at the soul to meddle with the stock of their money; for it seemed to him, that to part with any thing from thence, was to part with his eye-balls. To be brief, without speaking a word, to horse they went, and left the famous river. Don Quixote, butted in his amorous cogitations, and Sancho in those of his preferment; for as yet he thought he was far enough off from obtaining it: for although he were a fool, yet he well perceived, that all his Masters actions, or the greatest part of them were idle: so he sought after some occasion, that without entering into farther reckonings, or leaue-taking with his Master, he might one day get out of his clutches, and go home, but fortune ordered matters contrary to his fear. It fell out then, that the next day about Sun-setting, and as they were going out of a wood, Don Quixote spreads his eyes about a green meadow, and at one end of it saw company,& coming near, he saw they were Falconers; he came nearer, and amongst them beholded a gallant Lady vpon her Palfrey, or milk-white nag, with green furniture, and her Saddle-pummell of silver. The Lady herself was all clad in green, so brave and rich, that bravery itself was transformed into her. On her left hand shee carried a Soare-Falcon, a sign that made Don Quixote think she was some great Lady, and mistress to all the rest, as true it was: so he cried out to Sancho; run, son Sancho, and tell that Lady on the Palfrey with the Soare-hawke, that I, The Knight of the lions, do kiss her most beautiful hands; and if her magnificence give me leave, I will receive her commands, and be her seruant to the uttermost of my power, that her highnesse may please to command me in; and take heed, Sancho, how thou speakest, and haue a care thou mix not thy embassage with some of those proverbs of thine. Tell me of that? as if it were now the first time that I haue carried Embassies to high and mighty Ladies in my life? Except it were that thou carriedst to Dulcinea( quoth Don Quixote) I know not of any other thou hast carried, at least whilst thou wert with me. That's true, said Sancho; but a good pay-master needs no surety: and where there is plenty, the guests are not empty, I mean, there is no telling nor advising me ought; for of all things I know a little. I beleeue it( said Don Quixote) get thee gone in good time, and God speed thee.  
Sancho went on, putting Dapple out of his place with a career, and coming where the faire Huntresse was, alighting, he kneeled down, and said; Faire Lady, that Knight you see there, called The Knight of the Lyans, is my Master, and I am a Squire of his, whom at his house they call Sancho Pansa; this said Knight of the lions, who not long since was called, The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, sends me to tell your greatness, That you be pleased to give him leave, that with your liking, good will,& consent, he put in practise his desire, which is no other( as he says, and I beleeue) then to serve your 
For so it is in the Spanish to make the simplo Squire speak absurdly enough, for in stead of Alteca, the Author makes him say Altaneria.  lofty high-flying beauty; and if your ladyship give him leave, you shall do a thing that may redound to your good, and he shall receive amost remarkable favour and content.  
truly, honest Squire, said the Lady, thou hast delivered thy embassage with all the circumstances that such an embassage requires: rise, rise, for the Squire of so renowned a Knight as he of the sorrowful countenance( of whom wee haue here special notice) tis not fit should kneel: rise up friend, and tell your Master that he come near on Gods name, that the Duke my Husband and I may do him service at a house of pleasure we haue here.  
Sancho rose up astonished, as well at the good Ladies beauty, as her court-ship and courtesy, especially for that shee  told him she had notice of his Master, The Knight of the sorrowful Countenance; for in that she called him not Knight of the lions, it was because it was so lately put vpon him. The duchess asked him( for as yet we know not of what place shee was duchess) tell me, Sir Squire, is not this your Master, one, of whom there is a History printed,& goes by the name of, The ingenious Gentleman, Don Quixote de la Mancha, the Lady of whose life is likewise, one Dulcinea deal Toboso? The very self same( said Sancho) and that Squire of his, that is, or should be in the History, called Sancho Pansa, am I, except I were changed in my cradle, I mean that I were changed in the press. I am glad of all this( quoth the duchess:) go, brother Pansa, and tell your Master that he is welcome to our dukedom, and that no news could haue given me greater content. Sancho with this so acceptable an answer, with great pleasure returned to his Master, to whom he recounted all that the great Lady had said to him, extoling to the heauens her singular beauty, with his rustical terms, her affablenesse and courtesy. Don Quixote pranked it in his saddle, sate stiff in his stirrups, fitted his Visor, roused up Rozinante, and with a comely boldness went to kiss the Duchesses hands, who causing the Duke her husband to be called,  told him, whilst Don Quixote was coming, his whole embassy: so both of them having red his first part, and understood by it his besotted humour, attended him with much pleasure and desire to know him, with a purpose to follow his humour, and to give way to al he should say, and to treat with him as a Knight errand, as long as he should be with them, with all the accustomend ceremonies in books of Knight Errantry, which they had red, and were much affencted with.  
By this, Don Quixote came with his Visor pulled up, and making show to alight, Sancho came to haue held his stirrup: but he was so unlucky, that as he was lighting from Dapple, one of his feet caught vpon a halter of the packe-saddle, so that it was not possible for him to disentangle himself, but hung by it, with his mouth and his breast to the ground ward. Don Quixote, who used not to alight without his stirrups being held, thinking Sancho was already come to hold it, lighted suddenly down, but brought saddle and all to ground,( belike being ill-girt) to his much shane, and curses inwardly laid vpon the unhappy Sancho, that had still his leg in the stocks. The Duke commanded some of his Falconers to help the Knight and Squire, who raised Don Quixote in ill plight with his fall, and limping, as well as he could, he went to kneel before the two Lordings: but the Duke would not by any means consent, rather alighting from his horse, he embraced Don Quixote, saying:  
I am very sorry, Sir Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, that your first fortune hath been so ill in my ground; but the carelessness of Squires is oft the cause of worse successses. It is impossible, valorous Prince, that any should be bad, since I haue seen you, although my fall had cast me to the profound Abisme; since the glory of seeing you would haue drawn me out, and raised me up. My Squire( a curse light on him) vnties his tongue better to speak maliciously, then he girts his horses saddle to sit firmly: but howsoever I am down or up, on foot or on horseback, I will always bee at yours, and my Lady the Duchesses service, your worthy Consort, the worthy Lady of beauty, and universal princess of courtesy. Softly, my signor ( Don Quixote de la Mancha) quoth the Duke, for where my Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso is present, there is no reason other beauties should be praised.  
Now Sancho Pansa was free from the noose,& being at hand; before his Master could answer a word, he said, It cannot be denied, but affirmed, that my Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso is very faire; but where we least think, there goes the Hare away: for I haue heard say, that shee you call Nature, is like a Potter that makes vessels of day, and he that makes a handsome vessel, may also make two or three, or an hundred: this I say, that you may know, my Lady the duchess comes not a whit behind my mistress the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso. Don Quixote turned to the duchess, and said, Your greatness may suppose that never any Knight in the world had ever such a prater to his Squire, nor a more conceited then mine, and he will make good what I say, if your Highnesse shall at any time be pleased to make trial. To which( quoth the duchess) that honest Sancho may be conceited, I am very glad, a sign he is wise; for your pleasant conceits, signor, as you very well know, rest not in dull brains, and since Sancho is witty and conceited, from hence-forward I confirm him to be discreet: And a Prater, added Don Quixote. So much the better( said the Duke) for many conceits cannot be expressed in few words: and that we may not spend the time in many, come, Sir Knight of the sorrowful Countenance: of the lions, your Highnesse must say( quoth Sancho:) for now we haue no more sorrowful countenance. And now let the lions bear countenance. The Duke proceeded: I say let the Knight of the lions come to my Castle, which is near here, where he shall haue the entertainment that is justly due to so high a parsonage, and that, that the duchess and I are wont to give to Knights errand that come to vs.  
By this time Sancho had made ready and girded Rozinantes saddle well; and Don Quixote mounting him, and the Duke vpon a goodlly horse, set the duchess in the middle, and they went toward the Castle. The duchess commanded that Sancho should ride by her, for she was infinitely delighted to ●eare his discretions. Sancho was easily entreated, and weaued himself between the three, and made a fourth in their conversation. The Duke and duchess were much pleased, who held it for a great good fortune, to haue lodged in their Castle such a Knight errand, and such a Squire Erred.   

CHAP. XXXI.  
That treats of many and great affairs.  
GReat was the ioy that Sancho conceived to see himself a favourite to the duchess, as he thought; for it shaped out unto him, that he should find in her Castle, as much as in Don Diego's, or that of Basilius: for he was always affencted with a plentiful life, and so laid hold vpon Occasions lock, ever when it was presented. The History then tells us, that before they came to the house of pleasure or Castle, the Duke went before, and gave order to all his followers how they should behave themselves towards Don Quixote, who as he came on with the duchess to the Castle gates, there came out two lackeys, or Palfrey-boyes, clothed down to the feet in coats like night-gownes, of fine Crimson satin, and taking Don Quixote in their arms, without hearing or looking on him, they said, go, and let your greatness help my Lady to alight. Don Quixote did so,& there was great complementing betwixt both about it: but in the end, the Duchesses earnestness prevailed, and shee would not descend or alight from her Palfrey, but in the Dukes arms, saying; That shee was too unworthy to bee so unprofitable a burden to so high a Knight. At length the Duke helped her, and as they entred a great Base Court, there came two beautiful Damozels,& cast vpon Don Quixote's shoulders, a faire mantle of finest Scarlet, and in an instant all the leads of the Courts and entries were thronged with men and maide-seruants of the Dukes, who cried aloud; Welcome, oh Flower and cream of Knights errand, and all or most of them sprinkled pots of sweet water vpon Don Quixote, and vpon the Duke, all which made Don Quixote admire, and never till then did he truly believe that he was a Knight errand, really and not fantastically, seeing that he was used just as he had red Knights errand were in former times.  
Sancho, forsaking Dapple, shewed himself to the duchess, and eutered into the Castle, but his conscience pricking him, that he had left his ass alone, he came to a reverend old waiting woman, that came out amongst others to wait vpon the duchess, and very softly spoken to her, mistress Gonsalez, or what is your name forsooth? Donna Rodriguez de Grishalua, said the waiting woman, what would you haue, brother, with me? To which( quoth Sancho) I pray will you do me the favour as to go out at the Castle-gate, where you shall find a Dapple ass of mine, I pray will you see him put, or put him yourself in the stable; for the poor wretch is fearful, and cannot by any means endure to be alone. If the Master( quoth she) be as wise as the man, we shall haue a hot bargain on it: get you gone with a Murrin to you, and him that brought you hither, and look to your ass yourself, for the waiting women in this house are not used to such drudgeries. Why truly( quoth Sancho) I haue heard my Master say, who is the very Wizard of Histories, telling that story of Lanzarote, when he came from britain, that Ladies looked to him, and waiting women to his Courser: and touching my ass in particular, I would not change him for Lanzarotes horse. Brother( quoth she) if you be a leicester, keep your wit till you haue use of it, for those that will pay you; for I haue nothing but this 
La higa: a word of disgrace.  fig to give you. Well yet( said Sancho) the fig is like to be ripe, for you will not lose the Prima vista of your yeeres by a peep less. son of a whore, said the waiting-woman all incensed with choler, whether I am old or no, God knows, I shall give him account, and not to thee, thou rascall, that stinkest of garlic: all this shee spoken so loud, that the duchess heard her, who turning, and seeing the woman so altered, and her eyes so bloody read, she asked her with whom she was angry?  
Here( said shee) with this idiot, that hath earnestly entreated me to put up his ass in the stable, that is at the Castlegate, gining me for an instance, that they haue done so I know not where, that certain Ladies looked to one Lanzarote, and waiting women to his horse, and to mend the matter, in mannerly terms calls me 
Vitia: a name that a woman in Spain cannot endure to hear though shee were as old as Methusalem.  old one. That would more disgrace me( quoth the duchess) then all he should say, and speaking to Sancho, shee said, look you friend Sancho, Donna Rodriguez is very young, and that stolen she wears, is more for authority, and for the fashion, then for her yeeres. A pox on the rest of my yeeres I haue to live( quoth Sancho) if I meant her any ill, I onely desired the kindness, for the love I bear to mine ass, and because I thought I could not recommend him to a more charitable person, then Mistris Rodriguez. Don Quixote, that heard all, said; Are these discourses, Sancho, fit for this place? Sir( said Sancho) let every man express his wants whatsoe'er he be. here I remembered my Dapple, and here I spoken of him, and if I had remembered him in the stable, there I would haue spoken.  
To this( quoth the Duke) Sancho is in the right, and there is no reason to blame him. Dapple shall haue prouander, as much as he will, and let Sancho take no care, he shall be used as well as his own person. With these discourses, pleasing unto all but Don Quixote, they went up stairs, and brought Don Quixote into a goodly Hall, hung with rich cloth of Gold and Tissue, six Damozels vn-armed him,& served for Pages, all of them taught and instructed by the Duke and duchess, what they should do, and how they should behave themselves towards Don Quixote, that he might imagine and see they used him like a Knight errand.  
Don Quixote once vn-armed, was in his strait trouses and doublet of Chamois, dry, high, and lank, with his jaws, that within and without bussed one another; a picture, that if the Damozels that served him, had not had a care to hold in their laughter( which was one of the precise orders their Lords had given them) had burst with laughing. They desired him to vnclothe himself, to shift a shirt: but he would by no means consent, saying; That honesty was as proper to a Knight errand, as valour. Notwithstanding, he bad them give a shirt to Sancho: and looking himself up with him in a chamber, where was a rich bed, he plucked off his clothes, and put on the shirt; and as Sancho and he were alone, he thus spoken to him:  
Tell me( modern jester and old Iolt-head) is it a fit thing, to dishonour and affront so venerable an old waiting-woman, and so worthy to be respected, as she? Was that a fit time to remember your Dapple? Or think you, that these were Lords to let Beasts fare ill, that so neatly use their Masters? For Gods love, Sancho, look to thyself, and discover not thy course thread, that they may see thou art not woven out of a base web Know, Sinner as thou art, that the Master is so much the more esteemed, by how much his seruants are honest, and mannerly; and one of the greatest advantages that great men haue over inferiors, is, that they keep seruants as good as themselves. Know'st thou not, poor fellow, as thou art,& unhappy that I am, that if they see thee to bee a gross peasant, they will think that I am some Mountibanke, or shifting Squire? No, no, friend Sancho, shun, shun these inconveniencies; for he that stumbles too much vpon the Prater and Wit-monger, at the first toe-knocke fals, and becomes a scornful jester: bridle thy tongue, consider and ruminate vpon thy words, before they come from thee, and observe, that wee are now come to a place, from whence, with Gods help and mine arms valour, we shall go bettered three-fold, nay, fiue-fold in famed and wealth.  
Sancho promised him very truly, to sow up his mouth, or to bite his tongue, before he would speak a word that should not be well considered and to purpose, as he had commanded; and that he should not fear, that by him they should ever bee discovered. Don Quixote dressed himself, buckled his sword to his belt, and clapped his scarlet mantle vpon him, putting on a Hunters cap of green satin, which the Damozels had given him: and thus adorned, to the great chamber he went, where he found the Damozels all in a row, six on one side, and six on the other, and all with provision for him to wash, which they ministered to him with many courtesies and ceremonies.  
Betwixt them strait they got him full of pomp and majesty, and carried him to another room, where was a rich table, with service for four persons. The Duke and duchess came to the door to receive him, and with them a grave Clergy-man, 
A good Character of a poor Pedant.  one of those that govern great mens houses, one of those, that as they are not born nobly, so they know not how to instruct those that are: one of those that would haue great mens liberalities, measured by the straightness of their mindes: of those, that teaching those they govern, to bee frugal, would make them miserable: such a one, I say, this grave Clergy-man was, that came with the Duke to receive Don Quixote, there passed a thousand loving compliments, and, at last, taking Don Quixote between them, they sate down to dinner.  
The Duke invited Don Quixote to the vpper end of the table, which, though he refused; yet the Duke so importuned him, that he was forced to take it. The Clergy-man sate over against him, and the Duke and duchess on each side. Sancho was by at all, gaping in admiration, to see the honour those Princes did to his Master, and seeing the many ceremonies and entreaties, that passed betwixt the Duke and him, to make him sit down at the tables end, he said, If your Worships will give me leave, Ile tell you a tale that happened in our town, concerning places. Scarce had Sancho said this, when Don Quixote began to shake, believing certainly he would speak some idle speech. Sancho beholding, understood him, and said, fear not, Sir, that I shall be vnmannerly, or that I shall say any thing that may not bee to the purpose; for I haue not forgotten your counsel, touching speaking much or little, well or ill.  
I remember nothing, Sancho( quoth Don Quixote) speak what thou wilt, so thou speak quickly. Well, what I shall speak( quoth Sancho) is as true, as my Master, Don Quixote, will not let me lye, who is here present. For me( replied Don Quixote) lye as much as thou wilt, for Ile not hinder thee: but take heed what thou speakest. I haue so headed and re-heeded it, that you shall see I warrant ye. Twere very fit( quoth Don Quixote) that your Greatnesses would command this coxcomb to bee thrust out; for he will talk you a thousand follies.  
Assuredly( quoth the duchess) Sancho shall not stir a jot from me; for I know, he is very discreet. Discreet yeeres live your Holinesse( quoth Sancho) for the good opinion you haue of me, although I deserve it not, and thus says my tale: A Gentle-man of our town, very rich and well born; for he was of the blood of the Alami of Medina deal Campo, and married with Donna Mencia de Quinnones, that was daughter to Don Alonso de Maranon, Knight of the order of Saint Iacques, that was drowned in the Herradura, touching whom that quarrel was not long since in our town; for, as I remember, my Master, Don Quixote, was in it, where little Thomas the Mad-cap, son to Baluastro the Smith, was wounded. Is not all this true, Master 
After he had begun a tale without head or foot, he asks a question.  mine? Say by your life, that these Lords may not hold me for a prating liar.  
Hitherto( said the Clergy-man) I rather hold thee for a Prater, then a liar: but from henceforward, I know not for what I shall hold thee. Thou givest so many witnesses, and so many tokens, Sancho, that I cannot but say( quoth Don Quixote) thou tellest true: on with thy tale, and make an end; for I think thou wilt not haue ended these two dayes. Let him go on( quoth the duchess) to do me a pleasure, and let him tell his tale, as he pleaseth, though he make not an end these six dayes; for if they were so many yeeres, they would bee the best that ever I passed in my life.  
I say then, my Masters, that the said Gentle-man I  told you of at first; and whom I know, as well as I know one hand from another( for, from my house to his, tis not a bow-shoot) invited a poor, but honest Husband-man. O●, Brother( said the Clergy-man) for, me thinks, you travell with your tale, as if you would not rest till the next world. In less then half this, I will, if it please God( quoth Sancho) and so I proceed: The said Husband-man coming to the said Gentle-man Inuiters house,( God be merciful to him, for he is now dead) and for a further token, they say, died like a lamb; for I was not by: for at that time I was gone to another town to reaping.  
I prithee( quoth the Clergy-man) come back from your reaping, and without burying the Gentle-man( except you mean to make more obsequies) end your tale. The business then( quoth Sancho) was this, that both of them being ready to sit down at table; for, me thinks, I see them now, more then ever. The Dukes received great pleasure, to see the distaste that the Clergy-man took, at the delays and pauses of Sancho's tale. And Don Quixote consumed himself in choler and rage. Then thus( quoth Sancho) both of them being ready to sit down, the Husband-man contended with the Gentleman not to sit uppermost, and he with the other, that he should, as meaning to command in his own house: but the Husbandman presuming to be mannerly, and courteous, never would, till the Gentleman very moody, laying hands vpon him, made him sit down perforce, saying, Sit down, you Thresher; for where-soere I sit, that shall be the Tables end to thee: and now you haue my Tale, and truly I beleeue, it was brought in here pretty-well to the purpose.  
Don Quixote's face was in a thousand colours, that Iaspered vpon his brow. The Lords dissembled their laughter, that Don Quixote might not be too much abashed, when they perceived Sancho's knavery: and to change discourse, that Sancho might not proceed with other fooleries, the duchess asked Don Quixote what news he had of the Lady Dulcinea, and if he had sent her for a Present lately, any giants, or bugbeares, since he could not but haue overcome many. To which Don Quixote answered, Lady mine; my misfortunes, although they had a beginning, yet they will never haue ending: giants, elves, and bugbeares I haue overcome and sent her; but where should they find her that is enchanted, and turned into the foulest creature that can be? I know not( quoth Sancho) methinks she is the fairest creature in the world, at least I know well, that for her nimbleness and leaping, 
A good mistake.  shee'll give no advantage to a Tumbler: In good faith, my Lady duchess, shee leaps from the ground vpon an ass, as if she were a cat. Haue you seen her enchanted, Sancho, said the Duke? How? seen her?( quoth Sancho) Why, who the devill but I was the first that fell into the trick of her Enchantment? shee is as much Enchanted as my ass?  
The Clergy-man, that heard them talk of giants, elves, and bugbeares, and Enchantments, fell into reckoning, that that was Don Quixote de la Mancha, whose story the Duke ordinarily red, and for which he had diuers times reprehended him, telling him, twas a madness to red such fopperies, and being assured of the certainty which he suspected, speaking to the Duke very angrily, he said: Your Excellency ought to give God Almighty an account for this mans folly. This Don Quixote, or Don Coxe-combe, or how do you call him, I suppose he is not so very an idiot as your Excellency would make him, giuing him ready occasions to proceed in his empty-brain'd madness. And framing his discourse to Don Quixote, he said:  
And who, good-man Dull-pate hath thrust into your brain, that you are a Knight errand, that you overcome giants, and take bugbeares? get you in Gods name, so be it spoken, return to your house, and bring up your children if you haue them, and look to your stock, and leave your ranging thorough the world, blowing bubbles, and making all that know you, or not know you, to laugh. Where haue you ever found with a mischief, that there haue been, or are Knights errand? where any giants in spain? or bugbeares in Mancha? or Enchanted Dulcinea's, with the rest of your troope of simplicities?  
Don Quixote was very attentive to this Venerable mans discourse, and seeing him now silent, without any respect of the Dukes, with an angry countenance, he stood up and said, But his answer deserves a Chapter by itself.   

CHAP. XXXII.  
Of Don Quixotes answer to his Reprehender, with other successses as wise as witty.  
DOn Quixote being thus vpon his legs, and trembling from head to foot, like a man filled with quicksilver, with a hasty and thick voice, said, The place, and Presence before whom I am, and the respect I haue, and always had to men of your Coat, do bind and tie up the hands of my just wrath; so that as well for what I haue said, as for I know, all know that women,& gowned mens weapons are the same, their tongues: I will enter into single combat with you with mine, though I rather expected good counsel from you, then infamous settlings; good and well-meant reprehensions require and ask other circumstances, other points; at least, your public and so bitter reprehensions haue passed all limits, and your gentle ones had been better: neither was it fit that without knowledge of the sin you reprehend, you call the sinner without more ado, coxcomb and idiot. Well, for which of my Coxcombries seen in me, do you condemn and revile me, and command me home to my own house, to look to the governing of it, my wife and children, without knowing whether I haue any of these? Is there no more to be done, but in a hurry to enter other mens houses, to rule their owners? nay one that hath been a poor Pedagogue, or hath not seen more world then twenty miles about him, to meddle so roundly to give laws to chivalry, and to judge of Knights errand? Is it happily a vain plot, or time ill spent, to range thorough the world, not seeking it's dainties, but the bitterness of it, whereby good men aspire to the seat of immortality? If your Knights, your Gallants, or Gentlemen should haue called me Cox-comb, I should haue held it for an affront irreparable: but that your poor Schollers account me a madman, that never trod the paths of Knight Errantry, I care not a chip; a Knight I am, a Knight Ile die, if it please the most Highest. Some go by the spacious field of proud ambition, others by the way of serui●… and base flattery, a third sort by deceitful hypocrisy, and few by that of true Religion: But I by my stars inclination go in the narrow path of Knight-Errantry; for whose exercise I despise wealth, but not honor. I haue satisfied grievances, rectified wrongs, chastised insolences, overcome giants, trampled over spirits; I am enamoured, onely because there is a necessity Knights errand should bee so, and though I be so, yet I a●… not of those vicious amourists, but of your chased Platonicks▪ My intentions always aim at a good end, as, to do good to 〈◇〉 men,& hurt to none: If he that understands this, if he that performs it, that practiseth it, deserve to be called fool, let your Greatnesses judge, excellent Duke and duchess.  
Well, I aduise you( quoth Sancho) Master mine, speak 〈◇〉 more in your own behalf, for there is no more to bee said, 〈◇〉 more to be thought, no more perseucting in the world: besides▪ this signor, denying as he hath done, that there neither is, n●… hath been Knight errand in the world, no marvell though h●… knows not what he hath said. Are you trow( quoth the Clergy man) that Pansa, whom they say your Master hath promised an island? mary am I( said he) and I am he that deserves it, as well as any other, and I am he that 
He blunders out proverbs as usually to no purpose, which is Sancho's parts alwares.  keep company with good men, and thou shalt be as good as they: and I am one of those that: Not with whom thou wert bread, but with whom thou hast fed: and of those that: lean to a good three, and it will shadow thee: I haue learned to my Master, and it is many moneths since I haue kept him company, and I am his other self. If God please, live he, and I shall live, he shall not want Empires to command, nor I Islands to govern.  
No surely, friend Sancho, strait, said the Duke, for I in signor Don Quixote's name, will give thee an odd one of mine, of no small worth. kneel down, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote,& kiss his Excellencies foot, for the favour he hath done thee: which Sancho did: but when the Cleargy-man saw this, he rose up unsuccessful angry, saying; By my holy Order, I am about to say, Your Excellency is as mad as one of these sinners, and see if they must not needs be mad, when wise men canonize their madness; your Excellency may do well to stay with them, for whilst they be here, Ile get me home and save a labour of correcting what I cannot amend, and without any more ado, leaving the rest of his dinner, he went away, the Duke& the duchess not being able to pacify him, though the Duke said not much to him, as being hindered with laughter at his unseasonable choler.  
When he had ended his laughter, he said to Don Quixote, Sir Knight of the lions, you haue answered so deeply for yourself, that you left nothing unsatisfied to this your grievance, which though it seem to be one, yet is not; for as women haue not the power to wrong, neither haue Church-men, as you best know. T'is true( quoth Don Quixote) the cause is, that he who cannot be wronged, can do no wrong to any body; women, children, and Churchmen, as they cannot defend themselves, when they are offended, so they cannot suffer an affront and a grievance, there is this difference( as your Excellency best knows: The affront comes from one that may do it, and be able to make it good, the grievance may come from either party without affronting. For example. One stands carelessly in the street, some ten men come armed, and bastonadoing him, he claps hand to his sword, and doth his deuoir: but the multitude of his assailants hinder him of his purpose, which is to bee revenged; this man is wronged, but not affronted, and this shal be confirmed by another example. One stands with his back turned, another comes and strikes him, and when he hath done, runs away, th'other follows, but ouertakes him not: he that received the blow, is wronged, but not affronted, because the affront ought to haue been maintained: if he that strooke him( though he did it basely) stand still and face his enemy, then he that was strooke is wronged and affronted both together: wronged, because he was strooke cowardly; affronted, because he that strooke him, stood still to make good what he had done: and so according to the laws of cursed Duel, I may be wronged, but not affronted; for children nor women haue no apprehension, neither can they fly, nor ought to stand still: and so is it with the Religious; for these kindes of people want arms offensive and defensive, so that though they be naturally bound to defend themselves, yet they are not to offend any body: and though even now I said I was wronged, I saw now I am not; for he that can receive no affront, can give none: for which causes I haue no reason to resent, nor do I, the words that that good man gave me; onely I could haue wished he had stayed a little, that I might haue let him see his error, in saying or thinking there haue been no Knights errand in the world; for if Amadis had heard this, or one of those infinite numbers of his lineage, I know it had not gone well with his Worship.  
Ile swear that( quoth Sancho) they would haue given him a slash, that should haue cleaved him from head to foot, like a Pomegranate, or a ripe musk Melon; they were pretty Youths to suffer such jests. By my Hōlidam, I think certainly if Renaldos de Montalnan had heard these speeches from the poor knave, he had bung'd up his mouth that he should not haue spoken these three yeeres; I, I, he should haue dealt with them, and see how he would haue scaped their hands.  
The duchess was ready to burst with laughter at Sancho, and to her mind, she held him to be more conceited, and madder then his Master, and many at that time were of this opinion.  
Finally, Don Quixote was pacified, and dinner ended, and the cloth being taken away, there came four Damozels, one with a silver basin, the other with an ewer, a third with two fine white Towels, the fourth with her arms tucked up to the middle and in her white hands( for white they were) a white Naples washing ball. Shee with the basin came very mannerly, and set it under Don Quixote's chin, who very silent, and wondering at that kind of ceremony, taking it to bee the custom of the Country, to wash their faces in stead of their hands, he stretched out his face as far as he could,& instantly the ewer began to rain vpon him, and the damosel with the soap ran over his beard apace, raising white flakes of snow, for such were those scowrings, not only vpon his beard, but over all the face and eyes of the obedient Knight, so that he was forced to shut them.  
The Duke and duchess that knew nothing of this, stood expecting what would become of this lavatory. The Barber damosel, when she had soaped him well with her hand, feigned that she wanted more water, and made her with the ewer, to go for it, whilst signor Don Quixote expected; which shee did, and Don Quixote remained one of the strangest pictures to move laughter that could be imagined. All that were present( many in number) beholded him, and as they saw him with a neck half a yard long, more then ordinary swarthy, his eyes shut, and his beard full of soap, it was great marvell, and much discretion, they could forbear laughing. The Damozels of the iest cast down their eyes, not daring to look on their Lords; whose bodies with choler and laughter even tickled again, and they knew not what to do; either to punish the boldness of the girls, or reward them for the pastime they received to see Don Quixote in that manner.  
Lastly, she with the ewer came, and they made an end of washing Don Quixote,& strait she that had the towels, wiped& dried him gently,& all four of them at once making him a low courtesy, would haue gone: but the Duke, because Don Quixote should not fall into the iest) called to the damosel with the basin, saying, Come and wash me too, and see that you haue water enough. The wench, that was wily and careful, came and put the basin under the Duke, as she had done to Don Quixote, and making hast, they washed and scoured him very well, and leaving him dry and clean, making courtesies, they went away. After, it was known that the Duke swore, that if they had not washed him as well as Don Quixote, he would punish them for their lightness, which they discreetly made amends for, with soaping him.  
Sancho marked all the ceremonies of the lavatory, and said to himself; Lord( thought he) if it be the custom in this country to wash the Squires beards, as well as the Knights? for of my soul and conscience I haue need of it, and if they would, to run over me with a razor too.  
What saist thou to thyself, Sancho, said the duchess? I say, Madam,( quoth he) that I haue heard that in other Princes Palaces they use to give water to wash mens hands when the cloth is taken away, but not lye to scour their beards, and therefore I see tis good to live long; to see much; although tis said also, that he that lives long, suffers much, though to suffer one of these Lauatories, is rather pleasure then pain.  
Take no care Sancho, quoth the duchess, for Ile make one of my Damozels wash thee, and if need be, lay thee a bucking. For my beard( quoth Sancho) I should bee glad for the present, for the rest, God will provide hereafter. look you, carver, said the duchess, what Sancho desires, do just as he would haue you. The carver answered, that signor Sancho should be punctually served, and so he went to dinner, and carried Sancho with him, the Dukes and Don Quixote sitting still, and conferring in many and several affairs, but all concerning the practise of arms and Knight Errantry.  
The duchess requested Don Quixote, to delineate and describe unto her( since he seemed to haue a happy memory) the beauty& feature of the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, for according to Fames Trumpet, she thought that shee must needs be the fairest creature in the world, and also of the Mancha.  
Don Quixote sighed at the Duchesses command, and said, If I could take out my heart, and lay it before your Greatnesses eyes, vpon this table in a dish, I would save my tongue a labour to tell you that, which would not be imagined; for in my heart, your Excellency should see her lively depainted: but why should I be put to describe and delineate exactly, piece for piece, each several beauty of the peerless Dulcinea, a burden fitter for other backs then mine; an enterprise, in which the pensils of Parrasius, Timantes, and Apelles, and the tools of Lisippus, should indeed be employed, to paint and carve her in▪ tables of Marble and brass, and Ciceroman and Demosthenian rhetoric to praise her.  
What mean you by your Demosthenian, signor Don Quixote, quoth the duchess? Demosthenian rhetoric( quoth he) is as much to say, as the rhetoric of Demosthenes, as Ciceronian of Cicero, both which were the two greatest Rhetoricians in the world. Tis true( quoth the Duke) and you shewed your ignorance in asking that question: but for all that, Sir Don Quixote might much delight us, if he would paint her out; for Ile warrant, though it bee but in her first draft, shee will appear so well, that the most faire will envy her. I would willingly( said he) if mis-fortune had not blotted out her idea, that not long since besell her, which is such, that I may rather bewail it, then describe her; for your Greatnesses shall understand, that as I went heretofore to haue kissed her hands, and receive her benediction, leave and licence, for this my third sally, I found another manner of one then I looked for, I found her enchanted, and turned from a princess to a Countrey-wench, from faire to foul, from an angel to a devill, from sweet to contagious, from well-spoken to rustic, from modest to skittish, from light to darkness, and finally from Dulcinea deal Toboso, to a Pesantesse of Sayago.  
Now God defend us( quoth the Duke) with a loud voice, who is he that hath done so much hurt to the world? Who hath taken away the beauty that cheered it? the quickness that entertained it? and the honesty that did credit it? Who, said he? who but some cursed Enchanter? one of those many envious ones that persecute me? This wicked race born in the world, to darken and annihilate the exploits of good men, and to give light and raise the deeds of evil. Enchanters haue me persecuted: Enchanters me persecute: and Enchanters will me persecute, till they cast me and my lofty chivalry, into the profound Abisme of forgetfulness, and there they hurt and wound me, where they see I haue most feeling; for to take from a Knight errand, his Lady, is to take away his eye-sight, with which he sees the sun that doth lighten him, and the food that doth nourish him. Oft haue I said, and now I say again, that a Knight errand without a Mistris, is like a three without leaves, like a building without cement, or a shadow without a body, by which it is caused.  
There is no more to be said( quoth the duchess:) but yet if we may give credit to the History of Don Quixote, that not long since came to light, with a general applause, it is said( as I remember) that you never saw Dulcinea, and that there is no such Lady in the world; but that she is a mere fantastical creature engendered in your brain, where you haue painted her with all the graces and perfections that you please.  
Here is much to be said( quoth he?) God knows, if there be a Dulcinea or no in the world, whether she be fantastical, or not: and these be matters, whose justifying must not be so far searched into. Neither haue I engendered or brought forth my Lady, though I contemplate on her, as is fitting, she being a Lady that hath all the parts that may make her famous thorough the whole world: as these; faire, without blemish; grave, without pride; amorous, but honest; thankful, as courteous; courteous, as well-bred: And finally, of high descent; by reason that beauty shines and marcheth vpon her noble blood, in more degrees of perfection, then in meane-borne beauties.  
Tis true( said the Duke:) but Don Quixote must give me leave, to say what the History, where his exploits are written, says; where is inferred, that though there be a Dulcinea in Toboso, or out of it, and that she bee faire in the highest degree, as you describe her, yet in her highnesse of birth shee is not equal to your 
Names of feigned Ladies in books of Knight-hood.  Oriana's, your Alastraxarea's, or your Madasima's, with others of this kind, of which your Histories are full, as you well know. To this I answer you( quoth Don Quixote) Dulcinea is virtuous, and virtue adds to lineage, and one that is mean and virtuous, ought to be more esteemed, then another noble and vicious: besides, Dulcinea hath one shred that may make her queen with crown and sceptre: for the merit of a faire and virtuous woman, extends to do greater miracles, and although not formally, yet virtually shee hath greater fortunes laid up for her.  
I say, signor Don Quixote( quoth the duchess) that in all you speak, you go with your leaden plummet, and, as they say, with your sounding line in your hand, and that hence-forward I will beleeue, and make all in my house beleeue, and my Lord the Duke too, if need be, that there is a Dulcinea in Toboso, and that at this day she lives, that she is faire, and well-borne, and deserves that such a Knight, as Don Quixote, should serve her, which is the most I can, or know how to endear her. But yet I haue one scruple left, and, I know not, some kind of inkling against Sancho: the scruple is, that the History says, that Pansa found the said Lady Dulcinea( when he carried her your Epistle) winnowing a bag of wheat, and for more assurance, that it was read wheat, a thing that makes me doubt of her high birth.  
To which Don Quixote replied: Lady mine, you shall know, that all or the most part of my affairs, are clean different from the ordinary course of other Knights errand, whether they bee directed by the vnscrutable will of the Destinies, or by the malice of some envious Enchanter, and as it is evident, that all, or the most of your famous Knights errand, one hath the favor not to be enchanted; another, to haue his flesh so impenetrable, that he cannot be wounded, as the famous Roldan, one of the twelve peers of France, of whom it was said, that he could not bee wounded, but vpon the sole of his left foot; and that this too must be with the point of a great Pin, and with no other kind of weapon; so that when Bernardo deal Carpio did kill him in Roncesualles, seeing he could not wound him with his sword, he lifted him in his arms from ground, and stisted him, as mindful of the death that Hercules gave Anteon, that horrid giant, that was said to be the son of the earth. From all this I infer, that it might be I might haue had some of these favours, as not to be wounded; for many times, experience hath taught me, that my flesh is soft and penetrable, or that I might haue the power not to be enchanted; but yet I haue seen myself clapped in a cage, where all the world was not able to enclose me, had it not been by virtue of Enchantments; but since I was free, I shall beleeue that no other can hinder me: So that these Enchanters, who see, that vpon me they cannot use their sleights, they reuenge themselves vpon the things I most affect, and mean to kill me, by ill-intreating Dulcinea, by whom I live: and so I beleeue, that when my Squire carried my embassage, they turned her into a peasant, to bee employed in so base an office, as winnowing of wheat: but I say, that wheat was neither read, nor wheat; but seeds of oriental pearls, and for proof of this, let me tell your Magnitudes, that coming a while since by Toboso, I could never find Dulcinea's Palace; and Sancho, my Squire, having seen her before in her own shape, which is the fairest in the world, to me she then seemed a foul course Country-wench, and meanly nurtured, being the very Discretion of the world: And since I am not enchanted, neither can I be in all likelihood, she is she that is enchanted, grieved, turned, chopped and changed, and my enemies haue revenged themselves on me in her, and for her I must live in perpetual sorrow, till shee come to her pristine being.  
All this haue I spoken, that no body may stand vpon what Sancho said, of that sifting and winnowing of hers: for since to me she was changed, no marvell though for him shee were exchanged. Dulcined is nobly born,& of the best blood in Toboso, of which, I warrant, she hath no small part in her:& for her, that town shall be famous in after-ages, as Troy for heal, and spain for 
Daughter to an earl, that betrayed spain to the Moores. Vide Marian. Hist. de Reb. Hisp.  Caua, though with more honour and reputation: On the other side, I would haue your Lordships know, that Sancho Pansa is one of the prettiest Squires that ever served Knight errand: sometimes he hath such sharp simplicities, that to think whether he be fool or Kuaue, causeth no sinal content: he hath malice enough to be a knave; but more ignorance to bee thought a fool; he doubts of every thing, and yet believes all: when I think sometimes he will tumble headlong to the foot, he comes out with some kind of discretion that lifts him to the clouds.  
Finally, I would not change him for any other Squire, though I might haue a City to boot; therefore I doubt, whether it bee good to sand him to the government, that your greatness hath bestowed on him, though I see in him a certain sitnesse for this you call governing; for, trimming his understanding but a very little, he would proceed with his government, as well as the King with his customs: besides, wee know by experience, that a governor needs not much learning, or other abilities: for you haue a hundred, that scarce can red a word, and yet they govern like Ier-Falcons: the business is, that their meaning be good, and to hit the matter aright they undertake; for they shall not want counsellors, to teach them what they shall do, as your Gouernours that be Sword-men, and not Schollers, that haue their Assistants to direct them. My counsel should bee to him: That neither bribe he take, nor his due forsake, and some other such toys as these, that I haue within me, and shall bee declared at fit time to Sancho's profit, and the islands which he shall govern.  
To this point of their discourse came the Duke, duchess, and Don Quixote, when strait they heard a great noise of people in the Palace: and Sancho came in, into the Hall, unlooked for, all in a maze, with a strainer in stead of a Bib, and after him many Lads, or to say better, Scullions of the kitchen, and other inferior people,& one came with a little kneading tub with water, that seemed, by the colour and sluttishnesse, to bee dish-water, who followed and persecuted Sancho, and sought by all means to join the vessel to his chin, and another would haue washed him.  
What's the matter, Hoe( quoth the duchess?) Wh 〈…〉 ye to this honest man? What? do ye not know 〈…〉uernour-Elect? To which the Barber-Scullion rep 〈…〉 Gentle-man will not suffer himself to bee washed, acco 〈…〉 the custom, as my Lord the Duke, and his Master were. Yes mary will I( said Sancho) in a great huffe: but I would haue cleaner towels, and clearer suds, and not so sluttish hands; for there is no such difference between my Master and me, that they should wash him with rose-water, and me with the devils lye: the customs of great mens Palaces are so much the better, by how little trouble they cause: but your lavatory custom here, is worse then Penitentiaries, my beard is clean, and I need no such refreshing; and he that comes to wash me, or touch a hair of my head( of my beard, I say) sir-reuerence of the company, Ile give him such a box, that Ile set my fist in his skull; for these kind of ceremonies and soape-layings, are rather flouts, then entertainers of guests.  
The duchess was ready to die with laughter, to see Sancho's choler, and to hear his reasons; but Don Quixote was not very well pleased to see him so ill dressed with his iasperd to well, and hemmed in by so many of the kitchen Pensioners; so making a low leg to the Dukes, as if he intended to speak, with a grave voice he spoken to the skoundrels:  
hark, ye Gentlemen, pray let the Youth alone, and get you gone as ye came, if you please, for my Squire is as cleanly as another, and these troughs are as strait and close for him, as your little read day drinking cups: take my counsel and leave him, for neither he nor I can abide jests. Sancho caught his words out of his mouth, and went on, saying; No, let vm come to make sport with the setting dog, and Ile let vm alone, as sure as it is now night; let vm bring a comb hither, or what they will, and cury my beard, and if they find any thing foul in it, let vm shear me to fitters. Then quoth the duchess( unable to leave laughing) Sancho says well, he is clean, as he says, and needs no washing: and if our custom please him not, let him take his choice, besides, you ministers of cleanliness haue been very slack and careless, I know not whether I may say, presumptuous, to bring to such a parsonage and such a beard, in stead of a basin& ewer of pure gold, and Diaper towels, your kneading-troughes and dish-clouts; but you are vnmannerly rascals, and like wicked wretches must needs show the grudge you bear to the Squires of Knights errand.  
The rascal regiment, together with the carver that came with them, thought verily the duchess was in earnest: so they took the siue-cloth from Sancho's neck,& even ashamed went their ways, and left him, who seeing himself out of that( as he thought) great danger, kneeled before the duchess, saying, From great Ladies, great favours are still expected, this that your worship hath now done me, cannot be recompensed with less, then to desire to see myself an armed Knight errand, to employ myself all daies of my life in the service of so high a Lady. I am a poor Husbandman, my name is Sancho Pansa, children I haue, and serve as a Squire, if in any of these I may serve your greatness, I will be swifter in obeying, then your ladyship in commanding.  
Tis well seen, Sancho, quoth the duchess, that you haue learnt to be courteous in the very school of courtesy: I mean, it seems well, that you haue been nursed at Don Quixote's breast, who is the cream of compliment, and the flower of ceremonies: well fare such a Master, and such a Seruant; the one for north-star of Knight Errantry, the other for the star of Squire-like fidelity: Rise, friend Sancho, for I will repay your courtesy, in making my Lord the Duke as soon as he can, perform the promise he hath made you, of being governor of the island.  
With this, their discourse ceased, and Don Quixote went to his after-noones sleep, and the duchess desired Sancho, that if he were not very sleepy, he would pass the afternoon with her and her Damozels in a cool room. Sancho answered, that though true it were, that he was used in the afternoons to take a some five houres nap, yet to do her goodness service, he would do what he could, not to take any that day, and would obey her command: so he partend.  
The Duke gave fresh order for Don Quixote's usage, to be like a Knight errand, without differing a jot from the ancient style of those Knights.   

CHAP. XXXIII.  
Of the wholesome discourse that passed betwixt the duchess and her Damozels with Sancho Pansa, worthy to be red and noted.  
WEll the story tells us, that Sancho slept not that day, but according to his promise, came, when he had dined, to see the duchess, who for the delight shee received to hear him, made him sit down by her in a low chair, though Sancho, out of pure mannerlinesse would not ●… t: but the duchess bade him sit as he was governor, and speak as he was Squire, though in both respects he deserved the very seat of Cid Ruydiaz the Champion.  
Sancho 
The Spaniards lousy humility.  shrunk up his shoulders, obeied and sate down, and all the Duchesses Waiting-women and Damozels stood round about her, attending with great silence to Sancho's discourse: but the duchess spake first, saying;  
Now that we are all alone,& that no body hears us, I would, signor governor would resolve me of certain doubts I haue, arising from the printed History of the grand Don Quixote, one of which is, that since honest Sancho never saw Dulcinea, I say, the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, neither carried her Don Quixotes letter for it remained in the note-booke in Sierra Morena, how he durst feign the answer, and that he found her sifting of wheat; this being a mock and a lie, and so prejudicial to the Lady Dulcinea's reputation, and so vnbefitting the condition and fidelity of a faithful Squire.  
Here Sancho rose without answering a word,& softly crooking his body, and with his finger vpon his lips, he went up and down the room, lifting up the hangings: which done, he came and sate down again and said, Now I see, Madam that nobody lies in wait to hear us, besides the by-standers, I will answer you without fear or fright, all that you haue asked, and all that you will ask me And first of all I say, that I hold my Master Don Quixote, for an incurable madman, though sometimes he speaks things, that, in my opinion, and so in all theirs that hear him, are so discreet, and carried in so even a track, that the devill himself cannot speak better; but truly and without scruple, I take him to be a very frantic; for so I haue it in my mazzard, I dare make him beleeue that, that hath neither head nor foot, as was the answer of that letter, and another thing that happened some eight dayes ago, which is not yet in print, to wit, the Enchantment of my Lady Dulcinea; for I made him beleeue she is enchanted, it being as true, as the moon is made of green cheese.  
The duchess desired him to tell her that Enchantment and conceit: which he did, just as it passed: at which the hearers were not a little delighted. And prosecuting her discourse, the duchess said, I haue one scruple leaps in my mind, touching what Sancho hath  told me, and a certain buzz coming to mine ears, that tells me; If Don Quixote de la Mancha be such a shallow mad-man and Widgin, and Sancho Pansa his Squire know it; yet why for all that, he serves and follows him, and relies on his vain promises; doubtless, he is as very a Mad-man and Block-head, as his Master, which being so as it is, it will bee very unfitting for my Lord the Duke, to give Sancho an island to govern; for he that cannot govern himself, will ill govern others.  
By'r Lady( quoth Sancho) that scruple comes in pudding-time: but bid your buzz speak plain, or how he will; for I know he says true; and if I had been wise, I might long since haue left my Master: but twas my lucke, and this vilde Errantry, I cannot do withall, I must follow him, wee are both of one place, I haue eaten his bread, I love him well, he is thankful, he gave me the Asse-colts, and above all, I am faithful, and it is impossible any chance should part us, but death: and if your Altitude will not bestow the government on me, with less was I born, and perhaps, the missing it might bee better for my conscience; for though I be a fool, yet I understand the proverb that says, The Ant had wings to do her hurt, and it may bee, Sancho the Squire may sooner go to heaven, then Sancho the governor. here is as good bread made, as in France; and in the night Iono is as good as my Lady; and unhappy is that man, that is to break his fast at two of the clock in the afternoon; and there's no heart a handful bigger then another; and the stomach is filled with the coursest victuals; and the little Fowles in the air, haue God for their provider and Cater; and four yards of course Cuenca cloth, keep a man as warm, as four of fine 
Their Lemster breed came first out of England.  Lemster wool of Segouia; and when wee once leave this world, and are put into the earth, the Prince goes in as narrow a path as the journeyman; and the Popes body takes up no more room then a Sextons, though the one be higher then the other; for when we come to the pit, all are even, or made so in spite of their teethes, and goodnight.  
Let me say again, If your Lady-ship will not give me the island, as I am a fool, Ile refuse it, for being a wise-man: for I haue heard say, The nearer the Church, the further from God; and, All is not gold that glistreth; and that from the oxen, plough and yokes, the Husband-man Bamba was chosen for King of spain: and that Rodrigo, from his tissues, sports, and riches, was cast out to be eaten by snakes( if we may beleeue the rhymes of the old Romants, that lie not.)  
Why, no more they do not( said Donna Rodriguez, the waiting-woman, that was one of the auditors) for you haue one Romant that says, that Don Rodrigo was put alive into a tomb full of toads, Snakes, and Lizards, and some two dayes after, from within the tomb, he cried with a low and pitiful voice, Now they eat, now they eat me in the place where I sinned most: and according to this, this man hath reason to say, he had rather be a Labourer then a King, to bee eaten to death with vermin.  
The duchess could not forbear laughing, to see the simplicity of her woman, nor to admire to hear Sancho's proverbial reasons, to whom she said; Honest Sancho knows, that when a Gentle-man once makes a promise, he will perform it; though it cost him his life. My Lord and Husband the Duke, though he be no errand, yet he is a Knight, and so he will accomplish his promise of the iceland, in spite of envy or the worlds malice. Be of good cheer, Sancho; for when thou least dreamest of it, thou shalt be seated in the chair of thy island,& of Estate, and shalt clasp thy government in thy robes of Tissue. All that I charge thee, is, that you look to the governing your vassals, for you must know, they are all well-borne and loyal.  
For governing( quoth Sancho) there's no charging me; for I am naturally charitable and compassionate to the poor, and of him that does well they will not speak ill, and by my Holidam they shall play me no false play: I am an old dog,& understand all their Hist, hist: and I can snuff myself when I see time, and I will let no cobwebs fall in my eyes, for I know where my shoo wrings me: this I say, because honest men shall haue hand and heart, but wicked men neither foot nor fellowship. And methinks for matter of government, there is no more but to begin, and in fifteen daies governor, I could manage the place, and know as well to govern, as to labour, in which I was bred. You haue reason, Sancho, quoth the duchess, for no man is born wise, and Bishops are made of men, and not of stones. But turning to our discourse that wee had touching the Lady Dulcinea's Enchantment, I am more then assured, that that imagination that Sancho had to put a trick vpon his Master, and to make him think the Country wench was Dulcinea, that if his Master knew her not, all was invented by some of those Enchanters that persecute signor Don Quixote; for I know partly, that that Country wench that leaped vpon the Assecolt, was, and is Dulcinea, and Sancho thinking to be the deceiver, is himself deceived; and there is no more to be doubted in this, then in things that we never saw: and know, Sancho, that here we haue our Enchanters too, that love, and tell us plainly and truly, what passeth in the world, without tricks or devices; and beleeue me, Sancho, that leaping wench was, and is Dulcinea, who is enchanted as the Mother that brought her forth, and when we least think of it, we shall see her in her proper shape, and then Sancho will think he was deceived.  
All this may be( quoth Sancho) and now will I beleeue all that my Master  told me of Montesino's cave, where he said he saw our mistress Dulcinea, in the same apparel and habit, that I said I had seen her in, when I enchanted her at my pleasure; and it may be, Madam, all is contrary( as you say) for from my rude wit, it could not be presumed that I should in an instant make such a witty lie; neither do I beleeue that my Master is so mad, that with so poor& weak a persuasion as mine, he should beleeue a thing so incredible: but for all that, good Lady, do not think me to be so malevolent, for such a soldier-like as I am, is not bound to boar into the thoughts and maliciousness of most wicked Enchanters. I feigned that, to scape from my Masters threats, and not with any purpose to hurt him, and if it fell out otherwise, God is above that iudgeth all harts. Tis true, said the duchess, but tell me, Sancho, what is that you said of Montesinos cave? I should be glad to hear it. Then Sancho began to tell word for word, all that passed in that adventure. Which when the duchess heard, shee said, Out of this success may be inferred, that since the Grand Don Quixote says that he saw there the same labouring wench that Sancho saw at their coming from Toboso, without doubt it is Dulcinea, and that in this the Enchanters here are very listening and wary. This I said( quoth Sancho) that if my Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso be enchanted, at her peril bee it, for Ile haue nothing to do with my Masters Enemies, who are many, and bad ones. True it is, that she that I saw was a Country wench,& so I held her,& so I judged her to be;& if that were Dulcinea, Ile not meddle with her, neither shall the Blowze pass vpon my account. I, I, let's haue giuing& taking every foot. Sancho said it, Sancho did it, Sancho turned, Sancho return'd, as if Sancho were a dish-clout,& not the same Sancho Pansa that is now in Print all the world over, as Samson Carrasco  told me, who at least is one that is Bachelorized in Salamanca, and such men cannot lie, but when they list, or that it much concerns them: so there is no reason any man should deal with me, since I haue a good report, and as I haue heard my Master say, Better haue an honest name then much wealth. Let vm join me to this government, and they shall see wonders: for he that hath been a good Squire, will easily be a good governor.  
whatsoever Sancho hitherto hath said( quoth the duchess) is Catonian sentences, or at least taken out of the very entrails of Michael Verinus, Florentibus occidit annis. Well, well, to speak as thou dost, a bad cloak often hides a good drinker. Truly Madam, said Sancho, I never drunk excessively in my life, to quench my thirst sometimes I haue, for I am no hypocrite, I drink when I am dry, and when I am urged too, for I love not to be nice or vnmannerly; for what heart of marble is there, that will not pledge a friends carouse? but though I take my cup, I go not away drunk: besides, your Knight Errants Squires ordinarily drink water, for they always travell by Forrests, Woods, meadows, Mountaines, cragy rocks, and meet not with a pittance of wine, though they would give an eye for it.  
I beleeue it, said the duchess, and now, Sancho, thou mayst repose thyself, and after we will talk at large, and give order how thou mayst be joined, as thou saist, to the government.  
Sancho again gave the duchess thankes, but desired her she would do him the kindness, that his Dapple might bee well looked to. What Dapple( quoth shee?) My ass( said Sancho) for not to call him so, I say my Dapple: and when I came into the Castle, I desired this waiting woman to haue a care on him, and she grew so loud with me, as if I called her ugly or old, for I held it fitter for them to provender Asses, then to authorize rooms: Lord God, a Gentleman of my town could not endure these waiting women. Some peasant, quoth Donna Rodriguez the waiting woman; for if he had been a Gentleman, and well bred, he would haue extolled them above the moon. go too, no more( quoth the duchess) Peace Rodriguez, and be quiet, Sancho, and let me alone to see that Sancho's ass bee made much of; for being Sancho's householdstuff, I will hold him on the apple of mine eyes. Let him be in the stable( quoth Sancho) for neither he nor I am worthy to be so much as a minute vpon those apple of your greatness eyes, and I had as lief stab myself, as consent to that; for although my master says, that in courtesies one should rather lose by a carded too much, then too little; yet in these Asse-like courtesies, and in your apple, it is fit to bee wary and proceed with discretion. Carry him Sancho( quoth the duchess) to thy government, for there thou mayst cherish him at thy pleasure, and manumit him from his labour. do not think you haue spoken iestingly, Lady duchess,( quoth Sancho) for I haue seen more then two Asses go to governments, and 'twould be no novelty for me to carry mine.  
Sancho's discourse renewed in the duchess more laughter and content, and sending him to repose, shee went to tell the Duke all that had passed between them, and both of them plotted and gave order, to put a iest vpon Don Quixote that might be a famous one, and suiting to his Knightly style, in which kind they played many pranks with him, so proper and handsome, that they are the best contained amongst all the adventures of this Grand History.   

CHAP. XXXIV.  
How notice is given for the dis-enchanting of the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso, which is one of the most famous adventures in all this book.  
GReat was the pleasure the Duke and duchess received with Don Quixote and Sancho Pansa's conversation, and they resolved to play some tricks with them, that might carry some twi-lights and appearances of adventures. They took for a motive that which Don Quixote had  told unto them of Montesinos cave, because they would haue it a famous one: but that which the duchess most admired at, was, that Sancho's simplicity should be so great, that he should beleeue for an infallible truth, that Dulcinea was enchanted, he himself having been the Enchanter, and the Impostor of that business: So giuing order to their seruants for all they would haue done, some week after they carried Don Quixote to a Boare-hunting, with such a troope of wood-men and hunters, as if the Duke had been a crwoned King. They gave Don Quixote a hunters suit, and to Sancho one of finest green cloth: but Don Quixote would not put on his, saying; That shortly he must return again to the hard exercise of arms, and that therfore he could carry no Wardrobes or Sumpters. But Sancho took his, meaning to sell it with the first occasion offered.  
The wished for-day being come, Don Quixote armed himself, and Sancho clad himself, and vpon his Dapple,( for he would not leave him, though they had given him a horse) thrust himself amongst the troope of the Wood men. The duchess was bravely attired, and Don Quixote out of pure courtesy and manners, took the reins of her Palfrey, though the Duke would not consent: at last they came to a wood that was between two high mountaines, where taking their stands, their lanes and paths, and the hunters divided into several stands, the chase began with great noise, hooting and hollowing, so that one could scarce hear another, as well for the cry of the dogges, as for the sound of the horns. The duchess alighted, and with a sharp javelin in her hand, shee took a stand, by which she knew some wild boars were used to pass. The Duke also alighted and Don Quixote, and stood by her. Sancho stayed behind them all, but stirred not from Dapple, whom he durst not leave, lest some ill chance should befall him, and they had scarce lighted, and set themselves in order with some seruants, when they saw there came a huge boar by them, baited with the dogges, and followed by the hunters, gnashing his teeth& tusks, and foaming at the mouth: and Don Quixote seeing him, buckling his shield to him: and laying hand on his sword, went forward to encounter him, the like did the Duke with his javelin; but the duchess would haue been foremost of all, if the Duke had not stopped her. Onely Sancho, when he saw the valiant Beast, left Dapple, and began to scudde as fast as he could, and strining to get up into a high oak, it was not possible for him, but being even in the midst of it, fastened to a bough, and striving to get to the top, he was so unlucky and unfortunate, that the bough broken, and as he was tumbling to the ground, he hung in the air fastened to a suagge of the oak, unable to come to the ground, and seeing himself in that perplexity, and that his green coat was torn, and thinking, that if that field beast should come thither, he might lay hold on him, he began to cry out and call for help so outrageously, that all that heard him, and saw him not, thought verily some wild beast was devouring him.  
Finally, the Tuskie boar was laid along, with many iauelins points, and Don Quixote turning aside to Sancho's noise, that knew him by his note, he saw him hanging on the oak, and his head downward, and Dapple close by him, that never left him in all his calamity, and Cid Hamete says, that he seldom saw Sancho without Dapple, or Dapple without Sancho, such was the love and friendship betwixt the couple.  
Don Quixote went and vnhung Sancho, who seeing himself free, and on the ground, beholded the torn place of his hunting suit, and it grieved him to the soul, for he thought he had of that suit at least an inheritance. And now they laid the boar athwart vpon a great Mule, and covering him with Rosemary bushes, and Myrtle boughs, he was carried in sign of their victorious spoils, to a great field-Tent, that was set up in the midst of the wood, where the Tables were set in order, and a dinner made ready, so plentiful and well dressed, that it well shewed the bounty and magnificence of him that gave it.  
Sancho, showing the wounds of his torn garment to the duchess, said, If this had been hunting of the Hare, my coat had not seen itself in this extremity: I know not what pleasure there can be in looking for a beast, that if he reach you with a tuske, he may kill you: I haue often heard an old song, that says, Of the bears mayst thou be eat; as was Fauila the great. He was a Gothish King( quoth Don Quixote) that going a hunting in the mountaines, a bear eat him. This I say( said Sancho) I would not that Kings and Princes should thrust themselves into such dangers, to enjoy their pleasure; for what pleasure can there be to kill a beast that hath committed no fault?  
You are in the begging, Sancho, quoth the Duke; for the exercise of beast-hunting is the necessariest for Kings and Princes that can bee. The chase is a show of war, where there be stratagems, crafts, deceits, to overcome the enemy at pleasure; in it you haue sufferings of could and intolerable heats, sleep and idleness are banished, the powers are corroborated, the members agilitated. In conclusion, tis an exercise that may be used without prejudice to any body, and to the pleasure of every body, and the best of it is, that it is not common, as other kindes of sports are, except flying at the fowle, onely fit for Kings and Princes. Therefore ( Sancho) change thy opinion, and when thou art a governor, follow the chase, and thou shalt be a hundred times the better.  
Not so, quoth Sancho, tis better for your governor, to haue his legs broken, and be at home: twere very good that poor suitors should come and seek him, and he should be taking his pleasure in the woods: 'twould bee a sweet government i'faith. Good saith sir, the Chase and Pastimes are rather for idle companions then Gouernours: My sport shall be vied trump at Christmas, and at Skettle pings sundays and holidays; for your hunting is not for my condition, neither doth it agree with my conscience.  
Pray God, Sancho it be so( quoth the Duke) for to do and to say, go a several way. Let it be how 'twill,( said Sancho) for a good paymaster needs no pledge, and Gods help is better then early rising, and the belly carries the legs, and not the legs the belly; I mean, that if God help me, and I do honestly what I ought, without doubt I shall govern as well as a Ier-Falcon, I, I, put your finger in my mouth, and see if I bite or no.  
A mischief on thee, cursed Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, and when shall wee hear thee( as I haue often  told thee) speak a wise speech, without a proverb? My Lords, I beseech you leave this: Dunce, for he will grind your very souls, not with his two, but his two thousand proverbs, so seasonable, as such be his health or mine, if I harken to them.  
Sancho's proverbs( quoth the duchess) although they bee more then Mallaras, yet they are not less to be esteemed then his, for their sententious brevity. For my part, they more delight me then others, that bee far better, and more fitting.  
With these& such like savoury discourses, they went out of the tent to the wood, to seek some more sport, and the day was soon past, and the night came on, and not so light and calm as the time of the year required, it being about Mid-summer: but a certain dismalnesse it had, agreeing much with the Dukes intention, and so as it grew to be quiter dark, it seemed that vpon a sudden, all the wood was on fire, thorough every part of it, and there were heard here and there, this way and that way, an infinite company of Cornets, and other warlike instruments, and many troops of horse that passed thorough the wood; the light of the fire, and the sound of the warlike instruments, did as it were blind, and stunned the eyes and ears of the by-standers, and of all those that were in the wood. strait they heard a company of 
L 〈…〉, Lik●●… e cries of the wild Irish.  Moorish cries, such as they use when they join battle, Drums and Trumpets sounded, and Fifes, all, as it were, in an instant, and so fast, that he that had had his sences, might haue lost them, with the confused sound of these instruments.  
The Duke was astonished, the duchess dismayed, Don Quixote wondered, Sancho trembled: And finally, even they that knew the occasion, were frighted: their fear caused a general silence, and a Post in a devils weed passed before them, sounding, in stead of a Cornet, a huge hollow horn, that made a hoarse and terrible noise. hark you, Post, quoth the Duke, What are you? Whither go you? And what men of war are they that cross over the wood? To which the Post answered, with a horrible and free voice; I am the devill, I go to seek Don Quixote de la Mancha, and they which come here, are six troops of Enchanters, that bring the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso vpon a triumphant Chariot, she comes here enchanted with the brave French man Montesinos, to give order to Don Quixote, how she may be dis-enchanted.  
If thou wert a devill, as thou sayest( quoth the Duke) and as thy shape shows thee to bee, thou wouldst haue known that Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha: for he is here before thee. In my soul and conscience( quoth the devill) I thought not on it; for I am so diverted with my several cogitations, that I quiter forgot the chief, for which I came for. certainly( said Sancho) this devill is an honest fellow, and a good Christian; for if he were not, he would not haue sworn by his soul and conscience: And now I beleeue, that in Hell you haue honest men. strait the devill, without lighting, directing his sight toward Don Quixote, said; The unlucky, but valiant Knight Montesinos, sends me to thee, O Knight of the lions( for me thinks now I see thee in their paws) commanding me to tell thee from him, that thou expect him here, where he will meet thee; for he hath with him Dulcinea deal Toboso, and means to give thee instruction, how thou shalt dis-enchant her;& now I haue done my message, I must away, and the devils( like me) be with thee: and good Angels guard the rest. And this said, he winds his monstrous horn, and turned his back, and went, without staying for any answer.  
Each one began afresh to admire, especially Sancho and Don Quixote. Sancho, to see that in spite of truth, Dulcinea must bee enchanted: Don Quixote, to think whether that were true that befell him in Montesino's cave, and being elevated in these dumps, the Duke said to him; Will you stay, signor Don Quixote? Should I not, quoth he? here will I stay courageous and undaunted, though all the devils in Hell should close with me. Well( quoth Sancho) if I hear another devill and another horn, I'll stay in Flanders as much as here.  
Now it grew darker, and they might perceive many lights up and down the wood, like the dry exhalations of the earth in the sky, that seem to us to be shooting-stars: besides, there was a terrible noise heard, just like that of your creaking wheels of Oxe-waines, from whose piercing squeake( they say) bears and wolves do fly, if there be any the way they pass. To this tempest, there was another added, that increased the rest, which was, that it seemed, that in all four parts of the wood, there were four encounters or battels in an instant: for there was first a sound of terrible cannon-shot, and an infinite company of Guns were discharged, and the voices of the Combatants seemed to bee heard by and by a far off, the Moorish cries reiterated.  
Lastly, the Trumpets, Cornets,& horns, Drums, Canons, and Guns, and above all, the fearful noise of the Carts, all together made a most confused& horrid sound, which tried Don Quixotes uttermost courage, to suffer it: but Sancho was quiter gone, and fell in a swoon vpon the Duchesses coats, who received him,& commanded they should cast could water in his face; which done, he came to himself, just as one of the Carts of those whistling wheels came to the place, four lazy Oxen drew it, covered with black clothes; at every horn they had a lighted Torch tied, and on the top of the Cart there was a high seat made, vpon which a venerable old man sate, with a beard as white as snow, and so long, that it reached to his girdle: his garment was a long gown of black buckoram; for because the Cart was full of lights, all within it might very well bee discerned and seen: two ugly spirits guided it, clad in the said buckoram, so monstrous, that Sancho, after he had seen them, winked, because he would see vm no more: when the Cart drew near to their standing, the venerable old man rose from his seat, and standing up with a loud voice, said; I am the wise Lyrgander: and the Cart passed on, he not speaking a word more.  
After this, there passed another Cart in the same manner with another old man inthronized; who making the Cart stay, with a voice no less lofty then the other, said; I am the wise Alquife, great friend to the ungrateful Vrganda; and on he went: and strait another Cart came on, the same place; but he that sate in the chief seat, was no old man( as the rest) but a good robustious fellow, and ill-favoured, who when he came near, rose up, as the rest; but with a voice more hoarse and devilish said; I am Archelaus the Enchanter, mortal enemy to Amadis de Gaulo, and all his kindred: And so on he passed, all three of these Carts turning a little forward, made a stand, and the troublesone noise of their wheels ceased, and strait there was heard no noise, but a sweet and consenting sound of well-formed music, which comforted Sancho, and he held it for a good sign, and he said thus to the duchess, from whom he stirred not a foot, not a jot.  
Madam, where there is music, there can bee no ill. Neither ( quoth the duchess) where there is light and brightness. To which( said Sancho) the fire gives light, and your bon-fires( as wee see) and perhaps might burn us: but music is always a sign of feasting and jollity. You shall see that( quoth Don Quixote) for he heard all, and he said well, as you shall see in the next chapter.   

CHAP. XXXV.  
Where is prosecuted the notice, that Don Quixote had, of dis-enchanting Dulcinea with other admirable accidents.  
WHen the delightful music was ended, they might see one of those you call triumphant chariots come towards them, drawn by six dun Mules, but covered with white linen, and vpon each of them came a Penitentiary with a Torch, clothed likewise all in white: the Cart was twice or thrice as big as the three former, and at the top and sides of it, were twelve other Penitentiaries, as white as snow, all with their torches lighted, a sight that admired and astonished jointly: and in a high throne sate a Nymph, clad in a vail of cloth of silver, a world of golden spangles glimmering about her, her face was covered with a fine cloth of Tiffany, for all whose wrinkles the face of a most delicate damosel was seen thorough it, and the many lights, made them easily distinguish her beauty and yeeres, which( in likelihood) came not to twenty, nor were under seventeen: Next her came a shape, clad in a gown of those you call Side-garments, down to her foot, her head was covered with a black veil: but even as the Cart came to bee just ouer-against the Dukes and Don Quixote, the music of the Hoboyes ceased, and the Harps and Lutes that came in the Cart began, and the gowned shape rising up, unfolding her garment on both sides, and taking her vail off from her head, shee discovered plainly the picture of raw-boned Death, at which Don Quixote was troubled, and Sancho afraid, and the Dukes made show of some timorous resenting. This live Death standing up, with a drowsy voice, and a tongue not much waking, began in this manner:  

I Merlin am, he that in Histories, 
Verses made on purpose absurdly, as the subject required, and so translated ad verbum.   
They say, the devill to my Father had,  
( A tale by age succeeding authorised)  
The Prince and Monarch of the magic Art,  
And Register of deep astrology,  
Succeeding ages, since, me emulate,  
That onely seek to sing and blazon forth  
The rare exploits of those Knights errand brave,  
To whom I bore, and bare a liking great.   

And howsoever of Enchanters, and  
Those that are Wizards or Magicians be,  
Hard the condition rough and devilish is,  
Yet mine is tender, soft, and amorous,  
And unto all friendly, to do them good.   

In the obscure and darkest Caues of Dis,  
Whereas my soul hath still been entertained  
In forming Circles and of Characters,  
I heard the lamentable note, of faire  
And peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso.   

I knew of her Enchantment and hard hap,  
Her transformation, from a goodly Dame  
Into a rustic wench, I sorry was,  
And shutting up my spirit within this hollow,  
This terrible and fierce Anatomy,  
When I had turned a hundred thousand books  
Of this my devilish Science and uncouth,  
I come to give the remedy that's fit,  
To such a grief, and to an ill so great.   

Oh Glory thou of all, that do put on  
Their coats of steel and hardest Diamond,  
Thou light, thou lantern, Path, North-star, and Guide  
To those that casting of their sluggish sleep,  
And feather-beds, themselves accommodate  
To use the exercise of bloody arms,  
To thee, I say, oh never praised enough,  
Not as thou oughtest to be: oh Valiant!   

Oh jointly Wise! to thee, oh Don Quixote,  
The Mancha's Splendour, and the Star of Spain,  
That to recover to her first estate,  
The peerless Dulcinea deal Tobos.  
It is convenient that Sancho thy Squire,  
himself three thousand, and three hundred give  
Lashes, vpon his valiant buttocks both  
unto the air discovered, and likewise  
That they may vex, and smart,& grieve him sore;  
And vpon this, let all resolved be,  
That of her hard misfortunes Authors were  
My Masters, this my cause of coming was.   
By Gad( quoth Sancho) I say not three thousand; but I will as soon give myself three stabs, as three; the devill take this kind of dis-enchanting. What haue my buttocks to do with Enchantments? Verily, if Master Merlin haue found no other means to dis-enchant the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, shee may go enchanted to her grave.  
Good-man Rascall( quoth Don Quixote) you garlic slinkard; I shall take you, and bind you to a three, as naked as your mother brought you forth, and let me not say three thousand and three hundreth, but Ile give you six thousand and six hundred, so well laid on, that you shall not claw them off at three thousand and three hundred plucks, and reply not a word, if thou dost, Ile tear out thy very soul.  
Which when Merlin heard, quoth he, It must not be so, for the stripes that honest Sancho must receive, must bee with his good will, and not perforce, and at what time he will, for no time is prefixed him: but it is lawful for him, if he will redeem one half of this beating, he may receive it from anothers hand that may lay it on well.  
No other, nor laying on( quoth Sancho) no hand shall come near me: am I Dulcinea deal Toboso's Mother trow ye? that my buttocks should pay for the offence of her eyes? My Master indeed, he is a part of her, since every stitch while, he calls her, My life, my soul, my sustenance, my prop; he may bee whipped for her, and do all that is fitting for her dis-enchanting, but for me to whip myself, I 
Mistaken in stead of renounce, for so it goes in the Spanish.  bernounce.  
Sancho scarce ended his speech, when the silver Nymph that came next to Merlius Ghost, taking off her thin vail, she discovered her face, which seemed unto al to be extraordinary faire,& with a manly grace, and voice not very amiable, directing her speech to Sancho, she said, Oh thou unhappy Squire, soul of led,& heart of cork, and entrails of flint, if thou hadst been bidden, thou face-flaying thief, to cast thyself from a high tower down to the ground: if thou hadst been wished, enemy of mankind, to eat a dozen of Toads, two of Lizardes, and three of Snakes: if thou hadst been persuaded to kill thy wife and children with some truculent& sharp Scimitar: no marvel though thou shouldst show thyself nice and squeamish? but to make ●redge● do for three thousand and three hundred lashes( since the poorest schoolboy that is, hath them every month) admires, astonishes, and affrights all the pitiful entrails of the Auditors, and of all them that in process of time shall come to the hear of it: Put, oh miserable and flinty breast; put, I say, thy skittist. Moyles eyes, vpon the balls of mine, compared to shining stars, and thou shalt see them weep drop after drop, making furrows, careeres and paths, vpon the faire fields of my cheeks. Let it move thee, knavish and unto ward Monster, that my flourishing age( which is yet but in it's ten, and some yeeres; for I am nineteen, and not yet twenty) doth consume and whither under the bark of a rustic Labourer: and if now I seem not so to thee, tis a particular favour that signor Merlin hath done me who is here present, onely that my beauty may make thee relent; for the tears of an afflicted fairness, turn rocks into cotton, and Tygres into lambs: Lash, lash that thick flesh of thine, untamed beast, and rouse up thy courage from sloth, which makes thee onely fit to eat till thou burst, and set my smooth flesh at liberty, the gentleness of my condition, and the beauty of my face, and if for my sake thou wilt not bee mollified, and reduced to some reasonable terms, yet do it for that poor Knight, that is by thee; for thy Master( I say) whose soul I see is traversed in his throat, not ten fingers from his lips, expecting nothing, but thy rigid or soft answer, either to come out of his mouth, or to turn back to his stomach.  
Don Quixote hearing this, felt to his throat, and turning to the Duke, said; Before God, Sir, Dulcinea hath said true; for my soul indeed is traversed in my throat, like the nocke of a crossebow. What say you to this, Sancho, quoth the duchess? I say what I haue said( quoth Sancho) that the lashes I bernounce. Renounce thou wouldst say, Sancho, said the Duke. Let your greatness pardon me, said Sancho, I am not now to look into subtleties, nor your letters too many, or too few; for these lashes that I must haue, do so trouble me, that I know not what ●… do or say: but I would fain know of my Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, where shee learnt this kind of begging shee hath: shee comes to desire me to tear my flesh with lashes, and calls me Leaden soul, and untamed Beast, with a Catalogue of ill names, that the devill would not suffer. Doz shee think my flesh is made of brass? Or will her dis-enchantment bee worth any thing to me or no? What basket of white linen, of shirts, caps, or socks( though I wear none) doth shee bring with her, to soften me with? onely some kind of railing or other, knowing that the usual proverb is, An ass laden with gold, will go lightly up hill; and that Gifts do enter stone-wals; and serve God,& work hard; and, Better a bide in the hand, then two in the bush. And my master too, that should animate me to this task,& comfort me, to make me become as soft as wool, he says, that he will tie me naked to a three, and double the number of my lashes,& therefore these compassionate Gentles should consider, that they do not onely wish a Squire to whip himself, but a governor also, as if it were no more, but drink to your Cherries, let vm learn, let vm learn with a pox, to know how to ask, and to demand; for all times are not alike, and men are not always in a good humour: I am now ready to burst with grief, to see my torn coat, and now you come to bid me whip myself willingly, I being as far from it, as to turn Cacicke. 
Caciques, are great Lords amongst the West-Indians.   
By my faith, Sancho( quoth the Duke) if you do not make yourself as soft as a ripe fig, you finger not the government. Twere good indeed, that I should sand a cruel flinty-hearted governor amongst my islanders, that will not bend to the tears of afflicted Damozels, nor to the entreaties, of discreet, imperious, ancient, wise Enchanters. To conclude, Sancho, either you must whip yourself, or bee whipped, or not bee governor.  
Sir( quoth Sancho) may I not haue two dayes respite to consider? No, by no means, quoth Merlin, now at this instant, and in this place this business must bee dispatched, or Dulcinea shall return to Montesino's cave,& to her pristine being of a Country-wench, or as she is, she shall be carried to the Elyzian fields, there to expect till the number of these lashes be fulfilled. go to, honest Sancho, said the duchess, be of good cheer, show your love for your Masters bread that you haue eaten, to whom all of us are indebted for his pleasing condition, and his high chivalry. Say I, son, to this whipping-cheere, and hang the devill, and let fear go whistle, a good heart conquers ill fortune, as well thou knowest.  
To this, Sancho yielded these foolish speeches, speaking to Merlin: Tell me, signor Merlin, said he, when the devill Post passed by here, and delivered his message to my Master from signor Montesinos, bidding him from him he should expect him here, because he came to give order, that my Lady Dulcinea should be dis-enchanted, where is he, that hitherto wee haue neither seen Montesinos, or any such thing?  
To which, said Merlin, Friend Sancho; The devill is an ass, and an arrant knave, I sent him in quest of your Master: but not with any message from Montesinos, but from me, for he is still in his cave, plotting, or to say truer, expecting his dis-enchantment, for yet he wants something toward it; and if he owe thee ought, or thou haue any thing to do with him, Ile bring him thee, and set him where thou wilt: and therefore now make an end, and yield to his disciplining, and beleeue me it will do thee much good, as well for thy mind as for thy body: for thy mind, touching the charity thou shalt perform, for thy body( for I know thou art of a sanguine complexion, and it can do thee no hurt to let out some blood.  
What a company of Physicians there be in the world, said Sancho? even the very Enchanters are Physicians. Well, since every body tells me so, that it is good( yet I cannot think so) I am content to give myself three thousand& three hundred lashes, on condition that I may bee giuing of them as long as I please, and I will be out of debt as soon as tis possible, that the world may enjoy the beauty of the Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, since it appears, contrary to what I thought, that shee is faire. On condition likewise that I may not draw blood with the whip, and if any lash go by too, it shall pass for currant: Item, that signor Merlin, if I forget any part of the number( since he knows all) shall haue a care to tell them, and to let me know how many I want, or if I exceed. For your exceeding, quoth Merlin, there needs no telling, for coming to your just number, forth-with Dulcinea shall be dis-enchanted, and shall come in all thankfulness to seek Sancho, to gratify and reward him for the good dead. So you need not bee scrupulous, either of your excess or defect, and God forbid I should deceive any body in so much as a hairs breadth.  
Well( quoth Sancho) a Gods name bee it, I yield to my ill fortune, and with the aforesaid conditions accept of the penitence.  
Scarce had Sancho spoken these words, when the waits began to play, and a world of guns were shot off,& Don Quixote hung about Sancho's neck, kissing his cheeks and forehead a thousand times. The Duke, the duchess, and all the by-standers, were wonderfully delighted, and the Cart began to go on, and passing by, the faire Dulcinea inclined her head to the Dukes, and made a low curtsy to Sancho, and by this the merry morn came on apace, and the flowers of the field began to bloom and rise up, and the liquid crystal of the brooks, murmuring thorough the gray pebbles, went to give tribute to the Riuers, that expected them, the sky was clear, and the air wholesome, the light perspicuous, each by itself, and all together shewed manifestly, that the day, whose skirts Aurora came trampling on, should be bright and clear.  
And the Dukes being satisfied with the Chase,& to haue obtained their purpose so discreetly and happily, they returned to their Castle, with an intention to second their jest; for to them there was no earnest could give them more content.   

CHAP. XXXVI.  
Of the strange and vn-imagined adventure of the afflicted Matron, alias, the countess Trifaldi, with a letter that Sancho Pansa wrote to his wife Teresa Pansa.  
THe Duke had a Steward of a very pleasant and conceited wit, who played Merlins part, and contrived the whole furniture for the passed adventure, he it was that made the verses, and that a page. should act Dulcinea. Finally, by his Lords leave, he plotted another piece of work, the pleasantest and strangest that may be imagined.  
The duchess asked Sancho the next day, if he had yet begun his task of the penance, for the dis-enchanting of Dulcinea; he  told her, yes: and that as that night, he had given himself five lashes. The duchess asked him, With what? he answered, with his hand. Those( quoth the duchess) are rather claps then lashes: I am of opinion that the sage Merlin will not accept of this softness, 'twere fitter that Sancho took the discipline of rowels or bullets with prickles, that may smart, for the business will be effected with blood, and the liberty of so great a Lady will not be wrought so slightly, or with so small a price; and know, Sancho, that works of charity are not to be done so slow and lazily, for they will merit nothing.  
To which Sancho replied, give me, Madam, a convenient lash of some bough, and I will lash myself, that it may not smart too much; for let me tell your Worship this, that though I am a clown, yet my flesh is rather Cotton then mattress, and there's no reason I should kill myself for anothers good. You say well( quoth the duchess) to morrow Ile give you a whip that shall fit you, and agree with the tenderness of your flesh, as if it were a kin to them. To which( quoth Sancho) Lady of my soul, I beseech you know, that I haue written a letter to my wife Teresa Pansa, letting her know all that hath happened to me since I partend from her; here I haue it in my bosom, and it wants nothing but the superscription: I would your discretion would red it, for me thinks it goes fit for a governor, I mean, in the same style that Gouernours should writ. And who penned it, said the duchess? Who should, said he, Sinner that I am, but I myself? And did you writ it( quoth shee)? Nothing less( said he) for I can neither writ nor red, though I can set to my firm. Let's see your letter, quoth the duchess, for I warrant, thou showest the ability and sufficiency of thy wit in it. Sancho drew the Letter open out of his bosom, and the duchess taking it of him, red the Contents, as followeth.  
Sancho Pansa's Letter to his wife Teresa Pansa.  
IF I were well lashed, I got well by it; If I got a government, it cost me many a good lash. This, my Teresa, at present thou understandest not, hereafter thou shalt know it. Know now, Teresa, that I am determined thou go in thy Coach, for all other kind of going, is to go vpon all four. Thou ar● now a Gouernours wife, let's see if any body will gnaw thy stumps. I haue sent thee a green hunters suit, that my Lady the duchess gave me, fit it so, that it may serve our daughter for a coat and Bodies. My Master Don Quixote, as I haue heard say in this Country, is a mad wise man, and a conceited coxcomb, and that I am ne're a whit behind him. Wee haue been in Montesinos cave, and the sage Merlin hath laid hands on me for the disenchanting my Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, whom you there call Aldonsa Lorenzo, with three thousand and three hundred lashes lacking five, that I give myself, she shall be dis-enchanted as the Mother that brought her forth: but let no body know this; for put it thou to descant on, some will cry white, others black. Within this little while I will go to my government, whither I go with a great desire to make money, for I haue been  told, that all your Gouernours at first go with the same desire. I will look into it, and sand thee word whether it bee fit for thee to come to me or no. Dapple is well, and commends him hearty to thee, and I will not leave him, although I were to go to bee Great turk. My Lady the duchess kisses thy hands a thousand times: return her two thousand, for there's nothing costs less, nor is better cheap, as my Master tells me, then compliment. God Almighty hath not yet been pleased to bless me with a cloak-bag, and another hundreth Pistolets as those you wot of: but be not grieved, my Teresa, theres no hurt done, all shall be recompensed when we lay the government a bucking; onely one thing troubles me, for they tell me that after my time is expired, I may die for hunger, which if it should be true, I haue paid deere for it, though your lame and maimed men get their living by begging& alms; so that one way or other thou shalt be rich and happy: God make thee so, and keep me to serve thee.  
From this Castle, the twentieth of july, 1614. The governor thy Husband, Sancho Pansa.  
When the duchess had made an end of reading the Letter, she said to Sancho; in two things the good governor is out of the way: the one, In saying or publishing, that this government hath been given him for the lashes he must give himself, he knowing, for he cannot deny it that when my Lord the Duke promised it him, there was no dreaming in the world of lashes: The other is, that he shows himself in it very covetous, and I would not haue it so prejudicial to him; for covetousness is the root of all evil, and the covetous governor does vngouerned Iustice. I had no such meaning, Madam( quoth Sancho) and if your Worship think the Letter be not written as it should be, let it be torn, and weele haue a new, and perhaps it may be worse, if it be left to my noddle. No, no,( quoth the duchess) 'tis well enough, and Ile haue the Duke see it. So they went to a garden where they were to dine that day: the duchess showed Sancho's Letter to the Duke, which gave him great content. They dined, and when the cloth was taken away, and that they had entertained themselves a pretty while with Sancho's savoury conversation, vpon a sudden they heard a doleful sound of a Flute, and of a hoarse and vntuned Drum; all of them were in some amazement, at this confused, martiall, and sad harmony, especially Don Quixote, who was so troubled, he could not sit still in his seat; for Sancho there is no more to be said, but that fear carried him to his accustomend refuge, which was the Duchesses side or her lap; for in good earnest, the sound they heard was most sad and melancholy. And all of them being in this maze, they might see two men come in before them into the Garden, clad in mourning weeds, so long that they dragged to the ground, these came beating of two Drums, covered likewise with black: with them came the Fife, black and besmeared as well as the rest. After these there followed a parsonage of a Gyantly body, bemantled, and not clad in a cole-blacke cassock, whose skirt was extraordinarily long, his cassock likewise was gird with a broad black belt, at which there hung an unmeasurable Scimitar with hilts and scabbard; vpon his face he wore a transparent black vail, thorough which they might see a huge long beard as white as snow. His place was very grave and stayed, according to the sound of the Drum and Fife. To conclude, his hugeness, his motion, his blackness, and his consorts, might haue held all that knew him not, and looked on him, in suspense.  
Thus he came with the state and Prosopopeia aforesaid, and kneeled before the Duke, who with the rest that stood up there, awaited his coming: but the Duke would not by any means hear him speak till he rose, which the prodigious scarecrow did; and standing up, he plucked his mask from off his face, and shewed the most horrid, long, white, and thick beard, that ere till then human eyes beholded; and strait he let loose and rooted out from his broad and spreading breast, a majestical loud voice, and casting his eyes toward the Duke, thus said:  
High and mighty Sir, I am called Trifaldin with the white beard, Squire to the countess Trifaldi, otherwise called The Afflicted Matron, from whom I bring an embassage to your greatness, which is, that your Magnificence be pleased to give her leave and licence to enter and relate her griefs, which are the most strange and admirable that ever troubled thoughts in the world could think: but first of all, she would know whether the valorous& invincible Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha be in your Castle, in whose search she comes afoot, and hungry from the kingdom of Candaya, even to this your dukedom: a thing miraculous, or by way of Enchantment: she is at your fortress gate, and onely expects your permission to come in; thus he spoken, and forthwith coughed and wiped his beard from the top to the bottom, with both his hands, and with a long pause attended the Dukes answer, which was;  
Honest Squire Trifaldin with the white beard, long, since the misfortune of the countess Trifaldi hath come to our notice, whom Enchanters haue caused to be styled, The afflicted Matron: tell her, stupendious Squire, shee may come in, and that here is the valiant Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, from whose generous condition shee may safely promise herself all aid and assistance: and you may also tell her from me, that if she need my favour, she shall not want it, since I am obliged to it by being a Knight, to whom the favouring of all sorts of her sex is pertaining and annexed, especially Matron widdows ruined, and afflicted, as her ladyship is. Which when Trifaldin heard, he bent his knee to the ground, and making signs to the Drum and Fife, that they should play to the same place and sound as when they entred, he returned back out of the garden, and left all in admiration of his presence and posture.  
And the Duke turning to Don Quixote, said; In fine, Sir Knight, neither the clouds of malice or ignorance can darken or obscure the light of valour and virtue. This I say, because it is scarce six daies since that your 
A forced word put in, in mockage purposely.  bounty hath been in this my Castle, when the sad and afflicted come from remote parts, on foot, and not in Carroches and on Dromedaries to seek you, confident that in this most strenuous arm they shall find the remedy for their griefs and labours, thankes to your brave exploits, that run over and compass the whole world.  
Now would I, my Lord, quoth Don Quixote, that that same blessed Clergy-man were present, who the other day, at table, seemed to be so distasted, and to bear such a grudge against Knights errand, that he might see with his eyes, whether those Knights are necessary to the world; he might feel too with his hands that your extraordinary afflicted and comfortless, and great affairs and enormous mis-haps go not to seek redress to Booke-mens houses, or to some poor Country Sextons, nor to your Gentleman that never stirred from home, nor to the lazy Courtier that rather harkens after news which he may report again, then procures to perform deeds and exploits, that others may relate and writ; the redress of griefs, the succouring of necessities, the protection of Damozels, the comfort of widdows, is had from no sort of persons so well as from Knights errand; and that I am one, I give heaven infinite thankes, and I think my disgrace well earned that I may receive in this noble calling. Let this Matron come, and demand what shee will, for I will give her redress with this my strong arm, and undaunted resolution of my courageous spirit.   

CHAP. XXXVII.  
Of the Prosecution of the famous adventure of the Afflicted Matron.  
THe Duke and duchess were extremely glad, to see how well Don Quixote satisfied their intentions,& then Sancho said; I should be loth this Mistris Matron should lay any stumbling block in the promise of my government: for I haue heard a Toledo Apothecary say( and he spoken like a Bull-finch) that where these kind of 
Duennas, here Sancho takes Duenna in the former sense, for an old waiting-woman.  women were intermeddling, there could no good follow. Lord, what an enemy that Apothecary was to them? for since all your Matrons, of what condition or quality soever they bee, are irksome and foolish, what kind of ones shall your Afflicted bee? as this countess, 
Alluding to the name Trifaldi, as if shee had been called trees faldes, which signifies three skirts, and this was his mistake.  Three skirts, or Three tails; for tails and skirts, all is one.  
Peace, friend Sancho, quoth Don Quixote; for since this Matron-Lady comes from so remote parts to seek me, she is none of those that the Apothecary hath in his beadroll: besides, this is a countess, and when your Countesses are Wayting-women, tis either to queens or Empresses, who in their houses are most absolute, and are served by other Wayting-women. To this( quoth Donna Rodriguez, that was present) My Lady the duchess hath women in her service, that might haue been Countesses, if Fortune had beeene pleased: but the weakest go to the walls, and let no man speak ill of Wayting-women, and especially of ancient maids; for although I am none, yet I well and clearly perceive the advantage, that your maiden Wayting-women haue over Widdow-women, and one pair of shears went between us both.  
For all that( quoth Sancho) there is so much to bee sheered in your Wayting-women( according to mine Apothecary) that, The more you stir this business, the more it will stink. always these Squires( quoth Donna Rodriguez) are malicious against us; for, as they are Fairies that haunt the out-roomes, and every foot spy us, the times that they are not at their deuotions( which are many) they spend in back-biting us, vndigging our bones, and burying our reputation. Well, let me tell these moving blocks, that in spite of them, wee will live in the world, and in houses of good fashion, though wee starve for it, or cover our delicate or not delicate flesh with a black monks weed, as if we were old walls covered with tapestry, at the passing of a Procession. I faith, if I had time and leisure enough, I would make all that are present, know, that there is no virtue, but is contained in a waiting-woman. I beleeue( said the duchess) my honest Donna Rodriguez is in the right: but she must stay for a fit time to answer for herself, and the rest of Wayting-women, to confounded the Apothecaries ill opinion, and to root it out altogether from Sancho's breast. To which( quoth Sancho) since the Gouernourship smokes in my head, all Squirely fumes are gone out, and I care not a wild fig for all your Wayting-women.  
Forward they had gone with this waiting-woman discourse, had they not heard the Drum and Fife play, whereby they knew that the Afflicted Matron was entering: the duchess asked the Duke, if they should meet her, since shee was a countess, and noble parsonage. For her Counteship( quoth Sancho) before the Duke could answer, I like it that your greatness meet her: but for her Matronship, that ye stir not a foot. Who bids thee meddle with that, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote? Who, Sir( said he?) I myself, that may meddle, that, as a Squire, haue learnt the terms of courtesy in your Worships school, that is the most courteous and best bread Knight in all Courtship, and as I haue heard you say in these things. Better play a carded too much, then too little; and, Good wits will soon meet. Tis true as Sancho says( quoth the Duke) we will see what kind of countess she is, and by that, guess what courtesy is due to her. By this the Drum and Fife came in, as formerly: and here the Author ended this brief Chapter, beginning another, which continues the same adventure, one of the notablest of all the History.   

CHAP. XXXVIII.  
The Afflicted Matron recounts her ill Errantry.  
AFter the music, there entred in at the Garden, about some twelve Matron-wayters, divided into two ranks, all clad in large Monks weeds, to see to, of fulled Serge, with white Stoles of thin calico, so long, that they onely shewed the edge of their black weeds. After them came the countess Trifaldi, whom Trifaldin with the white beard lead by the hand, clad all in finest vn-napped bays; for had it been napped, every grain of it would haue been as big as your biggest pease: her tail or her train( call it whether you will) had three corners, which was born by three Pages, clad likewise in mourning: thus making a sightly and mathematical show with those three sharp corners, which the pointed skirt made, for which belike she was called the countess 
The word in Spanish importing so.  Trifaldi, as if we should say the countess of the three trains, and Benengeli says, it was true, and that her right name was the countess Lobuna, because there were many wolves bread in her country; and if they had been Foxes, as they were wolves, they would haue called her the countess 
Zorra, in Spanish, a Fox.  Zorruna, by reason that in those parts it was the custom, that great ones took their appellations, from the thing or things that did most abound in their States: but this countess, taken with the strangeness of her three-fold train, left her name of Lobuna, and took that of Trifaldi.  
The twelve waiters and their Lady came a Procession-pace, their faces covered with black biles, and not transparent, was as Trifaldins, but so close, that nothing was seen thorough. just as the Matronly Squadron came in, the Duke, the duchess, and Don Quixote stood up, and all that beholded the large Procession. The twelve made a stand, and a Lane, thorough the midst of which, The Afflicted came forward, Trifaldin still leading her by the hand, which the Duke, the Duchessee, and Don Quixote seeing, they advanced some dozen paces to meet her. Shee kneeling on the ground, with a voice rather course and hoarse, then fine and clear, said; May it please your Greatnesses to spare this courtesy to your seruant, I say, to me your seruant; for as I am The Afflicted; I shall not answer you as I ought, by reason that my strange and unheard of misfortune, hath transported my understanding, I know not whither, and sure tis far off; since the more I seek it, the less I find it. He should want it, Lady( quoth the Duke) that by your person could not judge of your worth, the which without any more looking into, deserves the cream of courtesy,& the Flower of al mannerly ceremonies: so taking her up by the hand, he lead her to sit down in a chair by the duchess, who welcomed her also with much courtesy.  
Don Quixote was silent, and Sancho longed to see the Trifaldis face, and some of her Wayting-women: but there was no possibility, till they of their own accords would show them: so all being quiet and still, they expected who should first break silence, which was done by the Afflicted Matron with these words. 
A Fustian speech on purpose, and so continued.  Confident I am( most powerful Sir, most beautiful Lady, and most discreet Auditors) that my most miserableness shall find in your most valorous breasts shelter, no less pleasing, then generous and compassionate; for it is such, as is able to make marble relent, to soften the Diamonds, and to mollify the steel of the hardest hearts in the world: but before it come into the market-place of your hearing( I will not say your ears) I should be glad to know, if the most Purifiediferous Don Quixote of the Manchissima, and his Squiriferous Pansa, bee in this Lap, this choir, this Company.  
Pansa is here( quoth Sancho) before any body else could answer, 
b Sancho strives to answer in the same key.  and Don Quixotissimo too, therfore most Afflictedissimous Matronissima, speak what you will-issimus, for we are all ready& most forward to be your Seruitorissimus. Then Don Quixote rose up, and directed his speech to the Afflicted Matron, and said; If your troubles, straightened Lady, may promise you any hope of remedy, by the valour and force of any Knight errand; Behold, here are my poor and weak arms, that shall bee employed in your service. I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, whose Function is to succour the needy, which being so( as it is) you need not, Lady, to use any rhetoric, or to seek any Preambles; but plainly, and without circumstances, tell your griefs; for they shall be heard by those, that if they cannot redress them, yet they will commiserate them.  
Which when the Afflicted Matron heard, she seemed to fall at Don Quixotes feet, and cast herself down, striving to embrace them,& said; Before these feet& legs I cast myself, oh invincible Knight: since they are the Basis and columns of Knight Errantry, these feet will I kiss, on whose steps the whole remedy of my misfortunes doth hang and depend. Oh valorous errand! whose valorous exploits do obscure& darken the fabulous ones of the Amadises, Esplandiasus, and Belianises: And leaving Don Quixote, she laid hold on Sancho Pansa, and gripping his hands, said; Oh thou the loyallest Squire that ever served Knight errand, in past or present times! longer in goodness then my usher Trifaldins beard, well mayest thou vaunt, that in serving Don Quixote, thou servest, in Cipher, the whole Troope of Knights, that haue worn arms in the world: I conjure thee, by thy most loyal goodness, that thou be a good intercessor with thy Master, that he may eftsoones favour this most humble, most unfortunate countess.  
To which( said Sancho) that my goodness, Lady, be as long as your Squires beard, I do not much stand vpon, the business is, bearded or with mustacho's, let me haue my soul go to heaven when I die: for, for beards here I care little or nothing: but without these clawings or entreaties, I will desire my Master( for I know he loues me well, and the rather, because now in a certain business he hath need of me) that he favour and help your Worship as much as he may: but pray vncage your griefs, and tell them us, and let us alone to understand them.  
The Dukes were ready to burst with laughter, as they that had taken the pulse of this adventure, and commended within themselves the wit and dissimulation of the Trifaldi, who sitting her down, said; Of the famous kingdom of Taprobana, which is between the great Taprobana and the South sea, some two leagues beyond scape Comorin, was queen the Lady Donna ●… Maguncia, widow to King Archipielo, her Lord and Husband, in which matrimony they had the princess Antonomasia, heir to the kingdom: the said princess was brought up, and increased under my tutorage and instruction, because I was the ancientest and chiefest Matron that waited on her mother. It fell out then, that times coming and going, the child Antonomasia being about fourteen yeeres of age, shee was so faire, that Nature could give no further addition. Discretion itself was a Snotty-nose to her, that was as discreet as faire, and she was the fairest in the world, and is, if envious Fates and inflexible Destinies haue not cut the thread of her life: but sure they haue not; for heaven will not permit, that Earth suffer such a loss, as would be the lopping of a branch of the fairest Vine in the world.  
On this beauty( neuer-sufficiently extolled by my rude tongue) a number of Princes were enamoured, as well Neighbours as Strangers, amongst whom, a private Gentle-man durst raise his thoughts to the heaven of that beauty, one that lived in Court, confident in his youth and gallantry, and other abilities, and happy facilities of wit; for let me give your Greatnesses to understand( if it be not tedious) he played on a Gitterne, as if he made it speak, he was a Poet, and a great Dancer, and could very well make Bird-cages, and onely with this Art, might haue gotten his living, when he had been in great necessity: so that all these parts and adornments were able to throw down a mountain, much more a delicate damosel: but all his gentry, all his graces, all his behaviour and abilities, could haue little prevailed, to render my childes fortress, if the cursed thief had not conquered me first. First, the cursed Rascall Vagamund sought to get my good will, and to bribe me, that I, ill keeper, should deliver him the keys of my fortress.  
To conclude, he inveigled my understanding, and obtained my consent, with some toys and trifles( I know not what) that he gave me: but that which most did prostrate me, and made me fall, was certain verses, that I heard him sing one night from a grated window, toward a Lane where he lay, which were as I remember these.  

An ill vpon my soul doth steal,  
From my sweetest enemy:  
And it more tormenteth me  
That I feel, yet must conceal.   
The Ditty was most precious to me, and his voice as sweet as sugar,& many a time since haue I thought, seeing the mis-hap I fell into, by these and such other like verses, and haue considered, that Poets should be banished from all good and well-gouerned Common-wealths, as Plato counseled, at least lascivious Poets; for they writ lascivious verses, not such as those of 
Old balladverses, the Author speaks here satirically.  the marquis of Mantua, that delight and make women and children weep, but piercing ones, that like sharp thorns, but soft, hour-glass the soul, and wound it like lightning, leaving the garment sound, and again he sung,  

Come death, hidden, without pain,  
( Let me not thy coming know)  
That the pleasure to die so,  
Make me not to live again.   
Other kindes of songs he had, which being sung, enchanted, and written, suspended: for when they deigned to make a kind of verse in Candaya, then in use, called roundelays, there was your dancing of souls, and tickling with laughter and unquietness of the body: and finally, the quick-siluer of all the sences. So, my Masters, let me say, that such Rithmers ought justly to bee banished to the island of Lizards: but the fault is none of theirs, but of simplo creatures that commend them, and foolish wenches that beleeue in them: and if I had been as good a waiting-woman, as I ought to haue been, his ouer-nights conceits would not haue moved me, neither should I haue given credit to these kind of speeches: I live dying, I burn in the frost, I shake in the fire, I hope hopeless, I go, and yet I stay: with other impossibilities of this scum, of which his writings are full: and then, your promising the Phoenix of Arabia, Ariadne's crown, the locks of the sun, the pearls of the South, the Gold of tiber, and Balsamum of Pancaia: and here they are most liberal in promising that, which they never think to perform.  
But whither, ay me unhappy, do I divert myself? What folly or what madness makes me recount other folkes faults, having so much to say of mine own? ay me again, unfortunate, for not the verses, but my folly, vanquished me; not his music, but my lightness, my ignorance softened me; that, and my ill fore-sight opened the way, and made plain the path to Don Clanixo, for this is the aforesaid Gentle-mans name; so that I being the bawd, he was many times in the chamber of the( not by him, but me) betrayed Antonomasia, under colour of being her lawful Spouse; for though a sinner I am, I would not haue consented, that without being her Husband, he should haue come to the bottom of her shoosole.  
No, no, Matrimony must ever bee the colour in all these businesses, that shall bee treated of by me: onely there was one mischief in it, that Don Clanixo was not her equal, he being but a private Gentle-man, and shee such an Inheritrix. A while this juggling was hide and concealed, with the sagacity of my wariness, till a kind of swelling in Antonomosia's belly, at last discovered it, the fear of which made us all three enter into counsel, and it was agreed, that before the mis-hap should come to light, Don Clanixo should demand Antonomasia for wife before the Vicar, by virtue of a bill of her hand, which shee had given him to bee so: this was framed by my invention so forcibly, that Samson himself was not able to break it.  
The matter was put in practise, the Vicar saw the bill, and took the Ladies confession: who confessed plainly, he committed her prisoner to a Sargeants house. Then( quoth Sancho) haue you Sargeants too in Candaya, Poets, and Roundelayes? I swear I think, the world is the same euery-where: but make an end, Madam Trifaldi: for it is late, and I long to know the end of this large story. I will, answered the countess.   

CHAP. XXXIX.  
Where the Trifaldi prosecutes her stupendious and memorable History.  
AT every word that Sancho spoken, the duchess was as well pleased as Don Quixote out of his wits, and commanding him to bee silent; the Afflicted went on, saying: The short and the long was this, after many giuings and takings, by reason the princess stood ever stiffly to her tackling, the Vicar sentenced in Don Clanixo's favour, whereat the queen Donna Maguncia Antonomasia's Mother was so full of wrath, that some three daies after wee butted her. Well, Sir Squire, quoth Sancho, it hath been seen ere now, that one that hath been but in a swoon, hath been butted, thinking he was dead; and me thinks that queen Magunica might but rather haue been in a swoon, for with life many things are remedied, and the Princesses error was not so great, that she should so resent it. If shee had married with a page. or any other seruant of her house( as I haue heard many haue done) the mischance had been irreparable: but to mary with so worthy a Gentleman, and so understanding as hath been painted out to us, truly, truly, though 'twere an oversight, yet twas not so great as we think for; for according to my Masters rules here present, who will not let me lie, as Schollers become Bishops, so private Knights( especially if they be errand) may become Kings and Emperours.  
Thou hast reason, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) for a Knight errand, give him but two inches of good fortune, he is in potentia proxima to be the greatest sovereign of the world. But let the Afflicted proceed, for to me it appears, the bitterest part of her sweet History is behind. The bitterest, quoth you, said shee? Indeed so bitter, that in comparison of this, Treacle and elecampane is sweet.  
The queen being stark dead, and not in a trance, wee butted her, and scarce had wee covered her with earth, and took our ultimum vale, when Quis talia fando temperet a lachrimis? the giant Malambruno, Maguncia's Cousin german, appeared before her grave vpon a wooden horse, who besides his cruelty, was also an Enchanter, who with his Art to reuenge his Cousins death,& for Don Clanixos boldness, and for despite of Antonomasia's oversight, enchanted them vpon the same tomb, turning her into a brazen Ape, and him into a fearful Crocodile of unknown metal, and betwixt them both is likewise set a Register of metal, written in the Siriacke tongue, which being translated into the Candayan, and now into the Castilian, contains this sentence:  
These two bold Louers shall not recover their natural form, till the valiant Manchegan come to single combat with me, for the Destinies reserve this vn-heard of adventure only for his great valour.  
This done, he unsheathed a broad and vnwieldy Scimitar, and taking me by the hair of the head, he made as if he would haue cut my throat, or sheared off my neck at a blow. I was amazed, my voice cleaved to the roof of my mouth, I was troubled extremely: but I enforced myself as well as I could, and with a dolorous and trembling voice, I  told him such and so many things, as made him suspend the execution of his rigorous punishment.  
Finally, he made all the waiting-Women of the Court be brought before him, which are here present now also; and after he had exaggerated our faults, and reviled the conditions of Waiting-women, their wicked wil●ss, and worse sleights, and laying my fault vpon them all, he said he would not capitally punish us, but with other dilated pains, that might give us a civil and continuate death: and in the very same instant& moment that he had said this, we all felt that the Pores of our faces opened, and that all about them wee had prickles, like the pricking of needles: by and by we clapped our hands to our faces, and found them just as you see them now; with this the Afflicted, and the rest of the Waiting-women lifted up their masks which they had on, and shewed their faces all with beards, some read, some black, some white, and lime-smeared: at sight of which, the Duke& duchess admired; Don Quixote and Sancho were astonished, and all the by-standers wonder-strooken, and the Trifaldi proceeded: Thus that felon, and hard-hearted Malambruno punished us, covering the softness and smoothness of our faces with these rough bristles: would God he had beheaded us with his unwieldy Scimitar, and not so dimmed the light of our faces with these blots that hid us; for, my Masters, if we fall into reckoning,( and that which now I say, I would speak it with mine eyes running a fountain of tears, but the consideration of our misfortunes, and the Seas that hitherto haue rained, haue drawn them as dry as ears of corn, and therefore let me speak without tears.) Whither shall a Waiting-woman with a beard go? What Father or Mother will take compassion on her? For when her flesh is at the smoothest, and her face martyrized with a thousand sorts of slibber-slabbers& waters, she can scarce find any body that will care for her, what shall she do then when she weares a wood vpon her face? O Matrons, Companions mine, in an ill time were we born, in a luckless hour our Fathers begot us; and saying this, she made show of dismaying.   

CHAP. XL.  
Of matters that touch and pertain to this adventure, and most memorable History.  
certainly, all they that delight in such Histories as this, must be thankful to Cid Hamete the Author of the Original, for his curiosity in setting down every little tittle, without leaving out the smallest matter, that hath not been distinctly brought to light: he paints out conceits, discovers imaginations, answers secrets, clears doubts, resolves arguments: To conclude, manifests the least moat of each curious desire. Oh famous Author! Oh happy Don Quixote! Oh renowned Dulcinea! Oh pleasant Sancho! all together, and each in particular, long may you live, to the delight and general recreation of mortals. The Story then goes on, that just as Sancho saw the Afflicted dismayed, he said, As I am honest man, and by the memory of the Pansa's, I never heard nor saw, nor my master never  told me, nor could he ever conceit in his fancy such an adventure as this. A thousand Satans take thee( not to curse thee) for an Enchanteras thou art, giant Malambruno, and hadst thou no kind of punishment for these sinners but this bearding them? What? had it not been better& fitter for them, to haue bereaved them of half their noses, though they had snuffled for it, and not to haue clapped these beards on them? I hold a wager they haue no money to pay for their shaving. You say true Sir, quoth one of the twelve, we haue nothing to cleanse us with, therefore some of us haue used a remedy of sticking plasters, which, applied to our faces, and clapped on vpon a sudden, make them as plain and smooth as the bottom of a ston mortar; for though in Candaya there be women that go up and down from house to house to take away the hair of the body, and to trim theeye-browes, and other slibber-sawces touching women, yet wee my Ladies women would never admit them, because they smell something of the bawd: and if signor Don Quixote do not help us, wee are like to go with beards to our graues.  
I would rather lose mine amongst Infidels, quoth Don Quixote, then not ease you of yours. By this the Trifaldi came to herself again, and said, The very iyngling of this promise came into my ears in the midst of my Trance, and was enough to recover my sences: therefore once again, Renowned errand, and untamed Sir, let me beseech you that your gracious promise be put in execution. For my part it shall, quoth Don Quixote, tell me Lady, what I am to do, for my mind is very prompt to serve you.  
Thus it is( quoth the Afflicted) from hence to the Kingdom of Candaya, if you go by land, you haue five thousand leagues, wanting two or three; but if you go in the air, some three thousand two hundreth and seven and twenty by a direct line. You must likewise know that Malambruno  told me, that when Fortune should bring me to the Knight that must free us, that he would sand a horse much better, and with fewer tricks then your hirelings, which is the selfsame horse of wood, on which the valiant Pierres stolen and carried away the faire Magalona, which horse is governed by a pin that he hath in his forehead, that serves for a bridle, and flies in the air so swiftly, as if the devils themselves carried him. This horse, according to Tradition, was made by the Sage Merlin, and he lent him to his friend Pierres, who made long voyages vpon him, and stolen away( as is said) the faire Magalona, carrying her in the air at his Crupper, leaving all that beholded them on earth in a staring gaze, and he lent him to none but those whom he loved, or that payed him best, and since the Grand Pierres, hitherto we haue not heard that any else hath come vpon his back: Malambruno got him from thence by his Art, and keeps him, making use of him in his voyages, which he hath every foot thorough all parts of the world, and he is here to day, and to morrow in France, and the next day at jerusalem: and the best is, that this horse neither eats nor sleeps, nor needs shoeing, and he ambles in the air, without wings, that he that rides vpon him, may carry ● cup full of water in his hand, without spilling a jot: he goes so soft and so easy, which made the faire Magalona glad to ride vpon him.  
Then( quoth Sancho) for your soft and easy going, my Dapple bears the bell, though he go not in the air; but vpon earth. Ile play with him with all the Amblers in the world.  
All of them laughed, and the Afflicted went on: and this horse( if Malambruno will grant an end of our misfortune) within half an hour at night will be with us; for he  told me, that the sign that I had found the Knight that should procure our liberty, should be the sending of that horse whither he should come speedily. And how many( quoth Sancho) may ride vpon that horse? The Afflicted answered, Two; one in the Saddle, and the other at the Crupper, and most commonly such two are, Knight and Squire, when some stolen damosel is wanting. I would fain know, Afflicted Madam, quoth Sancho, what this horses name is. His name( quoth she) is not like Bellerophons horse, called Pegasus or Alexanders the great, Bucephalus, or Orlando Furioso's Briliadoro, or Bayarte Reynaldos de Montaluans, or Rogeros Frontino, or Bootes or Perithons, the horses of the sun, nor Orelia Rodrigo the last unhappy King of the goths his Horse, in that battle where he lost his life and kingdom together.  
I hold a wager( said Sancho) that since he hath none of all these famous known names, that his name neither is not Rozinante my Masters horses name, which goes beyond al those that haue been name already.  
Tis true( quoth the bearded countess) notwithstanding he hath a name that fits him very well, which is 
Clau● a nail or wooden pin, Leno wood in Spanish.  Clauileno the swift: first, because he is of wood, and then, because of the pin in his fore-head, so that for his name he may compare with Rozinante. I dislike not his name( said Sancho) but what bridle, or what halter is he governed with? I haue  told you( said the Trifaldi) that with the pin, turned as pleaseth the party that rides on him, he will go either in the air, or raking and sweeping along the earth, or in a mean which ought to bee sought in all well-ordered actions. I would fain see him( quoth Sancho) but to think that Ile get up on him, either in the saddle, or at the Crupper, were to ask pears of the elm. Twere good indeed, that I, that can scarce sit vpon Dapple, and a packe-saddle as soft as silk, should get up vpon a wooden crupper without a Cushion or Pillow-beare: by Gad Ile not bruise myself to take away any bodies beard: let every one shave himself as well as he can; for Ile not go so long a voyage with my Master: besides, theres no use of me for the shaving of these beards, as there is for the dis-enchanting my Lady Dulcinea. Yes mary is there, said the Trifaldi, and so much, that I beleeue, without you we shall do nothing. 
Aqui deal R●y, the usual speech of Officers in Spai● 〈◇〉 when any are stead p●… resist●….  God& the King( quoth Sancho) what haue the Squires to do with their Masters adventures, they must reap the credit of ending them, and wee must bear the burden? Body of me, if your Historians would say, Such a Knight ended such an adventure, but with the help of such and such a Squire, without whom it had been impossible to end it, twere something: but that they writ dryly, Don Parlalipomenon, Knight of the three stars, ended the adventure of the six Hob-goblins, without naming his Squires person that was present at all, as if he were not alive: I like it not, my Masters, I tell you again, my Master may go alone, much good may it do him, and Ile stay here with my Lady the duchess, and it may be when he comes back, he shall find the Lady Dulcinea's business three-fold, nay fiue-fold bettered, for I purpose at idle times, and when I am at leisure to give myself a 'bout of whipping, bare breech'd. For all that( quoth the duchess) if need be, you must accompany him, honest Sancho, for all good people will entreat, that for your unnecessary fear these gentlewomen's faces be not so thick-bearded; for it were great pitty.  
God and the King again( quoth Sancho) when this charity were performed for some retired Damozels, as some quibbling girls, a man might undertake any hazard; but for to vnbeard waiting-women, a pox: I would I might see vm bearded from the highest to the lowest, from the nicest to the neatest. You are still bitter against waiting-women, friend, quoth the duchess, you are much addicted to the Toledanian Apothecaries opinion: but on my faith you haue no reason, for I haue women in my house, that may be a pattern for Waiting-women, and here's Donna Rodriguez, that will not contradict me. Your Excellency( quoth Rodriguez) may say what you will, God knows all, whether we be good or bad: bearded or smooth, as we are, our Mothers brought us forth as well as other women, and since God cast us into the world, he knows to what end, and I rely vpon his mercy, and no bodies beard.  
Well, mistress Rodriguez, and Lady Trifaldi,( quoth Don Quixote) I hope to God he will behold your sorrows with pitying eyes, and Sancho shall do as I will haue him, if Clauilenno were come once, and that I might encounter Malambruno: for I know, no razor would shave you with more facility, then my sword should shave Malambruno's head from his shoulders, for God permits the wicked, but not for ever.  
Ah( quoth the Afflicted) now all the stars of the heavenly Regions look vpon your greatness, valorous Knight, with a gentle aspect, and infuse all prosperity into your mind, and all valour, and make you the shield and succour of all dejected and reviled Waiting-woman-ship, abominable to Apothecaries, back-bited by Squires, and scoffed at by Pages, and the devill take the quean that in the flower of her youth put not herself in a Nunnery, rather then be a Waiting-woman, unfortunate as we are, for though we descend in a direct line, by man to man from Hector the trojan, yet our Mistresses will never leave bethou-ing of us, though they might be queens for it: O giant Malambruno,( for though thou beest an Enchanter, thou art most sure in thy promises) sand the matchless Clauileno unto us, that our misfortune may haue an end: for if the heats come in, and these beards of ours last, woe be to our ill fortune.  
This the Trifaldi said with so much feeling, that shee drew tears from all the spectators eyes, and stroked them even from Sancho's, so that now he resolved to accompany his Master to the very end of the world, so he might obtain the taking the wool from those venerable faces.   

CHAP. XLI.  
Of Clauileno's arrival, with the end of this dilated adventure.  
IT grew now to bee night, and with it the expected time when Clauileno the famous horse should come, whose delay troubled Don Quixote, thinking that Malambruno deferring to sand him, argued, that either he was not the Knight for whom the adventure was reserved, or that Malambruno durst not come to single combat with him: But look ye now, when all unexpected, four savages entred the Garden, clad all in green Yuie, bearing vpon their shoulders a great wooden horse: they set him vpon his legs on the ground, and one of them said, Let him that hath the courage, get up vpon this Engine.  
Then( quoth Sancho) not I, I haue no courage, I am no Knight, and the Saluage replied, saying, And let his Squire ride behind, and let him be assured, that no sword but Malambruno's shall offend him, and there is no more to be done, but to turn that pin, which is vpon the horses neck, and he will carry them in a moment where Malambruno attends: but lest the height and distance from earth make them light-headed, let them cover their eyes till the horse neigh; a sign that they haue then finished their voyage. This said, with a slow place, they marched out the same way they came.  
The Afflicted, as soon as she saw the horse, with very tears in her eyes, she said to Don Quixote; Valorous Knight, Malambruno hath kept his word, the horse is here, our beards increase, and each of us with every hair of them beseech thee to shave and wheresoe'er us, since there is no more to be done, but that thou and thy Squire both mount, and begin this your happy new voyage. That will I willingly, said Don Quixote, my Lady Trifaldi, without a cushion or spurs, that I may not delay time, so much, Lady, I desire to see you and all these Gentlewomen smooth and clear. Not I( quoth Sancho) neither willingly nor unwillingly, and if this shaving cannot be performed without my riding at the Crupper, let my Master seek some other Squire to follow him, and these Gentlewomen some other means of smoothing themselves; for I am no hag that love to hurry in the air: and what will my Islanders say, when they hear their governor is hovering in the wind? Besides, there being three thousand leagues from hence to Candaya, if the horse should be weary, or the giant offended, wee might bee these half dozen of yeeres ere we return, and then perhaps there would be neither island nor dry-land in the world to aclowledge me: and since 'tis ordinarily said, that delay breeds danger, and he that will not when he may, &c. these gentlewomen's beards shall pardon me, for 'tis good sleeping in a whole skin, I mean, I am very well at home in this house, where I receive so much kindness, and from whose Owner I hope for so great a good, as to see myself a governor.  
To which( quoth the Duke) Friend Sancho, the island that I promised you, is not movable, nor fugitive, it is so deep rooted in the earth, that a great many pulls will not root it up: and since you know, that I know that there is none of these prime kind of Officers, that pays not some kind of bribe, some more, some less, yours for this government shall be, that you accompany your Master Don Quixote to end and finish this memorable adventure, that, whether you return on Clauileno with the brevity that his speed promiseth, or that your contrary fortune bring and return you home on foot like a pilgrim from inn to inn, and from Alehouse to Alehouse; at your coming back, you shall find the island where you left it, and the islanders with the same desire to receive you for their governor, that they haue always had, and my good will shall always bee the same; and doubt not, signor Sancho, of this, for you should do much wrong( in so doing) to the desire I haue to serve you.  
No more, Sir, quoth Sancho, I am a poor Squire, and cannot carry so much courtesy vpon my back: let my Master get up, and blindefolde me, and commend me to God Almighty, and tell me, if, when I mount into this high-flying, I may recommend myself to God, or invoke the Angels that they may favour me.  
To which the Trifaldi answered, You may recommend yourself to God, or to whom you will; for Malambruno, though he bee an Enchanter, yet he is a Christian, and performs his Enchantments with much sagacity, and very warily, without meddling with any body. go to then( quoth Sancho) God and the holy Trinity of Gaeta help me. Since the memorable adventure of the Full-mills( quoth Don Quixote) I never saw Sancho so fearful as now,& if I were as superstitious as some, his pusillanimity would tickle my conscience: but hark thee, Sancho, by these Gentles leaves, I will speak a word or two with thee: and carrying Sancho amongst some trees in the garden, taking him by both the hands, he said, Thou seest, Brother Sancho, the large voyage that we are like to haue, and God knows when wee shall return from it, nor the leisure that our affairs hereafter will give vs. I prithee therefore, retire thyself to thy chamber, as if thou wentst to look for some necessary for the way, and give thyself in a trice, of the three thousand and three hundred lashes, in which thou standest engaged, but five hundred onely: so that the beginning of a business is half the ending of it.  
Verily( quoth Sancho) I think you haue lost your wits, this is just: I am going, and thou art crying out in hast for thy maidenhead, I am now going to sit vpon a bare piece of wood, and you would haue my bumme smart. Beleeue me, you haue no reason, let's now go for the shaving these Matrons, and when we return, Ile promise you to come out of debt: let this content you, and I say no more. Don Quixote made answer, Well, with this promise, Sancho, I am in some comfort, and I beleeue thou wilt accomplish it; for though thou beest a fool, 
here I left cut a line or two of ● dull conceit; so it was no great matter; for in English it could not be expressed.  yet I think thou art honest.  
So now they went to mount Clauileno, and as they were getting up, Don Quixote said, Hud-winke thyself, Sancho, and get up: for he that sends from so far off for us, will not deceive us; for he will get but small glory by it, and though all should succeed contrary to my imagination, yet no malice can obscure the glory of having undergone this adventure. Lets go, Master( quoth Sancho) for the beards& tears of these Gentle-women are nailed in my heart,& I shal not eat a bit, to do me good, till I see them in their former smoothness. Get you up, Sir, and hud wink you self first; for if I must ride behind you, you must needs get up first in the saddle.  
Tis true indeed, said Don Quixote, and taking a hand-kerchiefe out of his pocket, he desired the Afflicted to hid his eyes close:& when it was done, he vncouered himself again,& said; As I remember, I haue red in Virgil of the Palladium, that horse of Troy, that was of wood, that the Grecians presented to the Goddesse Pallas, with child with armed Knights, which after were the total ruin of all Troy, and so it were fit first to try what Clauileno hath in his stomach.  
You need not( said she) for I dare warrant you, and know that Malambruno is neither traitor nor malicious, you may get up without any fear, and vpon me be it, if you receive any hurt. But Don Quixote thought, that every thing thus spoken to his safety, was a detriment of his valour: so, without more exchanging of words, up he got, and tried the pin that easily turned up and down: so with his legs at length, without stirrups, he looked like an Image painted in a piece of Flanders Arras, or woven in some Roman triumph. Sancho got up faire and softly, and with a very ill will, and settling himself the best he could vpon the crupper, found it somewhat hard, and nothing soft, and desired the Duke, that if it were possible, he might haue a cushionet, or for failing, one of the Duchesses cushions of State, or a pillow from one of the Pages beds; for that horses crupper, he said, was rather marble then wood.  
To this( quoth Trifaldi) Clauileno will suffer no kind of furniture nor trapping vpon him: you may do well for your ease, to sit on him woman-wayes, so you will not feel his hardness so much. Sancho did so, and saying farewell, he suffered himself to be bound about the eyes, and after vncouered himself again,& looking pitifully round about the garden with tears in his eyes, he desired that they would in that doleful trance join with him each in a Pater-noster, and an Aue Maria, as God might provide them some to do them that charitable office when they should be in the like trance.  
To which( quoth Don Quixote) Rascall, are you vpon the gallows, trow? or at the last gasp, that you use these kind of supplications? Art thou not, thou soule-lesse cowardly creature, in the same place, where the faire Magalona sate, from whence she descended not to her grave; but to bee queen of France, if Histories lye not? and am not I by thee? cannot I compare with the valorous Pierrs, that pressed this seat, that I now press? Hudwinke, hudwinke thyself, thou dis-heartned Beast, and let not thy fear come forth of thy mouth, at least in my presence. Hudwinke me( quoth Sancho) and since you will not. haue me pray to God, nor recommend me, how can I choose but be afraid, lest so me legion of devils bee here, that may carry us headlong to destruction.  
Now they were hudwinked, and Don Quixote perceiving that all was as it should be, laid hold on the pin, and scarce put his fingers to it, when all the Wayting-women, and as many as were present, lifted up their voices, saying; God be thy speed, Valorous Knight; God be with thee, undaunted Squire: now, now you fly in the air, cutting it with more speed then an arrow: now you begin to suspend, and astonish as many as behold you from earth. Hold, hold, valorous Sancho; for now thou goest waving in the air, take heed thou fall not; for thy fall will be worse then the bold Youths, that desired to govern his father, the Suns, chariot.  
Sancho heard all this, and getting close to his Master, he gird his arms about him, and said; Sir, why do they say we are so high, if wee can hear their voices? and me thinks they talk here hard by vs. Ne're stand vpon that( quoth Don Quixote) for as these kindes of flying are out of the ordinary course of thousands of leagues, thou mayst hear and see any thing, and do not press me so hard; for thou wilt throw me down: and verily, I know not why thou shouldst thus tremble and bee afraid; for I dare swear, in all my life, I never road vpon an easier-paced horse, he goes as if he never moved from the place. Friend, banish fear; for the business goes on successe-fully, and we haue wind at will. indeed tis true, quoth Sancho: for I haue a wind comes so forcibly on this side of me, as if I were blowed vpon by a thousand pair of bellows: and it was true indeed, they were giuing him air, with a very good pair of bellows.  
This adventure was so well contrived by the Duke, the duchess, and the Steward, that there was no requisite wanting, to make it perfect. Don Quixote too feeling the breath, said: undoubtedly, Sancho, wee are now come to the middle Region, where hail, snow, thunder and lightning, and the thunder-bolt are engendered in the third Region,& if we mount long in this manner, we shall quickly be in the Region of fire, and I know not how to use this Pin, that wee mount not where wee shall be scorched.  
Now they heated their faces with flax set on fire, and easy to be quenched, in a cave a far off: and Sancho, that felt the heat, said▪ Hang me, if ●… e be not now in that place where the fire is; for a great part of my heard is sindged: Ile vnblind-fold myself, Master, and see where-abouts we are, do not( quoth Don Quixote) and remember that true tale of the scholar Toralua, whom the devill hoisted 
A Story believed in spain as gospel.  up into the air a horseback on a reede, with his eyes shut, and in twelve houres he arrived at Rome, and lighted at the tower of Nona, which is one of the streets of the City,& saw all the mis-chance, the assault& death of Borbon, and the morrow after returned back to Madrid, where he related all that he had seen: who also said, that as he went in the air, the devill bid him open his eyes, which he did, and saw himself, as he thought, so near the body of the Moon, that he might haue touched her with his hands, and that he durst not look toward the earth, for fear to be made giddy. So that, Sancho, there is no uncovering us; for he that hath the charge of carrying us will look to us, and peradventure wee go doubling of points, and mounting on high to fall even with the kingdom of Candaya, as doth the Sacar or hawk vpon the Heron to catch her, mount shee never so high; and, though it seem to us not half an hour, since we partend from the garden, beleeue me, we haue traveled a great way.  
I know not what belongs to it( quoth Sancho) but this I know, that if your Lady Magallanes, or Magalona were pleased with my seat, she was not very tender-breecht. All these discourses of the two most valiant were heard by the Duke and duchess, and them in the garden, which gave them extraordinary content: who willing to make an end of this strange and well-composed adventure, clapped fire with some flax at Clauileno's tail: and strait the horse, being stuffed with Crackers, flew into the air, making a strange noise, and threw Don Quixote and Sancho both on the ground, and sindged. And now all the bearded Squadron of the Matrons vanished out of the garden, and Trifaldi too and all, and they that remained, counterfeited a dead swoon, and lay all along vpon the ground.  
Don Quixote and Sancho, ill-intreated, rose up, and looking round about, they wondered to see themselves in the same garden, from whence they had partend, and to see such a company of people laid vpon the ground: and their admiration was the more increased, when on one side of the garden, they saw a great lance fastened in the ground, and a smooth white piece of parchment hanging at it, with two twisted strings of green silk, in which the following words were written with letters of gold.  
THe famous& valorous Knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, finished and ended the adventure of the countess Trifaldi, otherwise called, The Afflicted Matron, and her Company, onely with undertaking it.  
Malambruno is satisfied and contented with all his heart, and now the Wayting-womens chins are smooth and clean, and the Princes Don Clanixo and Antonomasia are in their pristine being, and when the Squires whipping shall bee accomplished, the white Pigeon shall be free from the pestiferous Ier-Falcons that persecute her, and in her loved Lullers arms; for so it is ordained by the sage Merlin, Proto-Enchanter of Enchanters.  
When Don Quixote had red these letters of the parchment, he understood plainly, that they spoken of the dis-enchanting of Dulcinea, and giuing many thankes to heaven, that with so little danger he had ended so great an exploit, as reducing the faces of the venerable Wayting-women, to their former smoothness, that were now gone: he went towards the Duke and the duchess, who were not as yet come to themselves, and taking the Duke by the hand, he said; Courage, courage, noble Sir, all's nothing, the adventure is now ended, without breaking of bars, as you may plainly see by the writing there in that Register.  
The Duke( like one that riseth out of a profound sleep) by little and little came to himself, and in the same Tenor the duchess, and all they that were down in the garden, with such shows of marvell and wonderment, that they did even seem to persuade, that those things had happened to them in earnest, which they counterfeited in iest. The Duke red the scroll with his eyes half shut; and strait, with open arm, he went to embrace Don Quixote, telling him he was the bravest Knight that ever was. Sancho looked up and down for the Afflicted, to see what manner of face shee had, now shee was dis-bearded, and if shee were so faire, as her gallant presence made show for: but they  told him, that as Clauileno came down burning in the air, and lighted on the ground, all the Squadron of Wayting-women with Trifaldi vanished, and now they were shaved and vnfeathered.  
The duchess asked Sancho, how he did in that long voyage? To which he answered, I, Madam, thought( as my Master  told me) we passed by the Region of fire, and I would haue vncouered myself a little; but my Master( of whom I asked leave) would not let me: but I that haue certain curious itches, and a desire to know what is forbidden me, softly, without being perceived, drew up the handkerchiffe that blinded me, a little above my nose, and there I saw the earth, and me thoughts it was no bigger then a grain of Mustard-seed, and the men that walked vpon it, somewhat bigger then Hazel-nuts, that you may see how high we were then. To this( said the duchess) Take heed, friend Sancho, what you say; for it seems you saw not the earth, but the men that walked on it: for it is plain, that if the earth shewed no bigger then a grain of staid, and every man like a Hazel-nut, one man alone would cover the whole earth.  
Tis true indeed( quoth Sancho) but I looked on one side of it, and saw it all. look you, Sancho( quoth the duchess) one cannot see all of a thing by one side. I cannot tell what belongs to your seeing. Madam( quoth Sancho) but you must think, that since wee flew by Enchantment; by Enchantment, I might see the whole earth and all the men, which way soever I looked: and if you beleeue not this, neither will you beleeue, that uncovering myself about my eyebrows, I saw myself so near heaven, that betwixt it and me there was not a handful and a half; and I dare swear, Madam, that 'tis a huge thing: and it happened that we went that way where the seven Shee-goat-starres were, and in my soul and conscience, I having been a Goat-heard in my youth, as soon as I saw them, I had a great desire to pass some time with them; which had I not done, I thought I should haue burst. Well, I come then, and I take; What do I do? without giuing notice to any body? no, not to my Master himself: faire and softly I lighted from Clauileno, and played with the Goates that were like white Violets, and such pretty flowers, some three quarters of an hour, and Clauileno moved not a whit all this while.  
And while Sancho was playing with the Goats all this while, quoth the Duke, what did signor Don Quixote? To which( quoth Don Quixote) As all these things are quiter out of their natural course, tis not much that Sancho hath said: onely for me, I say, I neither perceived myself higher or lower, neither saw I heaven, or Earth, or Seas, or Sands. True it is, that I perceived I passed thorough the middle Region, and came to the fire: but to think we passed from thence, I cannot beleeue it; for the Region of fire being between the moon, and heaven, and the latter Region of the air, wee could not come to heaven, where the seven Goats are, that Sancho talks of, without burning ourselves: which since wee did not, either Sancho lies or dreams.  
I neither lye nor dream, quoth Sancho; for ask me the signs of those Goats, and by them you shall see whether I tell true or no. Tell them, Sancho, quoth the duchess. Two of them( quoth Sancho) are green, two bloud-red, two blew, and one mixt-coloured. here's a new kind of Goats( quoth the Duke) in our Region of the earth wee haue no such coloured ones. Oh, you may bee sure( quoth Sancho) there's difference between those and these. Tell me, Sancho( quoth the Duke) did you see amongst those Shee's 
An equivocal question; for in spain they use to call Cuckolds, Cabrones, He-goats.  any He-goat? No, Sir( quoth Sancho) for I heard say that none passed the horns of the moon.  
They would ask him no more touching his voyage; for it seemed to them, that Sancho had a clew to carry him all heaven over, and to tell all that passed there, without stirring out of the garden. In conclusion, this was the end of the adventure of the Afflicted Matron, that gave occasion of mirth to the Dukes, not onely for the present; but for their whole life-time, and to Sancho to recount for many ages, if he might live so long. But Don Quixote whispering Sancho in the ear,  told him; Sancho, since you will haue us beleeue all that you haue seen in heaven, I pray beleeue all that I saw in Montesino's cave, and I say no more.   

CHAP. XLII.  
Of the advice that Don Quixote gave Sancho Pansa, before he should go to govern the island, with other matter well digested.  
THe Dukes were so pleased with the happy and pleasant success of the adventure of The Afflicted, that they determined to go on with their jests, seeing the fit subject they had, to make them pass for earnest; so having contrived and given order to their seruants& vassals, that they should obey Sancho in his government of the promised island, the next day after the iest of Clauileno's flight, the Duke bade Sancho prepare, and put himself in order, to go to be governor; for that now his islanders did as much desire him, as showers in May.  
Sancho made an obeisance to him, and said; Since I came down from heaven, and since from on high I beholded the earth, and saw it so small, I was partly cooled in my desire to be a governor; for what greatness can there be, to command in a grain of staid? or what dignity or power to govern half a dozen of men about the bigness of Hazel-nuts? for to my thinking, there were no more in all the earth. If it would please your Lordship to give me never so little in heaven, though twere but half a league, I would take it more willingly then the biggest island in the world. look ye, friend Sancho( quoth the Duke) I can give no part of heaven to no body, though it be no bigger then my nail: for these favours and graces: are onely in Gods disposing. What is in my power, I give you, that is, an island, right and strait, round and well-proportioned, and extraordinarily fertile and abundant, where, if you haue the Art, you may with the riches of earth, hoard up the treasure of heaven.  
Well then( quoth Sancho) give us this island, and in spite of Rascals Ile go to heaven; and yet for no covetousness to leave my poor Cottage, or to get me into any Palaces, but for the desire I haue to know what kind of thing it is to bee a governor.  
If once you prove it, Sancho, quoth the Duke, you will be in love with governing; so sweet a thing it is to command, and to be obeied. I warrant, when your Master comes to be an Emperour, for without doubt he will be one( according as his affairs go on) that he will not bee drawn from it, and it will grieve him to the soul, to haue been so long otherwise.  
Sir,( quoth Sancho) I suppose 'tis good to command, though it be but a head of cattle.  
Let me live and die with thee, Sancho,( quoth the Duke) for thou knowest all, and I hope thou wilt be such a governor as thy discretion promiseth, and let this suffice; and note, that to morrow about this time thou shalt go to the government of thy island, and this afternoon thou shalt be fitted with convenient apparel to carry with thee, and all things necessary for thy departure.  
Clad me( quoth Sancho) how you will, for howsoever ye clad me, Ile be still Sancho Pansa.  
You are in the right( quoth the Duke) but the Robes must be suitable to the Office or dignity which is professed; for it were not fit that a Lawyer should be clad like a soldier, or a soldier like a Priest. You, Sancho, shall bee clad, partly like a Lawyer, and partly like a captain: for in the island that I give you, arms are as requisite as Learning.  
I haue little learning( quoth Sancho) for as yet I scarce know my A. B. C. but 'tis enough that I haue my Christs cross ready in my memory to bee a good governor. Ile manage my weapon till I fall again, and God help me. With so good a memory( quoth the Duke) Sancho cannot do amiss.  
By this time Don Quixote came, and knowing what passed, and that Sancho was so speedily to go to his government, with the Dukes leave, he took him by the hand, and carried him aside, with a purpose to aduise him how he should behave himself in his Office. When they came into Don Quixote's chamber, the door being shut, he forced Sancho, as it were to sit down by him, and with a stayed voice said:  
I give infinite thankes, friend Sancho, that before I haue received any good fortune, thou hast met with thine: I that thought to haue rewarded thy service with some good lucke of mine to haue saved that labour, and thou suddenly past all expectation hast thy desires accomplished, others bribe, importune, solicit, rise early, entreat, grow obstinate, and obtain not what they sue for; and another comes hab-nab, and goes away with the place or Office, that many others sought for,& here the proverb comes in and joins well; that, give a man luck, and cast him in the Sea. Thou, that in my opinion art a very Goose, without early rising, or late sitting up, without any labour, onely the breath of Knight-Errantry breathing on thee, without any more ado art governor of an island, a matter of nothing. All this I say, Sancho, that thou attribute not this happiness to thy deserts, but that thou give God thankes, that sweetly disposeth things; next, thou shalt impute them to the greatness of the profession of Knight Errantry.( Thy heart then disposed to beleeue what I haue said) be attentive, oh my son, to this thy Cato, that will aduise thee, be thy north-star and guide to direct and bring thee to a safe port, out of this troublesone Sea where thou goest to engulf thyself in; for your Offices and great charges are nothing else but a profound gulf of confusions.  
First of all, O son, thou must fear God: for to fear him, is wisdom, and being wise, thou canst err in nothing.  
Secondly, thou must consider who thou art, and know thyself, which is the hardest kind of knowledge that may be imagined: from this knowledge thou shalt learn not to be swollen like the frog, that would equal himself with the ox, for if thou do this, thou shalt( falling down the wheel of thy madness) come to know thou wert but a hogge-keeper.  
That's true( quoth Sancho) but 'twas when I was a boy: but after, when I grew to be somewhat mannish, I kept goose, and not hogs: but this me thinks is nothing to the purpose, for all they that govern, come not from the loins of Kings.  
Tis true( said Don Quixote) therefore these that haue no noble beginnings, must mix the gravity of their charge they exercise, with mild sweetness, which, guided with wisdom, may free them from malicious murmuring, from which no state or calling is free.  
rejoice, oh Sancho, in the humility of thy lineage,& scorn not to say, thou comest of labouring men, for when thou art not ashamed thyself, no body will seek to make thee so, and always strive to be held mean and virtuous, rather then proud and vicious: an infinite number from low beginnings haue come to great risings, as pontificial and imperial dignities: and to confirm this, I could bring thee so many examples as should weary thee.  
Note, Sancho, that if you follow virtue for your mean, and strive to do virtuous deeds, you need not envy those that are born of Princes and great men, for blood is inherited, but virtue is achieved, virtue is of worth by itself alone, so is not birth.  
Which being so, if perchance any of thy kindred come to see thee when thou art in thy island, refuse him not, nor affront him, but entertain, welcome, and make much of him, for with this, God will be pleased, that would haue no body despise his making, and thou shalt also in this correspond to good nature.  
If thou bring thy wife with thee( for it were not fit that those who are to govern long, should be without them) teach her, instruct her, refine her natural rudeness: for many times all that a discreet governor gets, a clownish foolish woman spills and loses.  
If thou chance to be a widower( a thing that may happen) and desire to mary again, take not such a one as may serve thee for a bait and fishing rod to take bribes: for let me tell thee, the husband must give an account of all that( being a judge) his wife receives, and at the general resurrection, shall pay fourfold what he hath been accused for in his life-time.  
never pronounce iudgement rash or wilfully, which is very frequent with ignorant Iudges, that presume to be skilful.  
Let the tears of the poor find more compassion( but not more iustice) then the informations of the rich.  
seek as well to discover the truth, from out the promises and corruptions of the rich, as the sobs and importunities of the poor.  
When equity is to take place, lay not all the rigour of the law, vpon the delinquent; for the famed of the rigorous judge, is not better then of the compassionate.  
If thou slacken Iustice, let it not be with the weight of a bribe; but with the weight of pitty.  
When thou happenest to judge thine enemies case, forget thy injury, and respect equity.  
Let not proper passion blind thee in another mans cause, for the errors thou shalt commit in that, most commonly are incurable, or if they be helped, it must be with thy wealth and credit.  
If any faire woman come to demand iustice of thee, turn thy eyes from her tears, and thy ears from her lamentations, and consider at leisure the sum of her requests, except thou mean that thy reason be drowned in her weeping, and thy goodness in her sighs.  

A good Item to our Iudges of the Commō Law.  Him that thou must punish with deeds, revile not with words, since to a wretch the punishment is sufficient, without adding ill language.  
For the delinquent that is under thy jurisdiction, consider that the miserable man is subject to the temptations of our depraved nature, and as much as thou canst, without grievance to the contrary party, show thyself mild& gentle, for although Gods attributes are equal, yet to our sight his mercy is more precious and more eminent then his iustice.  
If Sancho, thou follow these rules and precepts, thy daies shall be long, thy famed eternal, thy rewards full, thy happiness indelible, thou shalt mary thy children how thou wilt, they shall haue titles, and thy grandchidren, thou shalt live in peace and love of all men, and when thy life is ending, death shall take thee in a mature old age, and thy nephews shall close thy eyes with their tender and delicate hands.  
Those I haue  told thee hitherto, are documents, concerning thy soul; to adorn it, harken now to those that must serve for the adorning thy body.   

CHAP. XLIII.  
Of the second advice that Don Quixote gave Sancho Pansa.  
WHo could haue heard this discourse, and not held Don Quixote for a most wise parsonage, and most honest? But as it hath been often  told in the progress of this large History, he was onely besotted, when he touched vpon his cavalry, and in the rest of his talk he shewed a clear and currant apprehension: so that every foot his works bewrayed his iudgement, and his iudgement his works. But in these second documents he gave now to Sancho, he shew'd a great deal of lenity, and balanced his iudgement and his madness in an equal Scale. Sancho hearkened most attentively unto him, and strove to bear in mind his instructions, as thinking to observe them, and by them to be very well delivered of his big-swolne government. Don Quixote proceeded, saying;  
Touching the governing thine own person and household, Sancho, the first thing I enjoin thee to, is to be cleanly, and to pair thy nailes, not letting them grow, as some do, whose ignorance hath made them think 'tis a fine thing to haue long nailes, as if that excrement and superfluity that they let grow, were onely their nailes, rather the claws of a lizard-bearing Castrell, and a foul abuse it is.  
go not vn-girt or loose, for a slovenly garment is a sign of a careless mind, if so be this kind of slovenly looseness be not to some cunning end, as it was judged to be in Iulius Caesar.  
Consider with discretion what thy government may bee worth,& if it will afford thee to bestow liveries on thy seruants, give them decent and profitable ones, rather then gaudy or sightly, and so give thy cloth amongst thy seruants& the poor, I mean, that if thou haue six Pages, give three of them liveries, and three to the poor, so shalt thou haue Pages in earth, and in heaven: and your vainglorious haue not attained to this kind of giuing liveries.  
Eat not garlic or Onions, that thy Pesantry may not bee known by thy breath: walk softly, and speak stayedly, but not so as if it appeared thou hearkenedst to thyself, for all kind of affectation is nought.  
Eat little at dinner, but less at supper, for the health of the whole body is forged in the forge of the stomach.  
Be temperate in drinking, considering that too much wine neither keeps secret, nor fulfils promise.  
Take heed, Sancho, of chewing on both sides, or to ruct before any body.  
I understand not your ructing, quoth Sancho: to ruct( quoth he) is as much as to belch, and this is one of the foulest words our language hath, though it be very significant; so your more neat people haue gotten the Latin word, and call belching, ructing,& belchers, ructers: and though some perhaps understand not this, tis no great matter, for use and custom will introduce them that they may easily be understood, and the power that the vulgar and custom hath, is the enriching of a language.  
Truly( said Sancho) one of your advices that I mean to remember, shall be not to belch, for I am used to do it often. Ruct, Sancho, not belch, quoth Don Quixote. Ruct I will say, quoth he, hence-forward, and not forget it.  
Likewise, Sancho, you must not intermix your discourse with that multiplicity of proverbs you use; for though proverbs be witty short sentences, yet thou bringest them in so by head and shoulders, that they are rather absurdities then sentences. This( quoth Sancho) God Almighty can onely help, for I haue more proverbs then a book will hold,& when I speak, they come so thick to my mouth, that they fall out,& strive one with another, who shall come out first: but my tongue casts out the first it meets withall, though they bee nothing to the purpose, but I will haue a care hereafter, to speak none but shall be fitting to the gravity of my place; for where there is plenty, the guests are not empty, and he that works, doth not care for play, and he is in safety that stands under the bells, and his iudgement's rare, that can spend and spare.  
Now, now, quoth Don Quixote, glue, thread, fasten thy proverbs together, no body comes: the more thou art  told a thing, the more thou dost it; I bid thee leave thy proverbs, and in an instant thou hast cast out a litany of vm, that are as much to the purpose, as, To morrow I found a horse-shoo. look thee Sancho, I find not fault with a proverb brought in to some purpose, but to load and heap on proverbs huddling together, makes a discourse wearisome and base.  
When thou getst on horseback, do not go casting thy body all vpon the crupper, nor carry thy legs stiff down, and straddling from the horses belly, nor yet so loosely, as if thou wert still riding on thy Dapple, for your horse-riding makes some appear Gentlemen, others grooms.  
Let thy sleep be moderate, for he that riseth not with the sun, loseth the day: and observe, Sancho, that diligence is the mother of good Fortune, and sloth the contrary, that never could satisfy a good desire.  
This last advice that I mean to give thee, though it be not to the adorning of the body, yet I would haue thee bear it in thy memory; for I beleeue it will bee of no less use to thee, then those that I haue hitherto given thee, and it is,  
That thou never dispute of lineages, comparing them together, since of necessity amongst those that are compared, one must be the better, and of him thou debasest thou shalt bee abhorred, and of him ennoblest, not a whit rewarded.  
Let thy apparel be a pained hose, and long stockings, a long-skirted jacket, and a cloak of the longest: but long hose by no means, for they become neither Gentlemen nor Gouernours.  
This is all, Sancho, I will aduise thee to for the present; as the time and occasions serve hereafter, so shall my instructions bee, so that thou be careful to let me know how thou dost.  
Sir,( quoth Sancho) I see well that you haue  told me nothing but what is good, holy, and profitable: but to what purpose, if I remember nothing? True it is that, that of not letting my nailes grow, and to mary again if need be, I shall not forget; but your other slabber-sawces, your tricks and quillets, I cannot remember them, nor shall not, no more then last yeeres clouds: therefore I pray let me haue them in writing, for though I can neither writ nor red, Ile give them to my Confessor, that he may frame them into me, and make me capable of them at time of need.  
Wretch that I am, quoth Don Quixote, how ill it appears in a governor, not to writ or read! for know, Sancho, that for a man not to red, or not to be left-handed, argues that either he was a son of mean Parents, or so unhappy and untowardly, that no good would prevail on him.  
I can set to my name, quoth Sancho, for when I was Constable of our town, I learnt to make certain letters, such as are set to mark trusses of stuff, which they said spelt my name: Besides now, Ile fain that my right hand is maimed, and so another shall firm for me; for theres a remedy for every thing but death; and since I bear sway, Ile do what I list: for according to the proverb. 
A troope of absurd speeches still to Sancho's part.  He that hath the judge to his Father, &c. and I am governor, which is more then judge. I, I, let vm come and play at boe-peepe, let vm backe-bite me, let vm come for wool, and Ile sand them back shorne; whom God loues, his house is savoury to him, and every man bears with the rich mans follies, so I being rich, and a governor, and liberal too, as I mean to be, I will be without all faults. No, no, pray be dainty, and see what will become on't, haue much, and thou shalt be esteemed much, quoth a grandam of mine, and might overcomes right.  
Oh, a plague on thee, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) threescore thousand Satans take thee and thy proverbs, this hour thou hast been stringing them one vpon another, and giuing me tormenting potions with each of them: I assure thee, that one of these dayes these proverbs will carry thee to the gallows, for them thy vassals will bereave thee of thy government, or there will be a community amongst them. Tell me, ignorant, Where dost thou find them all? or how dost thou apply them, Ninny-hammer? for, for me to speak one and apply it well, it makes me sweat and labour, as if I had digged.  
Assuredly, Master mine, quoth Sancho, a small matter makes you angry: why the devill do you pine that I make use of my own goods? for I haue no other, nor any other stock but proverbs vpon proverbs: and now I haue four that fall out jump to the purpose, like pears for a working basket: but I will say nothing, for now Sancho shall be called Silence: Rather babbling, quoth Don Quixote, or Obstinacy itself; yet I would fain know what four proverbs they be that came into thy mind, so to the purpose; for I can think vpon none, yet I haue a good memory.  
What better) said Sancho) then Meddle not with a hollow tooth: And, Go from my house, What will you haue with my wife? Theres no answering: and, If the pot fall vpon the ston, or the ston on the pot, ill for the pot, ill for the ston; all which are much to the purpose. That no body meddle with their governor, nor with their superior, lest they haue the worst, as he that puts his hand to his teeth( so they be not hollow, tis no matter if they be teeth) whatsoever the governor says, there is no replying, as in saying, Get you from my house, and, What will you haue with my wife? and that of the pot and the ston, a blind man may perceive it: so that he that sees the moat in another mans eye, let him see the beam in his own, that it may not be said by him, The dead was afraid of her that was flayd. And you know, Sir, that the fool knows more in his own house, then the wise man doth in anothers.  
Not so, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote:) for the fool, neither in his own house nor anothers, knows ought, by reason that no wise edisice is seated vpon the increase of his folly: and let us leave this, Sancho, for if thou govern ill, thou must bear the fault, and mine must be the shane; but it comforts me that I haue done my duty in advising thee truly, and as discreetly as I could, and with this I haue accomplished with my obligation, and God speed thee Sancho, and govern thee in thy government, and bring me out of the scruple I am in, that thou wilt turn thy government with the heels upwards, which I might prevent, by letting the Duke know thee better, and telling him, that all that fatness, and little corps of thine, is nothing but a sack of proverbs and knavery.  
Sir( quoth Sancho) if you think I am not fit for this government, from henceforward I lose it: I had rather haue a poor little scrap of the nail of my soul, then my whole body: and I can as well keep myself with, plain Sancho, a loaf and an onion, as a governor with Capons& Partridges: and whilst we are asleep, all are alike: great and small, poor and rich: and if you consider on't, you shall find, that you onely put me into this vein of governing: for I know no more what belongs to governing of islands then a Vulture, and rather, then in being a governor, the divell shall fetch my soul; I had rather be Sancho, and go to heaven, then a governor and go to hell. truly, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote: for these last words thou hast spoken, I deem thee worthy to govern a thousand islands; thou hast a good natural capacity, without which no science is worth ought; serve God, and err not in thy main intentions, I mean that thou always haue a firm purpose and intent, to be sure in all businesses that shall occur, because heaven always favours good desires, and let's go dine: for I beleeue now the Lords expect vs.   

CHAP. XLIV.  
How Sancho Pansa was carried to his government, and of the strange adventure that befell Don Quixote in the Castle.  
TIs said, that in the original of this History, it is red, that when Cid Hamete came to writ this Chapter, the Interpreter translated it not as he had written it, which was kind a of complaint of himself, that he undertook so dry and barren a story, as this of Don Quixote, because it seemed that Don Quixote and Sancho were the sole speakers, and that he durst not enlarge himself with other digressions, or graver accidents and more delightful: and he said, That to haue his invention, his hand and his quill, tied to one sole subject, and to speak by the mouths of few, was a most in supportable labour, and of no benefit to the Author: so that to avoid this inconvenience, in the first part he used the Art of Nouels, as one, of The Curious Impertinent, another of The captived captain, which are( as it were) separated from the History, though the rest that are there recounted, are matters that happened to Don Quixote, which could not but be set down: he was of opinion likewise, as he said, that many being carried away with attention to Don Quixotes exploits, would not heed his Nouels, and skip them, either for hast or irkesomnesse, without noting the cunning workmanship, and framing of them, which would be plainly shown, if they might come to light by themselves alone, without Don Quixotes madness, or Sancho's simplicities; therefore in this second part, he would not enfeoff loose Nouels, or adjoining to the Story, but certain accidents that might bee like unto them, sprung from the passages that the truth itself offers, and these too sparing, and with words only proper to declare them: and since, he is shut up and contained in the limits of this narration, having understanding, sufficiency and ability to treat of all, his request is, that his labour bee not contemned, but rather that he bee commended, not for what he writes, but for what he hath omitted to writ: so he goes on with his History, saying;  
That when Don Quixote had dined, the same day that he gave Sancho his instructions, in the afternoon he let him haue them in writing, that he might seek some body to red them to him: but as soon as ever he had given him them, he lost them, and they came to the Dukes hands, who shewed them to the duchess; and both of them afresh admired at Don Quixotes madness, and his understanding together: and so going forward with their jests, that afternoon they sent Sancho well accompanied to the place, that to him seemed an island.  
It fell out then that the charge of this business was laid vpon a Steward of the Dukes, a good wise fellow, and very conceited; for there can be no wit that is not governed with discretion; he it was that played the countess Trisaldis part, with the cunning that hath been related, with this and with his Masters instructions how he should behave himself towards Sancho, he performed his task marvelously. I say then, that it happened, that as Sancho saw the Steward, the very face of Trifaldi came into his mind, and turning to his Master, he said: Sir, the divell bear me from hence just as I beleeue, if you do not confess, that this Steward of the Dukes here present, hath the very countenance of the Afflicted.  
Don Quixote earnestly beholded the Steward, and having thoroughly seen him, said to Sancho: There is no need of the divels taking thee just as thou believest( for I know not what thou meanest) for the Afflicteds face is just the same that the Stewards is: but for all that, the Steward is not the Afflicted; for, to bee so, were a manifest contradiction, and now tis no time to sift out these things, which were to enter into an intricate Labyrinth: beleeue me, friend; 'twere fit to pray to God very earnestly, to deliver us from these damned Witches and Enchanters. Tis no jesting matter, quoth Sancho, for I heard him speak before, and me thought the very voice of Trifaldi sounded in my ears.  
Well, I will bee silent: but yet I will see henceforward, if I can discover any sign to confirm or foregoe my iealousy. You may do so, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote; and you shall give me notice of all that in this business you can discover, and of all that shall befall you in your government.  
Sancho in conclusion departed with a great troope, clad like a Lawyer,& vpon his back he had a goodly tawny riding Coat of watered Chamlet, and a Hunters Cap of the same, he road vpon a he moil 
The stirrups short, and his legs trussed up.  after the Ginet fashion, and behind him, by the Dukes order, his Dapple was led, with trappings and Asse-like ornaments all of silk: Sancho turned his head now and then to look vpon his ass, with whose company he was so well pleased, that he would not haue changed to haue been Emperour of Germany. At parting he kissed the Dukes hands, and received his Masters benediction, who gave it him with tears, and Sancho received it with blubberings.  
Now, Reader, let honest Sancho part in peace and in good time, and expect two bushels of laughter, which his demeanour in his government will minister to thee: and in the mean time, mark what befell his Master, that very night: for if it make thee not laugh outright, yet it will cause thee show thy teeth, and grin like an Ape: for Don Quixotes affairs must either bee solemnized with admiration or laughter.  
Tis said then, that Sancho was scarce departed, when Don Quixote resented his solitariness, and if it had been possible for him to haue revoked his Commission, or taken away his government, he would haue done it.  
The duchess knew his Melancholy, and asked him why he was so sad: for if it were for Sancho's absence, shee had Squires, and Waiting-women, and Damozels in her house, that would do him all service.  
True it is, Madam, quoth Don Quixote, that I resent Sancho's absence: but that is not the principal cause, that makes me appear sad: and of those many kindnesses, that your Excellency offers me, I onely accept and make choice of the good will with which they are offered, and for the rest, I humbly beseech your excellency, that you give me leave in my Chamber to serve myself.  
truly, signor Don Quixote, quoth the duchess, it must not be so: for four of my Damozels shall wait vpon you, as faire as flowers. They shall be no flowers to me( quoth he) but very thorns, that prick my soul. They shall fly as soon as enter into my Chamber, or come near me. If your greatness will continue in your favours towards me, let this be one, that I may serve myself within mine own doors, that I may put a wall in midst of my desires and honesty; and I will not foregoe this custom, for all the liberality that your Highnesse will show unto. To conclude, I will rather sleep in my clothes, then yield that any body shall help to vndresse me.  
Enough enough, signor Don Quixote( quoth the duchess) for my part, Ile give order that not so much as a Fly, shall come within your distance, much less a damosel: I am none of those that would make signor Don Quixote transcend his decency▪ 〈◇〉 as I haue a kind of glimmering, one of signor Don Quixote● most eminent virtues, is his honesty. Vndresse yourself, and go to bed alone after your own fashion how you will, and no body shal hinder you,& in your chamber you shal haue al things necessary, and lock your door to you: your vessels shall be ready, that no natural cause make you rise to open your door.  
Long live the Grand Dulcinea deal Toboso, and her name far extended vpon the Globe of the earth, since she deserved to bee beloved of so honest and valiant a Knight: and the gracious heauens infuse into Sancho Pansa our governor his heart, a desire to finish the disciplining of himself quickly, that the world may re-enioy the beauty of so great a Lady.  
To which( quoth Don Quixote) your Highnesse hath spoken like yourself: for no ill thing can proceed from the mouth of so good a Lady, and Dulcinea shall be the more happy, and more esteemed in the world, in that your greatness hath praised her, then if she had had the praises of the best Rhetoricians in the world.  
Well: go too, signor Don Quixote( quoth the duchess) tis now supper time, and the Duke expects us; come, Sir, let's sup, and to bed betimes: for your voyage yesterday from Candaya, was not so short, but it hath left some weariness in you.  
None at all, Lady( quoth he:) for I may swear to your excellency, that in my life time I never road vpon a gentler nor bettter-paced Beast then Clauileno; and I know no reason why Malambruno should lose so swift and so gentle a horse, and so burn him without more ado.  
You may imagine( quoth she) that he repenting him of the hurt he had done Trifaldi and her company, and many others; and of the wickedness, that as a Witch& Enchanter he had committed) would destroy the instruments of his office; and so burnt Clauileno as the chiefest of them; and that which did most disquiet him, roving up and down; and so with his burnt ashes, and the trophy of the scroll, Don Quixotes valour is eternalized.  
Don Quixote afresh gave fresh thankes to the duchess: and when he had supped, he retired to his Chamber alone, without permitting any body to serve him, he was so afraid to meet with occasions that might induce him to forget the honest Decorum due to his Lady Dulcinea, Amadis his goodness being always in his imagination, the flower and Looking-glasse of Knights errand.  
The door he shut after him, and vndressed himself by the light of two wax Candles, as he pulled off his stockings( Oh ill lucke unworthy such a parsonage) there broken from him, not sighs or any such thing that might discredit his cleanly neatness, but some four and twenty stitches and a half, that made his stocking look like a Lettice-window: the good Knight was extremely afflicted, and would haue given for a dram of green silk, an ounce of silver: green silk, I say, for his stockings were green: and here Benengeli exclaimed, saying: Oh poverty, poverty, I know not what moved thrt famous cordovan Poet, to call thee holy thankless gift. For I that am a Moore, know very well, by the communication I haue had with Christians, that holinesse consists in charity, humility, Faith, Obedience and poverty: but yet a man had need haue ● special grace from God, that can be contented, being poor, except it be with such a kind of poverty, as one of the greatest Saints speaks of: esteem of all things as if you had them not, and this is called poorness of Spirit. But thou, second poverty,( of that kind that I mean) why dost thou mix thyself with Gentlemen, and those that be well born? Why dost thou make them cobble their shoes; and that the Buttons of their jerkins, be some silk, others hair, others glass? Why must their ruffs for the most part be vnset Lettice-wayes, and not set with the stick?( and by this you may perceive how ancient the use of Starch is, and of setting ruffs. He proceeds: unhappy he, that being well born, puts his credit to shifts, as by ill faring, with his door locked to him, 
He describes the right custom of his hungry country men in general.  making his Tooth-picker an Hypocrite, with which he comes to the street door picking his teeth, though he haue eat nothing that should require such cleanelinesse. unhappy he, I say, whose credit is skarred, and thinks that a patch vpon his shoo is spied a League off, or the thorough sweeting of his Hat, or the thred-barenesse of his cloak, or the hunger of his Maw. All this was renewed in Don Quixote by the breach of his Stocking: but his comfort was, that Sancho had left him a pair of Bootes, which he thought to put on the next day. Finally, to bed he went heavy and pensative, as well for want of Sancho's company, as for the irreparable misfortune of his Stocking, whose stitches he would haue taken up, though it had been with silk of another colour, which is one of the greatest signs of misery, that may befall a Gentleman in the progress of his prolix necessity. He put out the lights, twas hot, and he could not sleep; so he rose from his bed, and opened a little the lidde of an Iron window that looked toward a faire garden; and opening it, he perceived and heard people stirring and talking in the Garden; they below raised their voices; insomuch, that these speeches might be heard:  
Be not so earnest with me, O Emerencia, to haue me sing: for thou knowest that ever since this stranger hath been in the Castle, and that mine eyes beholded him, I cannot sing, but weep: besides, my Ladies sleep is rather short, then sound; and I would not that she should know we were here, for al the goods in the world: and though she should sleep, and not wake, my singing yet were in vain, if this new Aeneas sleep, and wake not to give ear to it, this, that is come into my kingdom to leave me scorned and forsaken.  
think not of that, friend Altisidora( said they) for doubtless the duchess and every body else in the house is asleep, except the Master of thy heart, and thy souls alarum; for now I heard him open his window, and he is certainly awake: sing poor grieved wretch, in a low and sweet tune, to the sound of thy harp, and if the duchess should perceive it: our excuse shall be, that we are here by reason tis so hote within doors.  
Tis not for our being here, O Emerencia, quoth Altisidora, but that I am not willing my Song should discover my heart; and that I should bee held by those that haue no notice of the powerful force of love, for a longing and light housewife: but come what will on it, better shane in the face, then a spot in the heart: and with this shee heard a harp most sweetly played on. Which when Don Quixote heard, it amazed him: and in the instance an infinite company of adventures came into his mind, of windows, Grates, Gardens, music, Courting, and fopperies, that he had red in his sottish books of Knighthood; and strait he imagined that some damosel of the Duchesses was enamoured on him, and that her honesty enforced her to conceal her affection, he was afraid lest he should yield, but firmly purposed not to be vanquished; so recommending himself, heart and soul, to his Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, he determined to harken to the music: and that they might know he was there, he feigned a sneeze which not a little pleased the Damozels, that desired nothing else: so Altisidora running on, and running her harp, began this Song:  

Thou that in thy bed dost lie,  
In midst of Holland sheets;  
Sleeping with thy legs Out-stretcht,  
All night long until the morn,   

Oh thou Knight the valiantest,  
That all Mancha hath produced,  
More honest, and more blessed withall,  
Then the fin'st Arabia gold,   

hear a-Dam'zell sorrowful,  
Tall of growth; but ill sh' hath thrived:  
That, with light of thy two suins,  
feels her soul inflamed and scorched.   

Thou thy adventures followest,  
Others mis-aduentures findest,  
Thou giv'st wounds; and yet deeny'st,  
To give healing remedy.   

Tell me, O thou valiant youth:  
( God increase thy maladies)  
Wert thou bread in Africa,  
Or in Iaca Mountainous?   

Serpents nourish thee with milk.  
Or perhaps thy Nurses were  
Th' uncouth thickness of the woods,  
Or the Mountaines horrible?   

Well may Dulcinea, she  
That same dam'zell plump and sound,  
brag that she hath conquered a  
tiger and a saluage Beast.   

For which she shall famous be,  
From Henares to Xarama,  
Tagus, Mansanares, and  
Pisuerga, and Arlanza too.   

Oh that I might change with her,  
I would give my Coat to boot;  
And the gaudy'st that I haue,  
All bedawb'd with golden frindge.   

Oh that I were in thy arms,  
If not so, but near thy bed,  
That I might but scratch thy head  
And the Dand-roffe rid from thee.   

Much I ask, but not deserve  
favours so remarkable:  
Let me then but touch thy foot  
Fit for my humility.   

Oh what night-caps I would give,  
And what silver socks to thee,  
What Damaska breeches eke,  
And what cloaks of Holland too?   

Likewise of the finest pearls  
Each as big as any gull,  
Which, if that there were but one,  
Might be called, The one alone.   

Do not from thy Tarpey view  
This same fire that doth me scorch  
Manchegan Nero of the world,  
Nor kindle't with thy cruelty.   

Young I am, a tender chick,  
Not yet my age is past fifteen,  
fourteen am I, three moneths more  
I swear to thee in Conscience.   

I do not limpe, I am not lame,  
Nothing about me maimed;  
And my looks like lilies are  
That do drag vpon the ground.   

And although my mouth be wide,  
Yet my nose is something flat,  
And my teeth are Topaces:  
Beauty lifts me to the clouds.   

My voice you see, if that you hark,  
To the sweetest equal is,  
And my disposition too,  
less then reasonable is.   

These and other graces more,  
Of thy quiver are the spoils,  
Of this house I dam'zell am,  
And Altisidora called.   
Here the sore wounded Altisidora ended her song, and the fright of the required Don Quixote began, who fetching a deep sigh, said within himself, That I must be so unhappy an errand, that no damosel that sees me, but is enamoured on me? that, Dulcinea deal Toboso should be so unfortunate, that they will not let her alone enjoy my incomparable firmness? Queens, What mean you toward her? Empresses, why do you persecute her? Damozels of fourteen or fifteen yeeres, why do you bait her? leave, leave the poor creature, let her triumph, ioy, and rejoice, with the lot that love gave her, in yielding her my heart, and delivering her my soul. Look, ye enamoured troop, for Dulcinea onely am I of paste and sugar-pellets, and for all else of Flint; for her I am hony, for you bitter Aloes: Dulcinea only is to me, faire, discreet, honest, gallant, well-born; and others, foul, foolish, light, and worse-borne. Nature threw me into the world to bee onely hers, and no-bodies else: let Altisidora weep or sing, 
His adventure in the first part with the Carrier& Moritornes in the vent.  let the Lady despair for whom I was banged in the Castle of the Enchanted Moore; for sod or roasted, I am Dulcinea's, clean, well-nurtured and honest, in spite of all the powerful witch-crafts of the earth: and with this he clapped to the window suddenly, and all angry and despiteous, as if some disgrace had befallen him, he got him to bed: where for the present we will leave him, for the Grand Sancho Pansa calls vpon us, who means to begin his famous government.   

CHAP. XLV.  
How the Grand Sancho Pansa took possession of his island, and the manner of his beginning to govern.  
O perpetual discoverer of the Antipodes, Torch to the world, Eye of heaven, sweet stirrer of wine-cooling vessels, one while Titan, another Phoebus, sometimes an Archer, other-whiles a Physician, Father of poesy, glister of music, thou that always risest, and( though it seems so) yet never settest. To thee I speak, O sun, by which man begets man: to thee I speak, help me, and lighten my obscure wit, that I may punctually run thorough the narration of the Grand Sancho Pansa's government; for without thee I am dull, vnmolded, and confused. I proceed then thus:  
Sancho with all his troope came to a town, which had in it about a thousand Inhabitants, which was one of the best the Duke had, they  told him the island was called Barataria, either because the town was called Baratario, or else because he had obtained his government so cheap. When he came to the Town-gates( for it was walled) the Officers came out to welcome him, the bells rung, and all the Inhabitants made show of a general gladness, and they carried him in great pomp to the high Church, to give God thankes: and strait after some ridiculous ceremonies, they delivered him the keys, and admitted him for perpetual governor of the island Barataria. His apparel, his beard, his fatness, and the shortness of this new governor, made all the people admire, that knew not the Iigge of the matter, and those also that knew it, which were many.  
Finally, when he came out of the Church, they carried him to the Iudgement seat, and seated him in it, and the Dukes Steward  told him, It is an old custom, Sir governor, in this island, that he that comes to take possession of this famous island, must answer to a question that shall be asked him, that must be somewhat hard and intricate, by whose answer the town ghesseth and taketh the pulse of their new Gouernours capacity, and accordingly, is either glad, or sorry at his coming.  
Whilst the Steward said this to Sancho, he was looking vpon certain great Letters that were written vpon the wall ouer-against his seat, and because he himself could not read, he asked what painting that was in the wall? It was answered him: Sir, the day is set down there in which your Honor took possession of this island, and the Epitaph says thus, This day, such a day of the month and year, signor Don Sancho Pansa took possession of this island, long may he enjoy it. And whom call they Don Sancho Pansa, said Sancho? Your Honor( quoth the Steward:) for no other Pansa hath come into this island, but he that is seated in that seat. Well, mark you, Brother, quoth Sancho, there belongs no Don to me, neither ever was there any in all my lineage, I am plain Sancho, my Father was called Sancho, my Grandfather and all were Pansa's, without any additions of Dons or Donnas, and I beleeue this island is as full of Dons, as stones: but 'tis enough, God knows my meaning, and perhaps, if my government last but four daies to an end, Ile weed out these Dons, that with their multiplicity do weary and trouble like Mosquitos. On with your question, Master Steward, Ile answer you as well as I can, let the town be sorry or not sorry.  
At this instant two men came into the iudgement place; the one clad like a husbandman, and the other like a tailor, having shears in his hand; the tailor said, Sir governor, I and this Husbandman are come before you for this cause: This honest man came yesterday to my shop, and I, saving your reverence, am a tailor, and a free-man, God be thanked, and showing me a piece of cloth, asked me; Sir, will there bee enough here to make me a Capouche? I measuring the cloth, answered him, Yes: he thought as I did, and I thought true, that I would steal some of his cloth, being maliciously bent, and out of the ill opinion he had of Taylors: and he replied again, that I should tell if there were enough to make two: I smelled his drift, and  told him, I; and my Gallant in his first knavish intention, went adding more Capouches, and I answered with more yes-ses, till we came to five, and even now he came for them, I give them him, but he will not pay me for the making, rather he demands that I pay him, or return him his cloth. Is it true this( quoth Sancho)? Yes, said the fellow; but pray, Sir, let him show his five Capouches that he hath made me. With a very good will,( quoth the tailor:) and incontinently taking his hand from under his cloak, he shewed five Capouches in it, vpon each finger one, and said; Behold here the five Capouches that this man would haue me make, and in my soul and conscience I haue not a jot of cloth left, as any workman shall judge.  
All the by-standers laughed at the number of the Capouches, and the strange contention. Sancho, after a little consideration, said; Me thinks, in this svit there need no delays, but a quick and plain iudgement; My sentence therefore is, that the tailor lose his labour, and the Husbandman his cloth, and that the Capouches be carried to the poor in the prison, without any more ado.  
If the sentence that passed of the Grazier bred admiration in the by-standers, this moved them to laughter; but what the governor commanded, was fulfilled: before whom, two ancient men were now presented; the one had a hollow Cane, in stead of a staff, the other had none: he without the staff, said, Sir, I lent this honest man long since, ten Crownes in good Gold, to do him a kindness: I let him alone a good while, without asking for them, because I would not put him to more trouble to repay me, then he had to borrow them of me; but because I saw him careless of the payment, I haue asked him more then once or twice for my money, which he not onely doth not return me, but denies, and says, he never received the ten Crownes I lent him, or that if I did lend them him, he hath paid me▪ I haue no witnesses, neither of the lending, or of the payment: I pray, Sir, will you take his Oath? and if he will swear that he hath paid me, I give him an acquittance from henceforth, and before God. What say you to this, honest old man with the staff( quoth Sancho?) Sir, I confess that he lent them me, and 
The custom in spain be th●t he who is to 〈…〉, makes 〈…〉 over the rod of Iustice.  hold down your rod, and since he will haue me swear, I will, that I haue paid him really and truly. The governor held out his rod, and in the mean time, he with the staff, gave it to the other old man to hold, whilst he was to swear, as if it had hindered him: so with his hand he made a cross over the rod of Iustice, saying, Twas true that he had lent him the ten crownes that he demanded; but that he had truly restored them to him again, and that his forgetting of it, made him continually demand them. Which when the Grand governor saw, he asked the Creditor what he could say against his adversary? He said, that surely his debtor said true, for he held him to be an honest man, and a good Christian, and that it might be he had forgotten, how or when he paid him, and that from henceforward he would never demand him ought. The debtor took his staff again, and making an obeisance, was going out of the iudgement place: Which when Sancho saw, and that he was going without any more ado, and seeing likewise the others patience, he nodded with his head on his breast, and clapped the Index of his right hand, vpon his nose& eyebrows, and a pretty while was as it were considering, and by and by lifted up his head, and commanded that the old man with the staff should be brought to him: and Sancho seeing him, said, Honest man, give me that staff; for I haue use for it. With a very good will, quoth the old man; here tis, Sir, and gave it him. Sancho took it, and giuing it to the other old man, said, go on Gods name, now you are paid. I Sir, said the old man? why, can this Cane be worth ten crownes? Yes, said the governor, or else I am the veriest block-head in the world: and now you shall see whether I haue a brain or no to govern a whole kingdom: so he commanded that before them all the Cane should be broken, which was done, and in the midst of it, they found the ten crownes.  
All of them admired at this, and held their governor for a second Salomon. They asked him, how he gathered that the ten crownes was in the Cane? He answered, That because he saw the old man that was to swear, give his adversary the staff whilst he took his oath, and that he swore he had given him the money truly and really; and that when he had ended his oath, he demanded his staff of him again, it came into his imagination, that within it the money was hidden: whereby it may be collected, that although many Gouernours are stark Asses, yet sometimes it pleaseth God to direct them in their judgements; for besides, he had heard the Vicar of his parish tell of such an accident as this, and that he had a special memory, for if it were not for forgetting all he desired to remember, there were not such a memory in the whole island.  
At last one of the old men ashamed, and the other paid his money, they departed, and those that were present, were astonished; and he that wrote down Sancho's words, deeds, and behaviour, could not resolve, whether he should set him down, A fool or a wise-man.  
As soon as this suit was ended, there came a woman into the place of iudgement, laying hold strongly on a man clad to see to, like a rich Grazier, who came crying aloud, and saying, Iustice, Lord governor, Iustice, and if I haue it not on earth, I will seek it in heaven. Sweet governor, this wicked man met me on the high way, and hath abused my body, as if it had been an vnwashed rag; and, unhappy that I am, he hath gotten that, that I haue kept these three and twenty yeeres, defending it from Moores and Christians, from home-bred ones and sttangers; I haue been as hard as a Corke-tree, and kept myself as entire as the Salamander in the fire, or as the wool amongst the Briars, and this man must come now with a washt hand and handle me. This is to be tried yet( quoth Sancho) whether this gallants hands be washed or no; and turning to the fellow, he said, What answer you to yonder womans complaint? who all in a fright answered: Sir( quoth he) I am a poor Grazier, and deal in swine, and this morning I went( with pardon be it spoken) from this town to sell four hogs, and the tallage and other fees cost me little less then they were worth: as I went homeward, by the way I met with this good Matron,& the devill the Author of all mischief, yoked us together: I gave her sufficient pay, but she not satisfied, laid hold on me, and would not let me go till shee had brought me hither: she says that I forced her, and I swear she lies, and this is true every jot of it. Then the governor asked him, if he had any money about him? who answered him, Yes; that he had in a lethern purse in his bosom, some twenty Crownes in silver. He commanded him to take it out,& to deliver it just as it was to the plaintiff; which he did trembling: the woman received it, and making a thousand Moorish ducks to the company,& praying to God for the governors life and health, that was so charitable to poor Orphans& Maidens, she went out from the place of Iudgement, laying fast hold with both her hands on the purse, though first she looked whether twere silver within or no. She was scarce gone, when Sancho said to the Grazier, that had tears standing in his eyes,& his heart going after his purse; Honest fellow, run after yonder woman, and take her purse from her whether she will or no, and bring it me hither. He spoken not to a fool or a deaf man, for strait he partend like lightning, and went to perform what was commanded him. All that were present were in suspense,& expectation of the end of that suite, and a little after, both man and woman returned together, more fastened and clung together then formerly, she with her coat up, and her purse in her lap, and he striving to get it from her, which was not possible, she did so resist, crying out and saying, Iustice of God& the world: look you, Sir governor, mark the little shane or fear of this desperate man, that in the midst of a congregation, and in the midst of a street, would take away my purse that you commanded him to give me.  
And hath he got it, said the governor? Got it( said she?) I had rather lose my life then the purse. I were a pretty child i'faith then; you must set other manner of colts vpon me then this poor nasty sneake-vp: Pincers, hammers, beetles, scraping tools, shall not get it out of my claws, out of my lions paws; they shall rather get one half of my soul out of my flesh. Shee says right( quoth the fellow) I yield to her, I haue no more power, I confess my force is not sufficient to take it away.  
Then said the governor to the woman; You, honesty, Virago, give me that purse hither: which shee did: and the governor restored it again to the man,& said to the forcible woman, but not forced, Do you hear, sister? if you had shewed but half your valor& breath to defend your body, that you did for your purse, Hercules his force could not haue forced you: get you gon with a Pox; come not into this island, nor in six Leagues round about it, on pain of two hundreth lashes: get you gone strait( I say) make-bate, shameless coozener: the woman was affrighted, and away she went like a sheepe-biter, and melancholy, and the governor said to the man, Honest fellow, get you home on Gods name with your money, and henceforward if you mean not to lose it, pray haue no mind to yoke with any body. The man as clownishly as he could, thanked him, and went his way: the by-standers admired afresh at the iudgement, and sentences of their new governor. All which noted by his Chroniclist, was strait written to the Duke, that with much desire expected it. And leave we honest Sancho here: for his Master hastens us now, that was all in a hurly burly with Altisidora's music.   

CHAP. XLVI.  
Of the fearful Low-Bell-Cally horror, that Don Quixote received in process of his love, by the enamoured Altisidora.  
WEe left the Grand Don Quixote enveloped in the imaginations, which the music of the enamoured damosel Altisidora had caused in him: to bed he went with them, and as if they had been pleas; they gave him no rest or quiet, and to these were added those of his torn Stockings: but as time is swift, and no stumbling block will stay him, he went on horseback on the houres, and the morning came on speedily. Which when Don Quixote saw, he left his soft bed, and nothing lazy, put on his Chamoized apparel and his Bootes, to hid the hole of his Stockings; he cast his Scarlet Mantle vpon him, and put on his head his hunters Cap of green velvet, laced with silver Lace, his Belt he hung at his shoulder, with his trusty cutting Blade, he laid hold on a Rosary which he used still to carry with him; and with goodly representation and gate he went towards an out-roome, where the Duke and duchess were ready dressed, and as it were expecting him: and as he was to pass rhorow a Gallery, Altisidora and the other damosel her friend, were greedily expecting him: And as soon as Altisidora saw him, shee feigned a swooning; and her friend got her into her lap, and in all hast went to vnlace her.  
Don Quixote that saw it, coming near them, said, Now I know from whence these fits proceed.  
I know not from whence( said her friend) for Altisidora is the healthiest damosel in all this house, and I never perceived so much as a sigh from her, since I haue known her: a mischief on all Knights errand in the world, if all be so ungrateful: pray signor Don Quixote, get you gone; for as long as you are here, this poor Wench will not come to herself.  
To which said Don Quixote, Get me, Mistris, a Lute into my Chamber soon at night, and Ile comfort this afflicted damosel as well as I can: for in amorous beginnings plain dealing is the most approved remedy; so he went away, because they that passed by, should not note or observe him: he was no sooner gone, when the disinayed Altisidora coming to herself, said to her companion, By all means let him haue the Lute: for undoubtedly Don Quixote will give us music, and being his, it cannot bee bad.  
strait they went to let the duchess know what passed, and of the Lute that Don Quixote required: and she jocund above measure, plotted with the Duke and her Damozels, to play a trick with him that should be more pleasant then hurtful; and so with much longing they expected till it should be night, which came on speedily as the day had done, which the Dukes passed in savoury discourse with Don Quixote: and that day the duchess indeed dispatched a page. of hers, that in the wood acted the enchanted Dulcinea's part, to Teresa Pansa, with her Husband Sancho's Letter, and with the bundle of stuff that he had left to be sent her, charging him to bring her a true Relation of all that he passed with her.  
This done, and it growing towards eleven of the clock at night, Don Quixote found a Vyoll in his Chamber: he tuned it, opened the window, and heard people walk in the Garden, and having run over the frets of the viol, and ordering it as well as he could, he spit and cleared his breast, and strait with a voice somewhat hoarceish, though tunable, he sung the ensuing Romant, which the same day he had composed.  


These verses& the former of Altisidora, are made to bee scuruy on purpose by the Author, fitting the occasions and the subiects, so he observes neither verse nor rhyme.  The powerful force of love  
Oft doth vnhindge the soul,  
Taking for his Instrument  
ever careless idleness.   

To use to sow and work,  
And to be ever occupied,  
Is the onely Antidote  
'gainst the poison of Loues griefs.   

damsels that live retired,  
With desire of marriage,  
Honesty their portion is,  
And the Trumpet of their praise.   

They that Knights errand be,  
They that in Court do line  
Court the loser sort of maides,  
And the honest make their wives.   

Some Loues are of the East,  
Loues that are held with Oastesses,  
That strait set in the Wests  
End when the parting is.   

The love that new come is,  
Comes to day, to morrow parts,  
never leaves the Images,  
In the souls imprinted well.   

Picture vpon picture drawn,  
shows not well, nay leaves no draft;  
Where a former beauty is,  
Second needs must lose the trick.   

Painted, Dulcinea, I,  
deal Toboso, so well haue  
In smooth Tablet of my soul,  
That ther's nought can blot her out.   

constancy in Louers is  
The part most to be esteemed;  
For which love doth miracles,  
And doth raise us up aloft.   
Here Don Quixote ended his Song, which was harkened to by the Duke, duchess, Altisidora, and almost all the folk of the Castle; when suddenly from the top of an open Turret, there fell heavily down vpon Don Quixotes window, by the letting down of a Cord, a great sack of Cats with little Lowbels tied at their tails, the noise of which was so great, and the mewing of the Cats, that although the Dukes were the inventors of the Iest, yet they themselves were even affrighted,& Don Quixote was timorous and amazed: and such was his ill lucke, that two or three of the Cats got in at the window of his cabin, and leaping up and down on every side, it seemed to him that there were a Region of divels in his Chamber: they put out the Candles that were burning there, and now they sought how to get out: the rising and falling of the cord, at which the Low-bels were hanged, ceased not; and the most of the people in the Castle, that knew not the certainty of the business, were astonished.  
Don Quixote got him on his legs, and laying hold on his sword, began to thrust and slash at the window, crying out aloud: avant, ye wicked Enchanters, avant, ye haggish scum; for I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, against whom your wioked plots cannot prevail, or haue any power: and turning to the Cats that were in his Chamber, he struck many blows at them; they got to the Iron window, and there got out: but one of them that saw himself so baited with Don Quixotes slashes, leaped vpon his face, and with his nails and teeth, laid hold on his nose with the paw. Don Quixote roared out as loud as he could. Which when the Duke and duchess heard, and considering what it might bee, they ran yp in all hast to his Chamber, and opening it with a Master Key, they found the poor Knight striving with all his might, to vnroote the Cat from his face: they called for lights, and saw the unequal combat: The Duke came to part the fray, and Don Quixote cried aloud, Let him alone, leave me hand to hand with this divell, this Witch, this Enchanter: for Ile make him know the difference betwixt me and him; and who Don Quixote de la Mancha is: but the Cat careless of these threats, purred and held fast.  
But at length the Duke unloosed him, and flung him out of the window. Don Quixotes face was sifted over, and his nose was not very sound; yet he was very angry, that they would not let him finish the battle, that was so long drawn out betwixt him, and that cursed Enchanter. They made some oil of Aparice to be brought, and Altisidora herself with her faire hands bound up the wounds; and laying to the clothes, she  told him in his ear, All these mis-haps befall thee, flinty Knight, for the sin of thy hard-hearted obstinacy: and God grant that Sancho thy Squire may forget to whip himself, that thy beloved Dulcinea may still be enchanted, neither mayst thou enjoy her, or come to her bed, at least whilst I live, that adore thee.  
To all this Don Quixote answered not a word; but fetched a deep sigh, and strait laid him down on his bed, thanking the Dukes for their courtesy; not for that he was afraid of that Cattish-Low-Belly Enchanting crew: but that he was persuaded of their good wils to come to retire him.  
The Dukes left him to his rest, and went away sorrowful for the ill success of the iest; for they thought that adventure would not haue lighted so heavily on Don Quixote, which cost him five dayes retirement and keeping his bed, where another adventure befell him more pleasing then the former, which the Historian will not recount yet, because of repairing to Sancho Pansa, that was very careful and conceited in his government.   

CHAP. XLVII.  
How Sancho demeaned himself in his government.  
THe Story tells us, that Sancho from the Iudgement Seat was carried to a sumptuous Palace, where, in a great and spacious Hall was spread a royal and plentiful Table: the winde-Musick played, and four Pages came in to minister water to him, which he used with much state: the winde-Instruments ceased, and Sancho sate him down at the vpper end of the Table, because there was no other seat, nor no other Napkin laid but that.  
At his elbow there stood a certain parsonage, that after shewed to be a Physician, with a Whale-bone rod in his hand: then they took off a rich white towel, which covered many sorts of fruits, and a great variety of several dishes of meats: One that served to be a kind of Student, said grace; and a Pag●●ut a laced Bib under Sancho's chin: and another that play●… the carvers part, set a dish of fruit before him: but he had no 〈…〉 ner eaten a bit, when he with the rod touching the dish, i 〈…〉 very suddenly taken from before him: but the carver s 〈…〉 other dish of meate before him. Sancho would haue tasted 〈…〉 but before he could touch it, he with the rod was at it, ●nd a page. set it away with as much celerity as the fruit: which when Sancho saw, he began to be in suspense, and beholding all that were by, asked if that meat were to be eaten like 
Onely to be touched, but not swallowed.  your childrens coral.  
To which, he with the Rod made answer, It must bee eaten, Sir governor( quoth he) according to the use& custom of Gouernours in other islands. I, Sir, am a Physician, and am stipended in this island to bee so to the Gouernours of it: and I am much more careful of their health, then of mine own; studying night& day, and weighing the complexion of the governor, that I may hit the better vpon the curing him, whensoever he falls sick: and the principal thing I do; is, to be present with him at meats, and to let him eat what I think fit for him, and to take away, what I imagine may do him hurt, or bee nought for his stomach: and therefore I now commanded the dish of Fruit to be taken away, because it is too moist; and the other dish, because it was too hote, and had much spice, that provoked thirst; and he that drinks much, kills and consumes his humidum radicale, wherein life consists. So that( quoth Sancho) you dish of Partridges there roasted, and in my opinion well seasoned, will do me no hurt at all.  
To which( said the Physician) You shall not eat of them, Sir, as long as I live.  
Why so( quoth Sancho?) the Physician answered, Because hippocrates our Master, north-star and light of physic, says in an aphorism of his: Omnis saturatio mala, Perdicis autem pessima: the meaning is: All surfet is ill, but that of a Partridge is worst of all.  
If it be so( quoth Sancho) pray see, Master Doctor, which of all these dishes will be most wholesome for me, and do me least hurt, and let me eat of that, without banging of it with your Rod: for in good sadness, I tell you plain, I am ready to die with hunger; and to deny me my victuals, in spite of Master Doctor, let him say what he will, is rather to take away my life, then to increase it.  
You say true, Sir governor( quoth the Physician) and therfore my opinion is, that you touch not those boiled Conies, nor that veal, for it is waterish meate: if it were roasted or powdered? but twere much about one. Then( quoth Sancho) that great dish that stands fuming there before me, me thinks 'tis an 
A pot of all kind of 〈…〉 sod together.  Olla Podrida, and by reason of the diversities of things it hath in it, I cannot but meet with something that will do me good. Absit, quoth the Physician, far be such an ill thought from us, quoth the Physician: there is nothing in the world that worse nourisheth then an Olla Podrida, fit only for your Prebends and Rectors of colleges, or for your Country marriages: Let your Gouernours Tables be without them, and let them be furnished with all prime dainties and quaintnesse: And the reason is, because always, and wheresoever, and by whomsoever, your simplo medicines are in more request then your compounds; because in simples there can be no error, in compounds there are many, altering the quantity of things of which they are composed, but that that I know is fit for the governor to eat at present, to preserve his health, and corroborated it, is, some hundred of little hollow Wafers, and some pretty slice or two of Quince Mermelad, that may settle his stomach, and help his digestion.  
When Sancho heard this, he learned himself to the back of his chair, and by fits now and then looked at the Physician, and with a grave voice, asked him his name, and where he had studied.  
To which he answered, My name, Sir governor, is Doctor Pedro Rezio de Agnero, I was born in a town called Tirte a fuera, which is between Caraguel and Almodonar deal Campo, vpon the right hand, and I took my degree of Doctor in the university of Osuna. To which( quoth Sancho) all enflamed with choler; Well, Master Doctor Pedro Rezio of Agnero, born at Tirte a fuera, a town on the right hand as we go from Caraguel to Almodonar deal Campo, Graduated in Osuna, get you straight out of my sight, or I vow by the sun, Ile get me a cudgel, and with bangs begin with you, and so forward, till I leave not a Physician in all the island, at least such as I know to bee ignorant; for your wise, prudent,& discreet Physicians, I will hug them, and honor them as divine persons. I say again, Pedro Rezio, get you gone, or else Ile take the chair I sit vpon, and dash it vpon your head, and let me be called in question for it, when I give up my Office; for I can discharge myself, by saying that I did God service to kill such a Physician, the commonwealths hang-man: and let me eat, or else take your government again; for an Office that will not afford a man his victuals, is not worth two beans.  
The Doctor was in an uproar to see the governor so choleric,& would haue gone out of the Hall, but that at that instant a posting-horne sounded in the street, and the carver peeping out of the window, turned back, saying; A Post is come from my Lord the Duke, that brings some important dispatch. The Post came strait in, sweeting and amazed, and drawing a Packet out of his bosom, he delivered it to the governor. Sancho gave it to the Steward, and bade him red the superscription, which was this, To Don Sancho Pansa, governor of the island Barataria, to his own hands, or to his Secretary. Which when Sancho heard, he said, Who is here my Secretary? and one that was by, answered, I, Sir: for I can writ and read, for I am a Biscayner. With that addition, quoth Sancho, you may well be Secretary to the Emperour himself; open your Packet, and let's here the Contents.  
The new-borne Secretary did so,& having viewed the Contents, said, that it was a business to be imparted in private. Sancho commanded those in the Presence to avoid, and onely the Steward and the carver to remain, and the rest, with the Physician went out, and presently the Secretary red the Letter following,  
I am given to understand, signor Don Sancho Pansa, that certain enemies of mine, and of that island, mean one of these nights to give it a furious assault: twere fit you caused watch& ward to be kept, that they take you not unprovided: I know also by faithful spies, that four persons haue entred there the island disguised to kill you; for they stand much in awe of your abilities: haue a care to see who comes to speak to you, and eat of nothing that shall be presented unto you; I will be careful to sand you aid, if you be in necessity, and in the rest I hope you will proceed, as is expected from your understanding.  
From hence, the 4. of August, at four of the clock in the morning. Your friend, The Duke.  
Sancho was astonished, and the standards by seemed to be no otherwise; and turning to the Steward, he said, Ile tell you what is fit to be done, and that presently; clap me Doctor Rezio into dungeon; for if any body kill me, it is he, and with so vile and trivial a death as hunger: Me thinks too, said the carver, you should do well to eat nothing of all this meat vpon the Table; for this dinner was presented by Nunnes, and it is an old saying, The nearer the Church, the farther from God. I grant ye so( quoth Sancho) and therefore for the present give me only a piece of bread, and some four pound of grapes; for in them there can be no poison, and indeed I cannot live without eating: for if we must provide ourselves for these wars that threaten us, twere fit to be well victualled; for the guts uphold the heart, and not the heart the guts. And you, Secretary, answer my Lord the Duke, tell him that his commands shall be fulfilled most punctually: and commend me to the duchess, and say that I request her, that she forget not to sand my letter by a special messenger, and likewise the farthel to my wife Teresa Pansa, and in it shee shall do me a particular favour, and I will bee careful to serve her to the uttermost of my power: And by the way you may clap in a commendation to my Master, signor Don Quixote de la Mancha, that he may see I am thankful for his bread; and you like a good Secretary, and an honest Biscayner, may in the rest add what you will, or shall think fitting. And take away here, and yet leave me something to eat, and let these Spies, these Murderers and Enchanters come vpon me and my iceland, Ile deal with them well enough.  
And now a page. came in, saying, here's a Husbandman, a suitor that would speak with your Honor in a business of importance( as he says.) Tis a strange thing of these suitors( quoth Sancho) Is it possible they should be so foolish as not to perceive that these be not times for them to negotiate in? belike, we that govern, wee that are Iudges, are not men of flesh and blood: and is it not fit that we should ease ourselves, when necessity requires, except they think wee should be made of marble? Verily, and in my Conscience if my government last,( as I haue a glimmering it will not) Ile lay one of these fellowes up for it. Well, bid this honest fellow come in for this once; but see first that he be none of the Spies, or any of my murderers: No, Sir( quoth the page.) for he is a very dull soul to see to, either I know little, or he hath no more harm then a piece of good bread. There's no fearing him( said the Steward) for wee all are here.  
carver( quoth Sancho) were it not possible, now that Doctor Rezio is not here, that I might eat a bit of some substantial meat, though 'twere but a crust and an Onion? To night at Supper( quoth the carver) your dinner shall bee amended, and your Honor shall be satisfied. God grant it( quoth Sancho) and now the Husbandman came in, one of a very goodly presence, and that you might see a thousand miles off, was a good hurtlesse soul. The first thing that he said, was, Which is my Lord the governor? Who should it be( quoth the Secretary) but he that sits there in the chair? I humble myself to his Presence then( quoth the Husbandman) and kneeling on his knees, desired his hand to kiss. Sancho denied it, and commanded him to rise, and to say what he would haue. The Husbandman did so, and said;  
I, Sir, am a Husbandman, born in Miguel Turra, a town some two leagues from Cindarcal. Here's another Tirte a fuera, quoth Sancho: Say on brother, for let me tell you, I know the place very well, and it is not far from my town. The business, Sir, is this, quoth the Husbandman; I by Gods blessing,& the full consent of the catholic roman Church, am married, haue two sons that be Students; the youngest studies to be Bachelor, and the eldest to be Master. I am a widower, for my wife died, or to say trulier, a wicked Physician killed her, that purged her when she was great with child: and if it had pleased God that she had been delivered, and it had been a son, I would haue set him to study to haue been Doctor, that he might not haue envied his brothers, the Bachelor and Master. So that( quoth Sancho) if your wife had not been dead, or if they had not killed her, you had not now been a widower? No, Sir, by no means( quoth the Husbandman.) We are much the nearer( quoth Sancho:) forward, brother, tis time to sleep, haue you any more to say? I say( quoth the Husbandman) that my son that was to be the Bachelor, fell in love in the same town with a Maiden, called Clara Perlerina, daughter to Andrew Perlerina a rich Farmer:& this name of Perlerina's comes not to them by any off-spring or discent, but that all of this race and name are Palsigiste, and to better the name, they were called Perlerina's; and indeed, the maid is as faire as an oriental pearl: and looking vpon her right side, she is like a flower in the field, but on her left, otherwise; for there shee commandments an eye, that flew out of her head with the small pocks: and though shee haue many holes left still in her face, many say that love her well, that those are not holes, but graues where her Louers souls are butted.  
Shee is so cleanly, that because shee will not bewray her face, shee wears her nose( as you would say) tucked up, as if it fled from her mouth, and for all that, it becomes her passing well; for shee hath a wide mouth: and were it not that she wanted ten or twelve teeth and her grinders, shee might pass, and set a mark for the well-fauouredst to come to. For her lips I say nothing, for they are so thin and delicate, that if they did use to reel lips, they might make a skeine of hers: but because they are of a more different colour then we see ordinarily in lips, they are miraculous; for they are Iaspered with blue and green, and Berengena-coloured, and under correction, Sir governor, since I paint out the parts of her that I mean to make my daughter so exactly, it is a sign I love her, and that I do not dislike her.  
Paint what you will( quoth Sancho) for I recreate myself with the painting: and if I had dined, there were no better dish of fruit to me then your picture.  
I humbly thank you, sir, for that( quoth the Husbandman:) but time will come that I may be thankful, if I be not now, and if I should paint out to you her gentleness, and the height of her body, 'twould admire you: but that cannot be, for she is crooked, her knees and her mouth meet, and for all that 'tis well seen, that if shee could stand upright, shee would touch the roof with her head, and long ere this, shee would haue given her hand to my son to be his spouse, but that shee cannot stretch it out, tis so knotted and crumpled up; for all that her goodness and good shape appears in her long and guttured nailes.  
Tis very well( quoth Sancho) and make account, Brother, that now you haue painted her from head to foot. What would you now? come to the matter without fetches, or lanes, or digressions, or additions. I would desire you( quoth the Husbandman) to give me a Letter of favour to my brother by marriage, her father; to desire him to consent that this marriage may go forward, since our fortunes be equal and our births; for to say true, Sir governor, my son is possessed with the devill, and there's not a day passeth, but the wicked spirits torment him, and once falling in the fire, hath made his face as wrinkled as a piece of parchment, and his eyes are somewhat bleered and running, and he is as soft conditioned as an angel; for if it were not for buffeting of himself now and then, he were a very Saint.  
Will you any thing else, honest friend, quoth Sancho? One thing more( quoth he) but that I dare not tell it; but let it out, it shall not rot in my breast, speed how it will. I desire, Sir, that you would give me three hundred, or six hundred Dukats to help my Bachelors portion, I mean to help him to furnish his house, for they will live by themselves, without being subject to the impertinencies of fathers in laws.  
Will you haue any thing else( quoth Sancho?) and be not abashed or ashamed to tell it. No truly( quoth the Husbandman:) and he had scarce said this, when the governor rising up, laid hold on the chair that he sate on, saying; I vow to you, goodman splay-foot, vnmannerly clown, if you go not straight& hid yourself out of my presence, Ile break your head with this chair here, ye whoor-son Rascall, the devils painter: comest thou at this time of day to ask me six hundred Ducats? and where haue I them, stinkard? and if I had them, why should I give them thee, sottish knave? What a pox care I for Miguel Turra, or all the lineage of the Perlerinas? Get thee out of my sight, or I swear by my Lord the Dukes life, that Ile do as I haue said, Thou art not of Miguel Turra, but some crafty knave, sent from hell to tempt me: Tell me, desperate man! 'tis not yet a day and a half since I came to the government: how wouldst thou haue me haue six hundreth Ducats? The carver made signs to the Husbandman, to get him out of the Hall; who did so like a sheepe-byter, and to see to very fearful, lest the governor should execute his choler on him: for the cunning knave very well knew what belonged to his part: but leave we Sancho to his choler, and peace be in the choir, and return we to Don Quixote; for we left his face bound up, and dressed for his Cattish wounds, of which he was not sound in eight daies: in one of which this befell him, that Cid Hamete promiseth to recount with all the punctualitie,& truth that he usually doth in the most trivial matters of this History.   

CHAP. XLVIII.  
What happened to Don Quixote with Donna Rodriguez, the Duchesses Waiting-Woman; with other successses, worthy to bee written, and had in eternal remembrance.  
THe ill-wounded Don Quixote was exceeding musty and melancholy, with his face bound up, and scared not by the hand of God, but by the nails of a Cat( misfortunes annexed to Knight Errantry) six dayes past ere he came abroad: in one of which, in a night, when he was awake and watching, thinking vpon his mis-haps, and his being persecuted by Altisidora, he perceived that somebody opened his Chamber door with a Key; and strait he imagined that the enamoured damosel came to set vpon his honesty, and to put him to the hazard of foregoing his loyalty due to his Mistris Dulcinea deal Toboso. No said he, believing in his imagination,& this so loud that he might easily bee heard) no beauty in the world shall make me leave her that is graved and stamped in the midst of my heart, and in my innermost entrails: be thou, Mistris mine, either transformed into an Onion-like husband-woman, or into a nymph of the Golden Tagus, weaving webs made of silk and gold twist: be thou in Merlins power, or in Montesino's his, where ere they will haue thee: for wheresoever thou art, thou art mine; and wheresoever I am, I will be thine His speech ended, and the door opened both together.  
up he stood vpon the bed, wrapped from head to foot in a quilt of yellow satin, a woollen cap vpon his head, his face and mustachoes bound up: his face for his scratches; his mustachoes, because they should not dismay or fall down: in which posture, he looked like the strangest apparition, that can bee imagined.  
He nailed his very eyes vpon the door: and whereas he thought to haue seen the vanquished and pitiful Altisidora enter, he saw that it was a most reverend Matron, with a long white gathered stolen, so long that it did cover and bemantle her from head to foot: betwixt her left hand fingers she had half a Candle lighted, and with her right hand shee shadowed herself, to keep the light from her eyes, which were hide with a great pair of spectacles: she came treading softly, and moving her feet gently.  
Don Quixote from his Watch-towre beholded her: and when he saw her furniture, and noted her silence, he thought it had been some hag or Magician, which came in that shape to do him some shrewd turn; and he began apace to bless himself.  
The Vision came somewhat nearer: but being in the midst of the Chamber, she lifted up her eyes, and saw with what hast Don Quixote was crossing himself: and if he were afraid to see such a shape, she was no less affrighted with his: for seeing him so lank, and yellow in the quilt, and with the bends that dis-figured him, she cried out, saying, Iesus, What's this? and with the sudden fright, the Candle dropped out of her hand, and being in the dark, she turned her back to be gone; but for fear stumbled vpon her Coats, and had a sound fall.  
Don Quixote timorous, began to say, I conjure thee, Apparition! Or whatso'ere thou art, to tell me who thou art, and what thou wilt haue with me: If thou be'st a soul in Purgatory, tell me, and I will do what I am able for thee: for I am a catholic Christian, and love to do good to all the world: for, for this cause I took vpon me the order of Knight errand, which I profess( whose practise extends even to do good to the souls in purgatory.) The broken Matron that heard herself thus conjured, by her fear guessed at Don Quixote, and with a low and pitiful voice she answered him, signor Don Quixote,( if you be he I mean) I am no Apparition, nor Vision, nor soul of Purgatory, as you haue thought: but Donna Rodriguez, my Lady the Duchesses honoured Matron, that come to you with a case of necessity of those that you usually give redress to.  
Tell me, Donna Rodriguez, quoth Don Quixote, come you happily about some piece of brokage? For let me tell you, if you do, ther's no good to bee done with me for any body; thankes to the peerless beauty of my Mistris Dulcinea deal Toboso. So that let me tell you, Donna Rodriguez, setting aside all amorous messages, you may go light your Candle again, and return, and impart what you will command me, and any thing you please, excepting I say, all kind of inciting niceties. I Sir, messages from any body? You know not me, i'faith: I am not so stale yet, that I should fall to those trifles: for God bee praised, I haue life and flesh, and all my teeth and my grinders in my mouth, except some few, that the catarrhs which are so common in this country of arragon, haue usurped on: but stay a little, Sir, Ile go out and light my Candle, and Ile come in an instant, and relate my griefs to you, as to the redresser of all such like in the world: and so without staying for an answer, she left the rooms where Don Quixote remained stil and pensative expecting her: but strait, a thousand imaginations came into his mind touching this new adventure, and he thought it would be very ill done, or worse imagined, to endanger the breach of his vowed loyalty to his Mistris, and said to himself, Who knows whether the divell, that is so subtle and crafty, may deceive me now with this Matron? which he hath not been able to do with Empresses, queens, Duchesses, Marquesses: and I haue heard say often by many well experienced men, that he will rather make a man sin with a foul, then a faire one: and who knows whether this priuacie, this opportunity and silence, may not awake my desires now sleeping? and that now in my old age I may fall, where I never stumbled in such like chances? 'tis better fly, then try the combat: but sure I am out of my wits, since I talk thus idly; and sure it is not possible, that a white-stoled lanke-spectacled Matron should move or stir up a lascivious thought in the vngodliest breast in the world: Is there any Matron in the world that hath soft flesh? Is there any that is not foolish, nice and coy? avant then, you Matronly troops, unprofitable for mans delight.  
How well did that Lady, of whom it was observed that she had two Matrons Statue-wayes of wood, with their spectacles and Pin-pillowes at the end of her seat of State, as if they had been at work? and those Statues served as well to authorize her room, as if they had been real Matrons. And this said, he flung from the bed to haue shut the door, and not haue let Mistris Rodriguez come in: but as he was going to do it, she was come back with her Candle lighted of white wax: and when she saw Don Quixote near her, wrapped in his Quilt, his Bends, his woollen Cap, and a thick cloth about his neck, she began to fear again: and stepping two or three steps backward, she asked, Am I safe, Sir Knight? For I hold it not a very honest sign that you are up from your bed. Twere fit I asked that question of you, quoth Don Quixote; and therefore let me know, whether I shal be free from ravishing? By whom, quoth she? By you( said Don Quixote) for neither am I of Marble, or you of brass; neither is it now ten a clock at day time, but mid-night and something more, as I think: and wee are in a more secret and close couch, then the cave, in which the bold traitorous Aeneas enjoyed the faire and pitying Dido: but give me your hand, Mistris, and Ile haue no other assurance, then mine own continency and wariness: and in saying this, he kissed her right hand, and she laid hold of his, which shee gave him with the same solemnity.  
Here Cid Hamete makes a Parenthesis, and earnestly protesteth, he would haue given the best Coat he had, to haue seen them both go so joined and linked from the Chamber door to the bed.  
In fine, Don Quixote went to his bed, and Donna Rodriguez sate down in a chair a pretty way from it, without taking off her spectacles, or setting down the Candle.  
Don Quixote crowded up together, and covered himself all over, leaving nothing but his face vncouered: so both of them being quiet: the first that broken off their silence, was Don Quixote, saying, Now, Mistris Rodriguez, you may vnrip yourself, and dis-maw all that you haue in your troubled heart, and grieved entrails, which shall be heard by my chased ears, and relieved with my pious works.  
I beleeue no less, said the Matron: for from your gentle and pleasing presence, there could not bee but a Christian answer expected.  
Thus then it is; signor Don Quixote, that though you see me set in this chair, and in the midst of the kingdom of arragon, in the habit of a poor and way-beaten Matron; I was born in the 
A barren Mountainous country in spain, like our Wales.  Asturias and kingdom of Oniedo, and of a lineage allied to the best of that province: but my hard fortune, and my fathers lavishing, that grew to be a beggar before his time( God knows how) brought me to the Court at Madrid, where very quietly, and to avoid other inconveniencies, my friends placed me to serve as a Chamber-maid to a worthy Lady: and though I say it, that for white-worke, hemming and stitching, I was never yet put down in all my life. My friends left me at service, and returned homeward, and not long after went( in likelihood) to heaven, for they were wonderful good catholic Christians: thus was I an Orphan, and stinted to the miserable wages, and hard allowance, that at Court is given to such kind of seruants: and at that time( I not giuing any occasion thereto) a Squire of the house fell in love with me, somewhat an elderly man, bigge-bearded, and personable, and aboueall, as good a Gentleman as the King: for he was of the mountaines; we kept not our loues so close; but that they came to my Ladies ears: who without any more ado, with full consent of our holy Mother the catholic roman Church, caused us to be married, by which Matrimony to end my good fortune, if I had any; I had a Daughter, if I had any, I say it was ended, not that I dyed of childbed, for I miscarried not: but that my Husband not long after dyed of a fright he had, and had I time now to tell you of it, 'twould admire you: and with this, she began to weep most tenderly, and said, Pardon me, signor Don Quixote, for I cannot do withall; as often as I remember my unfortunate husband, the tears trickle down my eyes. Lord God! and how stately he would carry my Lady behind him, vpon a lusty black Mule, as black as leat: for then they used no Coaches nor hand-Chaires, as now( they say they do) and then Gentlewomen road behind their Squires: and I cannot but tell you this Tale, that you may see the punctualnesse and good manners of my Husband.  
As he was going in at Saint Iaques his street in Madrid, which was somewhat narrow, a judge of the Court, with two Sergeants before him, was coming out: and as soon as my honest Squire saw him, he turned his Mules reins, making show as if he would wait vpon him: My Lady that road behind, asked him softly, What dost thou, knave? dost not see that I am here? The judge very mannerly laid hold on his adjoin, and said, keep your way, Sir: for it were fitter for me to wait vpon my Lady, Casilda: for that was my Ladies name. Yet still my Husband was earnest with his Cap in his hand, and would haue waited on the judge: which when my Lady saw, full of wrath and anger, she pulled out a great Pin; or rather, as I beleeue, a little Bodkin out of her Essoises, and thrust him into the rump; insomuch, that my Husband cried out, and wriggling his body, my Lady and he came to the ground together.  
Two of her Lackayes came to raise her; and the judge and the Sergeants likewise: the gate of Guadalaxara was in an uproar, I mean the idle people up and down there.  
My Lady was fain to walk on foot, and my Husband got him to a Barbers house, saying, that he was run quiter thorough and thorough. This mannerlinesse of my Husbands, was bruited up and down; insomuch, that the very Boyes in the streets mocked him: so that for this, and because too he was somewhat purblind, my Lady the duchess turned him away: for grief of which, I verily beleeue, he dyed, and I remained Widow, and succourless, with a child to boot, that went on in increasing in beauty like the foam of the sea.  
Finally, for as much as I had the report of an excellent Seamstresse, my lady the duchess that was newly married to my Lord the Duke, would needs bring me with her here to this kingdom of arragon together with my Daughter; where in process of time shee grew up, and with her all the prettinesse that could be: she sings like a lark: she danceth in company as quick as thought, and alone, like a castaway, she writes& reads like a schoolmaster, and casts account like a usurer: for her cleanliness, I say nothing, the water that runs is not cleaner: and she is now( if I forget not) about sixteen yeeres old, five moneths, and three dayes, one or two more or less. In fine, a rich Farmers son fell in love with my daughter, one that liveth in one of my Lord the Dukes Villages, not far from hence: in effect I know not how: but they met, and under colour of marriage, he mocked my Daughter, and will not keep his promise, and though the Duke know it: for I haue complained to him often of it, and beseeched him, to command the young Farmer to mary my Daughter: but he hath a trades-mans ears, and will not hear me: the reason is, because the coozening knaves father is rich, and lends him money, and lets him haue credit every foot to go on with his juggling, and will by no means discontent or trouble him.  
I beseech you, Sir, therefore, to take vpon you the redressing of this wrong, either by entreaties, or by force; since as all the world says, you were born to right wrongs, and protect the needy; Consider that my Daughter is an Orphan; consider her gentleness, her youth, and al the good parts that I haue  told you of: For in my soul& conscience, amongst all the Damozels that my Lady hath, there is none worthy to untie her shoo: and one of them they call Altisidora, which is the lustiest and gallantest, in comparison of my daughter is no body. For let me tell you, Sir, All is not gold that glisters: for this Altisidora is more bold, then beauteous; more gamesome, then retired: besides, she is not very sound: for she hath a certain breath that annoys, and you cannot endure her to stand by you a moment; and my lady the duchess too: but Mum: they say walls haue ears.  
What ails my lady duchess: by your life, Mistris Rodriguez? quoth Don Quixote, By that, said shee, I cannot but answer you with all truth.  
do you mark, Sir, quoth she, that beauty of my Ladies, that smoothness of her face, that is like a polished sword, those two cheeks of milk and vermilion, in one of which she hath the sun, in the other the moon, and that state with which shee goes, trampling and despising the ground, as if shee went dealing of health up and down? Know, Sir, that first shee may thank God for it: and next, two issues that she hath in both her legs, at which all the ill humour is let out, of which Physicians say she is full.  
Saint Mary, quoth Don Quixote, and is it possible that my lady the duchess hath such out-lets? I should not haue believed it if bare-foot friars had  told me so: but since Donna Rodriguez tells me, it is so: but from such issues, and such places, no ill humour, but liquid Amber is distilled. I now verily beleeue, that this making of issues is a thing very necessary for the health.  
Scarce had Don Quixote ended this speech, when at one pluck the Chamber door was opened; and with the sudden fright Donna Rodriguez Candle fell out of her hand, and the room was as dark as Pitch, strait the Matron felt that they laid hands vpon her throat so hard, that they gave her no time to yawle: and one of them very quickly lifting up her Coats, with a Slipper( in likelihood) began to give her so many ierkes, that 'twas pity: and though Don Quixote had some compassion on her, yet he stirred not from his bed, and knew not what might be the matter: quiet was he, and silent; fearing lest the whipping task& tawing might light vpon him,& his fear was not needless: for when the silent executioners, had left the Matron well curried( who durst not cry out) they came to Don Quixote, and vnwrapping him from the Sheet and the Quilt, they pinched him so hard and so often, that he could but go to buffets to defend himself: and all this passed in admirable silence; the combat lasted some half an hour; the apparitions vanished; Donna Rodriguez tucked up her Coats, and bewailing her mishap, got her out of the door, not speaking a word to Don Quixote; who, heavy and all to bee pinched, sad and pensative, remained alone; where we will leave him desirous to know, who was the perverse Enchanter, that had so dressed him: but that shall be  told in due time. For Sancho Pansa calls us, and the Decorum of this history.   

CHAP. XLIX.  
What happened to Sancho in walking the Round in his island.  
WEe left the famous governor moody and angry with the knavish Husbandman-painter: who, instructed by the Steward, and the Steward by the Duke; all made sport with Sancho: but he held them all tack, though a fool, a Dullard, and a block; and said to those about him, and to Doctor Pedro Rezio: for as soon as he had ended the secret of the Dukes Letter, he came into the Hall again.  
certainly( said he) I think now, Iudges and Gouernours had need bee made of brass, that they may haue no feeling of the importunities of suitors, that would that at all houres and all times they should give them audience, and dispatch them, intending onely their business; let them haue never so much of their own: and if the poor judge hear them not, or dispatch them not; either because he cannot, or because they come not in a fit time to haue audience; strait they back-bite and curse him, gnaw his bones, and vnbury his ancestors. Oh foolish suitor and idle, make not such hast: stay for a fit season and coniuncture to negotiate in, come not at dinner time, or bed time: for Iudges are flesh and blood, and must satisfy nature, except it be I, that give myself nothing to eat, thankes to Master Doctor Pedro Rezio Tirte a fuera here present, that would haue me die for hunger, and yet stands in it, that this death is life: such a life God grant him and all of his profession: I mean such ill Physicians; for the good deserve laurel and palm.  
All that knew Sancho, admired him, when they heard him speak so elegantly, and knew not to what they should attribute it, except it were that Offices and great charges do either season the understanding, or altogether dull it.  
Finally, the Doctor Pedro Rezio Agnero de Tirte a fuera, promised him he should sup that night, though he exceeded all hippocrates his aphorisms.  
With this the governor was well pleased, and very greedily expected the coming of the night and supper-time, and though time( as he thought) stood still, not moving a jot from his place, yet at length it came, so longed for by him; and he had to supper a could mince-meat of beef and Onions, with a calves foot some-what stale, and fell to as contentedly, as if they had given him a God-wit of Milan, or a Pheasant of Rome, or veal of Sorrentum, or Partridges of Moron, or goose of L●naxos: and in the midst of his Supper, he turned to the Doctor and said, look ye, Master Doctor, hence-forward never care to give me dainties, or exquisite meats to eat; for you will pluck my stomach quiter off the hinges, which is used onely to Goat, beef and Bacon, pork and turnips, and Onions: and if you come to me with your Court-dishes, they make my stomach squeamish, and many times I loathe vm.  
carver, let it be your care to provide me a good Olla podrida, and the more podrida it is, the better, and more savoury; and in your Olla's you may boil and ballast in what you will, so it be victuals, and I will be mindful of you, and make you amends one day: and let no man play the fool with me, for either wee are, or wee are not. Let's bee merry and wise when the sun shines, he shines vpon all: Ile govern this island without looking my due, or taking Bribes; and therefore let all the world be watchful, and look to their boult, for I give vm to understand, there's rods in piss for them; and if they put me to it, they shall see wonders: I, I, cover yourselves with hony, and you shall see the flies will eat you.  
Truly, Sir governor, quoth the carver, you haue reason in all you speak; and let me promise you in the behalf of all the islanders of this island, that they will serve you with all diligence, love, and good will: for the sweet and mild kind of governing that hitherto in the beginning you haue used, makes them neither do nor speak ought that may redound to your contempt.  
I beleeue it, quoth Sancho, and they were very Asses if they did or thought otherwise; and therefore let me say again, Let there be a care had for the maintenance of my Person and Dapples, which is very important, and to the matter: And so when tis time to walk the Round, let us go; for my purpose is, to cleanse this island from all kind of filth, from vagamunds, lazy, and masterless persons: for know, friends, that slothful, and idle people in a Common-wealth, are the same that Drones in hives, that eat the hony which the labouring Bees make. I purpose to cherish the husbandman,& to grant the Gentlemen their preeminencies, to reward the virtuous,& above all, to haue Religion in reverence,& to honor religious persons.  
What think ye of this, friends? Say I ought? or do I talk idly? So well Sir, said the Steward, that I wonder to see that a man so without learning as you,( for I think you cannot skill of a letter) should speak such sentences and instructions, so contrary to what was expected from your wit by all that sent you, and by all us that came with you. every day we see novelties in the world, jests turned to earnest, and those that mock, are mocked at.  
Well, it was night, and the governor supped, with Master Doctor Rezio's licence. They made ready to walk the Round, the Steward, the Secretary, and carver went with him, and the Chroniclist, that was careful to keep a Register of his actions, together with Constables and Notaries; so many, that they might well make a reasonable squadron. Sancho went in the midst of them with his rod of Iustice, which was the only chief sight: and when they had walked some few streets of the town, they heard a noise of slashing, thither they made, and found that they were two men onely that were together by the ears; who seeing the Iustice coming, stood still, and the one of them said;  
Here for God and the King, shall I be suffered to be robbed in the midst of a town? and that the midst of the streets be made the high way?  
Softly, honest friend,( quoth Sancho) and tell me what's the reason of this fray, for I am the governor.  
The other, his contrary, said, Sir governor, Ile tell you briefly the matter. You shall understand Sir, that this Gentleman even now at a Gaming-house here over the way, got a thousand rials,( God knows by what tricks) and I being present, judged many a doubtful cast on his side, contrary to what my conscience  told me; he came away a winner, and when I thought he would haue given me a Pistolet at least for recompense, according to the use and custom 
Barato signifies originally cheap, but amongst gamesters, dar Barato, is when a gamester by way of courtesy gives something to a slander by: and this in spain is so frequent, that from the King to the beggar, all both give and take this Bar●….  of giuing to men of my fashion, which stand by vpon all occasions, to order differences, and to take up quarrels; he pursed up his money, and got him out of the house: I came hastily after him, yet with courteous language entreated him to give me only a matter of four shillings, since he knew me to be a good fellow, and that I had no other kind of trade or living; for my friends brought me up to nothing, nor left me nothing; and this cunning skabbe, no more thief then Cacus, nor less Cheater then 
Some famous Cheater in spain.  Andradilla, would give me but two shillings: So you may see, Sir governor, how shameless and void of Conscience he is. But i'faith if you had not come, I would haue made him vomit out his winning,& he should haue known how many pounds he had had in the scale.  
What say you to this( quoth Sancho?) And the other answered, That true it was which his contrary had said, that he would give him but two shillings, because he had often before given him, and they that expect what shall be given them in courtesy, must be mannerly, and take any thing that is given them, in good part, without standing vpon terms with the winner, except they knew him to be a Cheater, and that his money was unlawfully gotten, and that it might be seen that he for his part was honest, and not a thief, as the other said, there was no greater sign, then his giuing so little; for your Cheaters are always large Tributaries to the lookers on that know them.  
He says true, quoth the Steward, and therefore what is your pleasure, Sir, to do with these men?  
mary thus, quoth Sancho; you, Sir, that haue won, honest or knave, or indifferent, give your hackster here presently, a hundreth rials: besides, you shall disburse thirty more for the poor of the prison. And you, sir, that haue neither trade nor living, and live oddly in this island, take your hundreth rials, and by to morrow get you out of the island, and I banish you for ten yeeres, on pain, that if you break this order, you accomplish it in another life, by being hanged vpon a gybbet, by me, or at least, by the hangman, by my command.  
The one disbursed, and the other received; this went out of the island, and that home to his house: and the governor that remained said, Well, it shall cost me a fall, but I will put down these Gaming-houses; for I haue a kind of glimpse that they are very prejudicial.  
This at least, quoth one of the Notaries, you cannot remove, because it belongs to a man of quality, and he loseth a great deal more at the yeeres end then he gets by his Cards. Against other petty Gamesters you may show your authority; for they do more mischief, and conceal more abuses, then Gentlemen of qualities houses, where your famous Cheaters dare not use their sleights; and since the 'vice of play hath turned to so common a practise, 'tis better to suffer it in houses of fashion, then in poor mens, where they catch a poor snake, and from midnight till morning flay him quick.  
Well, Notary,( quoth Sancho) there's much to be said in this case. And now one of the Sergeants Yeomen, came with a Youth which he had laid fast hold on, and said,  
Sir, this Youth came towards us, and as he had a glimpse of the Iustice, he turned his back, and began to scud away like a Deere, a sign he is some delinquent; I ran after him, and had it not been that he stumbled and fell, I had never overtaken him.  
Why ranst thou, fellow,( quoth Sancho?) To which the young man answered, Sir, to avoid the many questions that your Constables use to ask. What trade are you of? A weaver, said he. And what wave you? Iron pegs for launces, with your Worships good leave. You are a pleasant companion, Sir, and you presume to play the jester: 'tis very well. And whither went you now? To take the air, Sir. And where in this island would you haue taken the air? Where it blows. Good, you answer to the purpose, Youth; make account then that I am the air, and that I blow a-sterne on you, and steer you to the prison. go to, lay hold on him, carry him for to night, Ile make him sleep without air in the prison. I protest( quoth the Youth) you shall as soon make me King, as make me sleep this night in prison. Why( quoth Sancho) haue not I power to apprehended thee, and free thee when I please? For all your power, said the Youth, you shall not make me sleep this night in Prison. No? you shall see( quoth Sancho:) carry him presently where he shall see his error; and lest the layler should for a bribe befriend him, Ile lay a penalty of two thousand Crownes vpon him, if he let thee stir a foot out of the prison. All this is needless, said the Youth: the business is, All the world shall not make me sleep this night in prison. Tell me, fiend, quoth Sancho, hast thou some angel to free thee, or take thy shackles off that I mean to haue clapped on thee? Well, Sir,( quoth the Youth very pleasantly) let's come to reason, and to the matter. Suppose you command me to be carried to prison, and that I haue shackles and chains put vpon me, and that I be put into a dungeon, and that there be extraordinary penalties inflicted vpon the jailor if he let me out: for all that, if I mean not to sleep, or to join my eye-lids together all night; Can you with all your Authority make me sleep against my will?  
No indeed( said the secretary) the fellow is in the right: so that( quoth Sancho) your forbearing to sleep, is onely to haue your own will, but not to contradict mine. No otherwise, Sir,( quoth the Youth) not so much as in thought.  
Well, God bee with you,( quoth Sancho) get you home to bed, and God sand you good rest, I mean not to disturb you; but let me aduise you, that henceforward you be not so conceited with the Iustice; for you may meet with one that will clap your wit to your noddle.  
The young man went his way, and the governor went on with his Rounding, and a while after there came two Yeomen with a man in hold, and said, Sir, heres one that seems to be a man, but is none, but a woman, and not ill-favoured, clad in a mans habit. Then they set two or three lanterns to his face, and perceived a womans face, to look to, of about sixteen yeers of age; her hair plaited up with a cawl of gold& green silk, as faire as a thousand pearls: they beholded her all over, and saw that she had on her a pair of Carnation silk stockings,& white Taffata garters fringed with gold,& embroidered with pearl; her long breeches were of cloth of gold, and the ground work green, with a loose cassock or jerkin of the same, opened on both sides, under which she had also a Doublet of cloth of gold, the ground white: her shoes were white mens shoes, she had no sword, but a very faire hatched dagger, with many rings vpon her fingers.  
finally, shee pleased them all very well, but none of them knew her. The Inhabitants of the place said, they could not guess who she should be; and they that were the contrivers of the tricks against Sancho, were those that most seemed to admire, because that accident and chance was not purposed by them: so they were in suspense, to see what would be the issue of it.  
Sancho was amazed at the maidens beauty, and he asked her who she was, whither she would, and what occasion had moved her to clad herself in that habit?  
She, with her eyes fixed vpon the earth, most shamefac'dly answered,  
Sir, I cannot tell you in public, what concerns me so much to be kept secret: onely this let me tell you; I am no thief nor malefactor, but an unhappy maid, forced by some jealousies to break the decorum due to my honesty. Which when the Steward heard, he said to Sancho; Sir, command the company aside, that this Gentlewoman may tell her tale without being abashed. the governor gave his command, and all of them went aside, but the Steward, the carver, and Secretary. Being thus private, the maid proceeded, saying;  
I, Sirs, am daughter to Pedro Perez Mazorca, Farmer of this towns wools, that often useth to go and come to my Fathers house. There's no likelihood in this, Gentlewoman, quoth the Steward; for I know Pedro Perez very well, and know that he hath never a child, neither Male nor Female: besides, you say he is your Father, and by and by you add, that he useth to go often to your Fathers house. I thought vpon that too( quoth Sancho.) Why alas( quoth she) I am so frighted, that I know not what I say: but true it is, that I am daughter to Diego de la Liana, whom I believe, you all know. This may be( said the Steward) for I know Diego de la Liana to be an honest and a wealthy Gentleman, and that he hath a son and a daughter, and since he hath been a widower, there's none in this town can say he hath seen his daughters face; for he keeps her so close, that he scarce gives the sun leave to look on her: and for all that, famed says she is wondrous faire.  
Tis true( quoth the Maid) and I am that daughter, whether famed lye or no, concerning my beauty; now you are satisfied, since you haue beholded me; and with this she began to weep tenderly. Which when the Secretary saw, he whispered the carver in the ear, and  told him; doubtless some matter of consequence hath befallen this poor Virgin, since in this habit, and at this time of night, being so well born, she is from her home. There's no doubt of that( quoth the carver) for her tears too confirm the suspicion.  
Sancho comforted her the best he could, and bad her without fear, tell what had befallen her; for that all of them would strive to give her remedy with all possible diligence.  
The business, Sirs, quoth she, is this: My Father hath kept me close these ten yeeres; for so long it is since my Mother died: in the house wee haue a chapel, where mass is said, and I in all this time haue seen nothing but the sun by day, and the moon and stars by night: neither know I what streets, or Market-places, or Churches are, nor men, except my Father. a Brother of mine, and Pedro Perez the former, who because he useth to come ordinarily to our house, it came into my mind to say he was my father, because I would conceal the right. This keeping me close, and denying me to stir not so much as to the Church, hath this good while discomforted me, and I had a desire to see the world, at least, the town where I was born, as thinking this longing of mine was not against the Decorum that Maidens of my birth ought to observe: when I heard talk of Bull-baitings, running with Reedes, and representing Comedies: I asked my Brother that is a year younger then I, what kind of things those were, and many others, which I haue not seen; and he  told me as well as he could: but all was to inflame my desire the more to see.  
Finally, to shorten my mis-fortune, I entreated my Brother,( I would I had never done it:) and then shee renewed her tears.  
Then said the Steward, On, Gentlewoman, and make an end of telling us what hath befallen you: for you hold us all in suspense, with your words, and your tears.  
Few words haue I to say( quoth shee) but many tears to weep: for they be the fruits of ill placed desires.  
The Maids beauty was now planted in the carvers heart, and he held up his lantern again, to behold her afresh; and it seemed to him, that she wept not tears, but seed-pearle, or morning due. and he thought higher, that they were liker oriental pearls; and his wish was, that her mis-fortune might not bee such, as the shows of her mone and sighing might promise.  
The governor was mad at the Wenches slowness and delaying her Story; and bade her, she should make an end, and hold them no longer in suspense, for that it was late, and they had much of the town to walk. Shee betwixt broken sobs, and halfe-fetcht sighs, said, My mis-fortune is nothing else, but that I desired my Brother that he would cloath me in mans apparel, in one of his suits; and that some night or other he would carry me to see the town, when my father should be asleep; he importuned by my entreaties, condescended to my request: and putting this suit on me; and he putting on another of mine, that fits him, as if it were made for him; for he hath never a hair vpon his chin, and might bee taken for a most beautiful Maid: this night somewhat above an hour ago, we went abroad; and rambling up and down, wee haue gone throughout the whole town: and going homeward, we saw a great troope of people coming towards us; and my Brother said, Sister: this is the Round, Take you to your heels, and put wings to them, and follow me, that we be not known: for it will bee ill for us; and this said, he turned his back, and began, I say not, to run, but to fly: I within four or five steps fell down for fear; and then came this Officer that brought me before you; where, for my vilde longing, I am shamed before so many people. So that, Gentlewoman,( qd. Sancho) no other mis-hap hath befallen you; neither was it iealousy, as you said in the beginning of your tale, that made you go abroad? Nothing else( said shee) nor jealousies: but a desire to see the world, and which extended no further, then to see this towns streets; and the coming now of two other Yeomen with her Brother, confirmed this to bee true, whom one of them ouertook, when he fled from his Sister: He had nothing on, but a rich Kirtle, and a half Mantle of blue damask, edged with a broad gold Lace: his head without any kind of dressing or adornment, then his own locks; which by reason of their colour and curling, seemed to bee rings of gold. Aside they went with the governor, the Steward and the carver, and not letting his Sister here; they asked why he came in that habit? And he with the same shamefaced bashfulness  told the same Tale that his Sister had done: at which the enamoured carver was wonderfully pleased. But the governor said to them, truly hoe, this hath been a great childishness in you; and you needed not so many sighs and tears, to tell such a piece of foolish boldness: for it had been enough if you had said, We such and such a one, went out of our fathers house, only for curiosity to walk up and down the town; and there had been an end, without your sighing and your whining, on Gods name.  
You say true, Sir, quoth the Maid: but you may think that I was so troubled, that I could not tell how to behave myself.  
There's nothing lost( quoth Sancho) let's go, and wee will leave you in your fathers house; perhaps he will not haue missed you: and from hence-forward bee not such children, nor so longing to see the world: for the honest Maid better at home with a bone broken, then a gadding: the Woman and the Hen are lost with straggling: and let me tell you too; shee that desires to see, hath a desire likewise to bee seen, and I say no more.  
The Youth thanked the governor for the favour he did them, to let them go home; whither they went for it was not far from thence.  
Home they came, and the Youth throwing a little ston at one of the Iron windows, strait there came a Maid-seruant down, that sate up for them, and opened them the door, and in they went, leaving those without as well to admire her gentleness and beauty; as the desire they had to see the world by night, without stirring out of the town: but they attributed all to their slender age.  
The carvers heart was struck thorough; and he purposed the next day to demand her of her Father to wife; assuring himself, he would not deny her him, because he was the Dukes seruant: Sancho too had a certain longing and inkling to mary the Youth with his Daughter Sanchica: and he determined to put the matter in practise betimes, as thinking that a Gouernours Daughter was fit for any Husband: and so the Round was ended for that night: and some two dayes after, his government too, with which all his designs were lopped off, and blotted out, as hereafter shall be said.   

CHAP. L.  
Where is declared, who were the Enchanters, and Executioners, that whipped the Matron, pinched and scratched Don Quixote, with the success the page. had that carried the Letter to Teresa Pansa, Sancho's wife.  
CID Hamete, the most punctual Searcher of the very moats of this true History, says, that when Donna Rodriguez went out of her Chamber, to go to Don Quixotes lodging, another Waiting-woman that lay with her, perceived her: and as all of them haue an itch to smell after novelties, she went after so softly, that the good Rodriguez perceived it not: and as soon as the Waiting-woman saw her go in to Don Quixote, that she might not be defective in the general custom of make-bates; shee went presently to put this into the Duchesses head, and so  told her that Donna Rodriguez was in Don Quixotes Chamber: the duchess  told the Duke, and asked his leave, that she and Altisidora might go see what the Matron would haue with Don Quixote: the Duke granted, and both of them very softly came close to Don Quixotes door, and so near, that they heard all that was spoken within: and when the duchess heard that Rodriguez had set the Aranxnez of her springs a running in the streets, she could not suffer it, nor Altisidora neither: so, full of rage, and greedy to reuenge, they entred the chamber suddenly,& stabbed Don Quixote with their nailes, and banged the Woman, as hath been related: for affronts that are directly done against beauty, do awaken womens choler, and inflame in them a desire of reuenge.  
The duchess  told the Duke what had passed, which made him passing merry: and the duchess proceeding with her intention of mirth and pastime with Don Quixote, dispatched the page. that played the Enchanted Dulcinea's part( for Sancho had forgotten it, being busied in his government) to Teresa Pansa with her Husbands Letter, and another from herself, and a chain of faire coral for a token.  
The Story too tells us, that the page. was very discreet and witty, and with a desire to serve his Lords, he went with a very good will to Sancho's town: and before he entred into it, he saw a company of women washing in a brook: whom he asked, if they could tell him, if there lived in that town a woman, whose name was Teresa Pansa, wife to one Sancho Pansa, Squire to a Knight called Don Quixote de la Mancha: to which question, a little girl that was washing there, stood up and said, That Teresa Pansa is my Mother, and that Sancho my Father, and that Knight our Master.  
Well then, damosel, quoth the page., Come and bring me to your Mother; for I bring her a Letter and a present, from your said Father.  
That I will with a very good will, Sir, said the Wench, that seemed to bee about a some fourteen yeeres of age, more or less: and leaving the clothes that she was washing, to another companion of hers, without dressing her head, or putting on stockings and shoes,( for she was barelegged, and with her hair about her ears) she leaped before the Pages Beast he road on, and said, Come, Sir, for our house is just as you come in at the town, and there you shall find my Mother, with sorrow enough, because shee hath not heard from my Father this great while.  
Well, I haue so good news for her( quoth he) that she may thank God for it.  
At length, leaping, running, and jumping, the girl got to the town, and before she came into the house, she cried out aloud at the door: Come out, mother, Teresa, Come out, come out: for here's a Gentleman hath Letters and other things from my good Father: at which noise Teresa Pansa her Mother came out, spinning a role of Flax, with a Russet Petti-coat, and it seemed by the shortness of it, that it had been cut off at the Placket; and she had Russet bodies of the same, and shee was in her smock sleeves; she was not very old, for she looked as if shee had been about forty: but she was strong, tough, sinowie, and raw-boned; who seeing her Daughter, and the page. a horseback, said, What's the matter, child? What Gentleman is this? A seruant of my Lady Teresa Pansa's( quoth the page.:) so, doing and speaking, he flung himself from his horse, and with great humility went to prostrate himself before the Lady Teresa, saying, My Lady Teresa, give me your hands to kiss, as you are lawful and particular Wife to my Lord Don Sancho Pansa, proper governor of the island Barataria.  
Ah good Sir, forbear I pray do not do so, quoth Teresa: for I am no Court-noll, but a poor Husband-woman, a Ploughmans daughter, and wife to a Squire errand, and not a governor.  
You are( quoth the page.) a most worthy wife, to an Arch-worthy governor: and for proof of what I say, I pray receive this Letter, and this token; when instantly he plucked out of his pocket a coral string, with the laced Beads of gold, and put it about her neck, and said, This Letter is from the governor, and another that I bring; and these Corals are from my Lady the duchess that sends me to you.  
Teresa was amazed, and her daughter also: and the Wench said, Hang me, if our Master Don Quixote haue not a hand in this business; and he it is that hath given my Father this government or earldom, that he so often promised him.  
You say true( quoth the page.) for, for signor Don Quixotes sake, signor Sancho Pansa is now governor of the island Barataria, as you shall see by this Letter.  
read it, gentle Sir, said Teresa: for though I can spin, I cannot read a jot; nor I neither, added Sanchica: but stay a little and Ile call one that shall; either the Vicar himself, or the Bachelor Samson Carasco, who will both come hither with all their hearts to hear news of my Father.  
You need not call any body, said he: for though I cannot spin, yet I can read, and therefore I will read it; so he did throughout: which, because it was before related, it is not now set down here: and then he drew out the Duchesses, which was as followeth:  
Friend Teresa, your Husbands good parts of his wit and honesty, moved and obliged me, to request the Duke my Husband, to give him the government of one of the many islands he hath: I haue understood, that he governs like a Ier-Falcon, for which I am very glad; and consequently my Lords the Duke: for which I render heaven many thankes, in that I haue not been deceived in making choice of him for the said government: for let me tell, Mistris Teresa, it is a very difficult thing, to find a good governor in the world; and so God deal with me, as Sancho governs. I haue sent you( my beloved) a string of coral Beads, with the tens of gold, I could wish they had been oriental pearls; but something is better then nothing: time will come, that we may know and converse one with another; and God knows what will become of it.  
Commend me to Sanchica your Daughter, and bid her from me, that she be in a readiness; for I mean to mary her highly when she least thinks of it.  
They tell me, that in your town there, you haue goodly acorns, I pray sand me some two dozen of them, and I shall esteem them much as coming from you: and writ me at large, that I may know of your health,& well-being, and if you want ought, there is no more to be done but mouth it,& your mouth shall haue full measure, so God keep you.  
From this town. Your loving friend, The duchess.  
Lord! qd. Teresa, when she heard the Letter, What a good plain meeke-Lady' tis! God bury me with such Ladies, and not with your stately ones that are used in this town, who think, because they are Iantle-folks, the wind must not touch them: and they go so fantastically to Church, as if they were queens at least,& they think it a disgrace to vm to look vpon a poor country Woman: But look you, here's a good Lady, that though shee be a duchess, calls me friend, and useth me as if I were her equal: equal may I see her with the highest Steeple in the Mancha: and concerning her Acorns, signor mine, I will sand her Ladyship a whole peck, that every body shall behold, and admire them for their bigness: and now, Sanchica, do thou see that this Gentleman bee welcome: set his Horse up, and get some eggs out of the Stable, and cut some Bacon: he shall fare like a Prince, for the good news he hath brought us, and his good face deserves it all: in the mean time I will go tell my neighbours of this good news, and to our father Vicar, and Master Nicholas the Barber, who haue been, and still are so much thy fathers friends.  
Yes mary will I( quoth Sanchica:) but hark you: you must give me half that string, for I do not think my lady duchess such a fool, that she would sand it all to her.  
Tis all thine, Daughter, said Teresa: but let me wear it a few dayes about my neck: for verily, it glads me to the heart.  
You will be glad( quoth the page.) when you see the bundle that I haue in my Port-mantue, which is a garment of fine cloth, which the governor onely wore one day a Hunting, which he hath sent to Mistris Sanchica. Long may he live( quoth Sanchica) and he that brings it too.  
Teresa went out with her chain about her neck, and played with her fingers vpon her Letters, as if they had been a Timbrel: and meeting by chance with the Vicar, and Samson Carrasco, she began to dance, and to say, I faith now there is none poor of the kin, we haue a little government; No, no. Now let the proudest Gentlewoman of vm all meddle with me, and Ile show her a new trick.  
What madness is this, Teresa: Pansa, and what papers are these? No madness( quoth she) but these are Letters from Duchesses and Gouernours: and these I wear about my neck are fine Corals; the Aue-Maries and Pater-nosters are of beaten gold, and I am a governess.  
Now God shield us, Teresa: wee understand you not, neither know we what you mean.  
There you may see( quoth Teresa) and gave vm the Letters.  
The Vicar reads them that Samson Carrasco might hear: so he and the Vicar looked one vpon the other, wondering at what they had red.  
And the Bachelor asked, Who brought those Letters? Teresa answered, that they should go home with her, and they should see the Messenger; A young Youth, as faire as a golden Pine-Apple, and that he brought her another Present twice as good.  
The Vicar took the Corals from her neck, and beholded them again and again, and assuring himself that they were right, he began to wonder afresh and said; By my Coat I swear, I know not what to say or think of these Letters and Tokens: for on the one side, I see and touch the fineness of these Corals; and on the other, that a duchess sends to beg two dozen of acorns. Come crack me this nut, quoth Carrasco. Well, let us go see the Bearer of this Letter, and by him we will be informed of these doubts that are offered. They did so, and Teresa went back with them: they found the page. sifting a little Barley for his Beast,& Sanchica cutting a Rasher to 
Para Empedarte. A pretty Metaphor, for in Spain they use to fry their Collops and eggs all together: not as we do, first Bacon, and then eggs,& therfore the Author calls it paving.  pave it, with eggs for the Pages dinner, whose presence and attire much contented them both; and after they had courteously saluted him, and he them, Samson asked him for news as well of Don Quixote as Sancho: for though they had red Sancho and the Lady Duchesses Letters, yet they were troubled, and could not guess what Sancho's government should mean, especially of an island, since all or the most that were in the Mediterranean Sea belonged to his majesty.  
To which the page. answered: That signor Sancho Pansa is governor, tis not to be doubted, but whether it be an island or no that he governs, I meddle not with it: tis enough that it is a place of above a thousand Inhabitants. And concerning the acorns, let me tell you: My Lady the duchess is so plain and humble, that her sending for acorns to this Country-woman is nothing. I haue known when she hath sent to borrow a comb of one of her neighbours, and let me tell you; The Ladies of arragon, though they be as Noble, yet they stand not so much vpon their points, neither are so lofty as your Castilians, and they are much plainer.  
whilst they were in the midst of this discourse, Sanchica came leaping with her lap full of eggs, and asked the page.; Tell me, Sir, doth my Father wear pained hose since his being governor? I never marked it, quoth the page., but sure he doth. Oh God, quoth she, what a sight it would be, to see my Father in his linen hose first! how say you? that ever since I was born I haue had a desire to see my Father in pained hose. With many of these you shal see him( quoth the page.) if you live. And I protest, if his government last him but two Moneths longer, he will be likely to wear a cap with a beaver.  
The Vicar and Bachelor perceived very well, that the page. played the lack with them; but the goodness of the Corall-beades, and the hunting svit that Sancho sent, made all strait again, for Teresa had shewed them the apparel, and they could not but laugh at Sanchica's desire, and most, when Teresa said, Master Vicar, pray will you harken out if there be any body that go toward Madrid or Toledo, that they may buy me a Farthingale round and well made, just in the fashion, and of the best sort, for intruth, intruth, I mean to credit my Husbands government as much as I can; and if I be angry, Ile to Court myself too, and haue my Coach as well as the best: for she that hath a governor to her Husband, may very well haue it, and maintain it.  
And why not Mother( quoth Sanchica?) and the sooner the better, though those that see me set with my Mother in the Coach should say, look ye on mistress Whacham, good-man Garlicke-eaters daughter, how she is set& stretched at ease in the Coach, as if she were a Pope Joan: but let them tread in the dirt, and let me go in my Coach: a pox on all backe-biters; the fox fares best when he is cursed. Say I well, Mother mine? Very well( quoth she) and my good Sancho foretold me of all these blessings and many more; and thou shalt see, daughter, Ile never rest till I am a countess; for all is but to begin well, and( as I haue often heard thy good father say, who is likewise the father of proverbs,) Look not a given horse in the mouth: when a government is given thee, take it; when an earldom, gripe it; and when they 
His, his, as if it were the calling a dog, to give him meat.  hist, hist, to thee with a reward, take it up. No, no, be careless, and answer not good fortune when shee knocks at your doors. And what care I( quoth Sanchica) what he say that sees me stately and majestical? there's a dog in a doublet, and such like.  
When the Vicar heard all this, he said, I cannot beleeue but all the stock of the Pansa's were born with a bushel of proverbs in their bellies, I never saw any of them that did not scatter vm at all times, and vpon all occasions. You say true( quoth the page.) for signor Sancho the governor speaks them every foot: and though many of them be nothing to the purpose, yet they delight, and my Lady the duchess, and the Duke do much celebrate them. That still you should affirm, Sir, that this of Sancho's government is true,& that there can be any duchess in the world that sends him Presents, and writes to him; for we, although we see them, and haue red the Letters, yet wee cannot beleeue it; and wee think that this is one of Don Quixote our countryman his inventions, who thinks that all are by way of Enchantment: So that I am about to desire to feel and touch you, to see whether you bee an airy Ambassador, or a man of flesh and blood.  
Sir,( quoth the page.) all I know of myself, is, that I am a real Ambassador, and that signor Sancho Pansa is an effective governor, and that my Lords the Duke and duchess may give, and haue given the said government; and I haue heard say, that the said Sancho Pansa demeans himself most robustiously in it. If in this there be any Enchantment, you may dispute it amongst yourselves, for I know no more, by an oath I shall swear, which is, By the life of my Parents, who are alive, and I love them very well.  
It may very well be, quoth the Bachelor, but dubitat Augustinus. Doubt it whose will( quoth the page.) I haue  told you the truth, which shall always prevail above lies, as the oil above the water: and if not operibus credite& non verbis, one of you go with me, and you shall see with your eyes what you will not beleeue with your ears. That journey will I go, quoth Sanchica: you shall carry me, Sir, at your horses crupper, and Ile go with a very good will to see my Father. Gouernours Daughters( quoth he) must not travell alone, but accompanied with Carroches and horse-Litters, and good store of seruants. mary( quoth Sancha) I can go as well vpon a young Asse-Colt, as vpon a Coach; you haue a dainty piece of me no doubt.  
Peace wench, said Teresa, thou knowest not what thou sayest; and this Gentleman is in the right; the times are altered: When thy Father was Sancho, then mightst thou be Sancha; but now he is governor, Madam; and I know not whether I haue said ought. mistress Teresa says more then shee is ware of,( quoth the page.) and now pray let me dine, and be quickly dispatched, for I must return this afternoon. Then, quoth the Vicar, you shall do penance with me to day, for mistress Teresa hath more good will then good cheer to welcome so good a guest. The page. refused, but for his better fare; he was forced to accept of the kindness; and the Vicar carried him the more willingly, that he might haue time to ask at leisure after Don Quixote's exploits. The Bachelor offered Teresa to writ the answers of her Letters, but shee would not that he should deal in her affairs; for she held him to be a scoffer: and so she gave a little role of bread, and a couple of eggs to a little monk that could writ, who wrote her two Letters, one for her Husband, and the other for the duchess, framed by her own pate, and are not the worst in all this grand History, as you may see hereafter.   

CHAP. LI.  
Of Sancho's proceeding in his government, with other successses, as good as Touch.  
THe day appeared after the governors Rounding night, in which the carver slept not a whit, being busied in thinking vpon the face, feature, and beauty of the disguised damosel: and the Steward spent the remainder of it, in writing to his Lords, Sancho Pansa's words and actions, both which he equally admired; for both were mixed with certain appearances of Discreet and fool.  
The governor in fine was gotten up, and by Doctor Pedro Rezio's appointment, he broken his fast with a little conserve, and some two or three spoonfuls of could water, which Sancho would willingly haue changed for a piece of bread, and a bunch of grapes; but seeing there was no remedy, he passed it over, though with much grief of mind,& weariness of stomach: for Pedro Rezio made him believe, that few dishes, and those delicate, did quicken the wit, which was the onely thing for persons that bore Rule, and weighty Offices; where they must benefit themselves, not onely with corporal force, but strength of understanding too.  
With this Sophistry Sancho was almost starved, so that in secret he cursed the government, and also him that gave it him; but yet, with his hunger and his conserve, he sate in iudgement that day, and the first thing that came before him, was a doubt that a stranger proposed unto him, the Steward and the rest of the fraternity being present, and it was this:  
Sir, a main river divided two parts of one Lordship( I pray mark, for it is a case of great importance, and somewhat difficult) I say then, that vpon this river there was a Bridge, and at the end of it a gallows, and a kind of Iudgement Hall, in which there were ordinarily four Iudges, that judged according to the Law that the owner of the river, Bridge,& Lordship had established, which was this: If any one be to pass from one side of this Bridge to the other, he must first swear whither he goes, and what his business is: if he swear true, let him pass; if he lie, let him be hanged vpon the gallows that shows there without remission. This Law being divulged, and the rigorous condition of it, many passed by, and presently by their oaths it was seen whether they said true, and the Iudges let them pass freely. It fell out that they took one mans oath, who swore and said, that he went to be hanged vpon that gallows, and for nothing else.  
The Iudges were at a stand, and said, If we let this man pass, he lied in his oath, and according to the Law he ought to die; and if we hang him, he swore he went to die vpon the gallows, and having sworn truly, by the same Law he ought to be free. It is now, Sir governor, demanded of you, what should be done with this man, for the Iudges are doubtful and in suspense; and having had notice of your quick and elevated understanding, they sent me to you, to desire you on their behalves to give your opinion in this intricate and doubtful case.  
To which( quoth Sancho:) truly these Iudges that sand you to me might haue saved a labour; for I am one that haue as much wit as a Setting-dog: but howsoever, repeat me you the business once again, that I may understand it, and perhaps I may hit the mark.  
The Demandant repeated again, and again, what he had said before; and Sancho said, In my opinion it is instantly resolved, as thus:  
The man swears, that he goes to die vpon the gallows: and if he die so, he swore true; and so by the Law deserves to pass free: and yet if he be not hanged, he swore false; and by the same Law he ought to be hanged Tis just as Master governor hath said, quoth the Messenger; and concerning the understanding the case, there is no more to be required or doubted. I say then( quoth Sancho) that they let that part of the man pass that spoken truth, and that which  told a lie, let them hang it, and so the condition of the Law shall be literally accomplished.  
Why, Sir, said the Demandant, then the man must be divided into two parts, lying and true; and if he be divided, he must needs die, and so there is nothing of the Law fulfilled, and it is expressly needful that the Law be kept.  
Come hither, honest fellow( quoth Sancho) either I am a very soldier-like, or this Passenger you speak of, hath the same reason to die, as to live and pass the bridge; for if the truth save him, the lie condemns him equally: which being so as it is, I am of opinion, that you tell the Iudges that sent you to me, That since the reasons to save or condemn him, be in one rank, that they let him pass freely; for it is ever more praise-worthy to do good, then to do ill; and this would I give under my hand, if I could writ: and in this case I haue not spoken from myself, but I remember one precept amongst many others, that my Master Don Quixote gave me the night before I came to be governor, which was; That when Iustice might be any thing doubtful, I should leave, and apply myself to pitty: and it hath pleased God I should remember it in this case, which hath fallen out pat.  
Tis right, quoth the Steward: and sure, Licurgus lawgiver to the Lacedemonians, could not haue given a better sentence then that which the Grand Sancho Pansa hath given. And now this Mornings audience may end, and I will give order that the governor may dine plentifully. That I desire( quoth Sancho) and let's haue faire play: Let me dine, and then let Cases and Doubts rain vpon me, and Ile snuff them apace.  
The Steward was as good as his word, holding it to be a matter of Conscience, to starve so discreet a governor: Besides, his purpose was to make an end with him that night, performing the last iest, which he had in Commission, towards him. It happened then, that having eaten contrary to the prescriptions and orders of the Doctor Tirtefuera, when the cloth was taken away, there came in a post with a Letter of Don Quixotes, to the governor. Sancho commanded the Secretary to red it to himself, and that if there came no secret in it, he should red it aloud. The Secretary did so, and suddenly running of it over, said, It may well be red out, for this that Don Quixote writes to you, deserves to be stamped and written in golden letters, and thus it is.  
Don Quixotes Letter to Sancho Pansa, governor of the island Barataria.  
WHen I thought( friend Sancho) to haue heard news of thy negligence and folly, I heard it of thy discretion; for which I gave to God particular thankes. I hear thou Gouernest as if thou wert a man, and that thou art a man as if thou wert a beast, such is thy humility thou usest; yet let me note unto thee, that it is very necessary and convenient many times, for the Authority of a place to go against the humility of the heart: for the adornment of the person that is in eminent Offices, must be according to their greatness, and not according to the measure of the meek condition, to which he is inclined. go well clad, for a Stake well dressed, seems not to be so: I say not to thee that thou wear toys, or gaudy gay things; not that being a judge thou go like a soldier, but that thou adorn thyself with such a habit as thy place requires; so that it be handsome and neat.  
To get the good will of those thou Gouernest, amongst others, thou must do two things: the one, to be courteous to all, which I haue already  told thee of; and the other, to see that there be plenty of sustenance; for there is nothing that doth more weary the hearts of the poor, then hunger and dearth.  
Make not many Statute-Lawes, and those thou dost make, see they be good, but chiefly that they be observed and kept, for Statutes not kept, are the same as if they were not made; and do rather show that the Prince had wisdom and Authority to make them, then valour to see that they should bee kept: and laws that onely threaten, and are not executed, become like the beam, King of frogs, that at first scared them, but in time they despised, and got up on the top of it.  
Be a Father of virtue, but a father-in-law of 'vice.  
Be not always cruel, nor always merciful, choose a mean betwixt these two extremes, for this is a point of discretion.  
Visit the Prisons, the Shambles, and the Markets; for in such places, the Gouernours presence is of much importance.  
Comfort the prisoners that hope to bee quickly dispatched.  
Be a Bull-begger to the Butchers, and a scarre-Crow to the Huckster-women for the same reason.  
show not thyself( though perhaps thou art, which yet I believe not) covetous, or a Whoore-monger, or a Glutton; for when the town, and those that converse with thee, know which way thou art inclined, there they will set vpon thee, till they cast thee down head-long.  
View and review, pass and repass thine eyes over the Instructions I gave thee in writing, before thou wentest from hence to thy government, and thou shalt see, how thou findest in them, if thou observe them, an allowance to help thee to bear& pass over the troubles that are incident to governors.  
writ to thy Lords, and show thyself thankful: for ingratitude is the daughter of pride, and one of the greatest sins that is: and he that is thankful to those that haue done him good, gives a testimony that he will be so to God too, that hath done him so much good, and daily doth continue it.  
My Lady duchess dispatched a Messenger a purpose with thy apparel: and another Present to thy wise Teresa Pansa; every minute we expect an answer.  
I haue been somewhat ill at ease of late with a certain Catbusinesse that happened to me not very good for my nose, but 'twas nothing: for if there be Enchanters that misuse me, others there be that defend me. Let me know if the Steward that is with thee, had any hand in Trifaldis actions, as thou suspectedst: and let me hear likewise of all that befalls thee, since the way is so short; besides, I think to leave this idle life ere long, for I was not born to it.  
here is a business at present, that I beleeue will bring me in disgrace with these Nobles: but though it much concern me, I care not: for indeed I had rather comply with my profession, then with their wils, according to the saying; Amicus Plato, said magis amica veritas. I writ thee this latin, because I think since thy being governor thou hast learnt to understand it. And so farewell, God keep thee and sand that no man pity thee.  
Thy friend, Don Quixote de la Mancha.  
Sancho heard the Letter very attentively, and those that heard it, applauded it for a very discreet one: and presently Sancho rose from the Table, and calling the secretary, locked him to him in his lodging Chamber, and without more delay, meant to answer his Master Don Quixote: and therefore he bade the secretary, without adding or diminishing ought, to writ what he would haue him; which he did: and the Letter in answer was of this ensuing tenor.  
Sancho Pansa's Letter to Don Quixote de la Mancha.  
MY business and employments are so great, that I haue not leisure either to scratch my Head, or pare my nails, which is the reason they are so long( God help me.)  
This I say( dear signor mine) that you may not wonder, if hitherto I haue not given you notice of my well or ill being at this government; in which I am now more hungry, then when you and I traveled in the Woods, and wilderness.  
My Lord the Duke wrote me the other day, by way of advice, that there were certain Spies entred the island, to kill me: but hitherto, I haue discovered none but a certain Doctor, who is entertained in this Town, to kill as many governors as come to it: and his name is Doctor Pedro Rezio, born in Tirtea fuera: that you may see what a name this is for me to fear lest he kill me.  
This aforesaid Doctor says of himself, that he cures not infirmities when they are in present being, but prevents them before they come: and the Medicines he useth, are diet vpon diet, till he makes a man nothing but bare bones; as if leanness were not a greater sickness then a Calenture.  
Finally, he hath even starved me, and I am ready to die for anger: for when I thought to haue comen to this island to eat good warm things, and to drink cool, and to recreate my body in Holland sheets, and Feather-beds; I am forced to do penance, as if I were an hermit: and because I do it unwillingly, I beleeue at the upshot the divell will haue me.  
Hitherto haue I neither had my due, nor taken bribe, and I know not the reason: for here they tell me, that the Gouernours that use to come to this island; before they come, they of the town either give or lend them a good sum of money: and this is the ordinary custom, not onely in this town, but in many others also▪  
Last night as I walked the Round, I met with a faire Maid in mans apparel; and a Brother of hers in womans: my carver fell in love with the Wench, and purposed to take her to Wife, as he says; and I haue chosen the Youth for my son in law: and to day both of us will put our desires in practise with the Father of them both, which is one Diego de la Lana, a Gentleman and an old Christian, as much as you would desire. I visit the Market places( as you advised me) and yesterday found a Huckster, that sold new Hazel Nuts, and it was proved against her, that she had mingled the new, with a bushel of old, that were rotten and without kernels; I judged them all to be given to the hospital boyes, that could very well distinguish them; and gave sentence on her, that shee should not come into the Market-place in fifteen dayes after: 'twas  told me, that I did most valourously; all I can tell you is, that it is the common report in this town, that there is no worse people in the world then these women of the Market-places: for all of them are impudent, shameless,& ungodly; and I beleeue it to be so, by those that I haue seen in other towns: That my lady the duchess hath written to my Wife Teresa Pansa, and sent her a token, as you say, it pleaseth me very well, and I will endeavour at fit time to show myself thankful: I pray do you kiss her hands on my behalf, and tell her, her kindness is not ill bestowed, as shall after appear.  
I would not that you should haue any thwart-reckonings of dis-taste with those Lords: for if you be displeased with them, 'tis plain it must needs redound to my damage, and 'twere unfit that, since you aduise me not to be unthankful, you should be so to them that haue shewed you so much kindness, and by whom you haue been so well welcomed in their Castle.  
That of your Cat-businesse, I understand not: but I suppose tis some of those ill feats, that the wicked Enchanters are wont to use toward you; I shall know of you, when we meet. I would fain haue sent you something from hence, but I know not what except it were some little Canes to make Squirts, which with Bladders too they make very curiously in this place: but if my Office last, Ile get something worth the sending.  
If my wife Teresa Pansa writ to me, pay the Portage, and sand me the Letter: for I haue a wonderful desire to know of the Estate of my house, my wife and children: and so God keep you from ill-minded Enchanters, and deliver me well and peaceably from this government; for I doubt it, and think to lay my bones here, according as the Doctor Pedro Rezio handles me.  
Your Worships Seruant, Sancho Pansa the governor.  
The secretary made up the Letter, and presently dispatched the Post; and so Sancho's Tormentors joining together, gave order how they might dispatch him from the government. And that afternoon Sancho passed, in setting down orders for the well-gouerning the island he imagined to be so: and he ordained there should bee no Hucksters for the Commonwealths provisions; and likewise that they might haue Wines brought in from whencesoeuer they would; onely with this proviso, to tell the place from whence they came, to put prices to them according to their value, and goodness: and whosoever put water to any wine, or changed the name of it, should die for it: he moderated the prices of all kind of clothing, especially of shoes, as thinking Leather was sold with much exorbitancy.  
He made a taxation for seruants wages, who went on unbridled for their profit.  
He set grievous penalties vpon such as should sing bawdy or ribaldry songs, either by night or day.  
He ordained likewise, that no blind-man should sing miracles in Verse, except they brought authentical testimonies of the truth of them: for he thought, that the most they sung, were false, and prejudicial to the true.  
He created also a Constable for the poor, not that should persecute, but examine them, to know if they were so: for under colour of feigned maimenesse, and false sores, the hands are Theeues, and health is a Drunkard.  
In conclusion, he ordered things so well, that to this day they are famed and kept in that place, and are called, The Ordinances of the Grand governor, Sancho Pansa.   

CHAP. LII.  
The adventure of the second Afflicted or straightened Matron, alias Donna Rodriguez.  
CID Hamete tells us, that Don Quixote being recovered of his scratches, he thought the life he lead in that Castle, was much against the order of Knighthood he professed: so he determined to crave leave of the Dukes to part towards Saragoza, whose entrusts drew near, where he thought to gain the armor that useth to bee obtained in them. And being one day at the Table with the Dukes, and beginning to put his intention in execution, and to ask leave: Behold, unlooked for, two women came in at the great Hall door, clad( as it after appeared) in mourning from head to foot: and one of them coming to Don Quixote, she fell down all along at his feet with her mouth sowed to them; and she groaned so sorrowfulfully, and so profoundly, that she put all that beholded her into a great confusion: and though the Dukes thought it was some trick their seruants would put vpon Don Quixote; notwithstanding, seeing with what earnestness the woman sighed, groaned and wept, they were a little doubtful and in suspense, till Don Quixote in great compassion raised her from the ground, and made her discover herself, and take her Mantle from her blubbered face. She did so, and appeared to be( what could not be imagined) Donna Rodriguez the Waiting-woman of the house: and the other in mourning was her wronged Daughter, abused by a rich Farmers son. All were in admiration that knew her, especially the Dukes: for though they knew her to be foolish, and of a good mould that way; yet not to bee so near mad.  
Finally, Donna Rodriguez turning to the Lords, she said, May it please your Excellencies, to give me leave to impart a thing to this Knight: for it behooves me to come out of a business, into which the boldness of a wicked rascal hath thrust me.  
The Duke said, he gave her leave, and that she should impart what she would to signor Don Quixote. She directing her voice and her gesture to Don Quixote, said, Some dayes since, valorous Knight, I related to you the wrong and treachery that a wicked Farmer hath done to my beloved Daughter, the unfortunate one here now present; and you promised me to undertake for her to right this wrong that hath been done her: and now it hath come to my notice, that you mean to part from this Castle, in quest of your adventures( God sand them) and therefore my request is, that before you scour the ways, you would defy this untamed rustic, and make him mary my Daughter, according to the promise he gave her before he coupled with her: For to think that my Lord the Duke will do me iustice, is to seek pears from the elm, for the reason that I haue plainly  told you; and so God give you much health, and forsake not vs.  
To these reasons, Don Quixote answered with great gravity and Prosopopeia:  
Good Matron, temper your tears, and save your sighs, and I will engage myself to right your Daughter; for whom it had been much better, not to haue been so easy of believing her Louers promises, which for the most part are light in making, but heavy in accomplishing: and therefore with my Lord the Dukes leave, I will presently part in search of this ungodly young man, and find and challenge him, and kill him, if he deny to accomplish his promise. For the chief aim of my profession is, to pardon the humble, and to chastise the proud; I mean, to succour the wretched, and to destroy the cruel.  
You need not( quoth the Duke) be at the pains of seeking the clown, of whom the good Matron complains; neither need you ask me leave to defy him, 'tis enough, that I know you haue done it; and let it be my charge to give him notice that he accept the challenge, and come to my Castle to answer for himself, where safe lists shall be set up for you both, observing the conditions that in such Acts ought to bee observed; and both your Iustices equally, according as Princes are obliged to do, that grant single combat to those that fight within their Dominions. Why, with this security and your Greatnesses licence( quoth Don Quixote) here I say that for this once I renounce my Gentry, and do equalize myself to the meanness of the Offender: and so qualify him to combat with me: and so though he be absent, I challenge and defy him, for that he did ill to defraud this poor creature that was a Maid, and now by his villainy is none, and that he shall either fulfil his word he gave her to mary her, or die in the demand.  
And strait plucking off his glove, he cast it into the midst of the Hall, and the Duke took it up, saying, That he( as had been said) in his Vassals name accepted the challenge, and appointed the prefixed time six dayes after, and the Lists to be in the Court of that Castle, and the usual arms of Knights, as Lance and Shield, and laced armor, with all other pieces, without deceit, advantage, or superstition, seen and allowed by the Iudges of the Lists: but first of all 'tis requisite, that this honest Matron, and this ill Maid commit the right of their cause into signor Don Quixote de la Mancha's hands: for otherwise there will be nothing done; neither will the said challenge be put in execution.  
I do( quoth the Matron) and I too( said the Daughter, all blubbered and shamefaced) and in ill taking.  
This agreement being made, and the Dukes imagining what was to be done in the business, the mourners went their ways, and the duchess commanded they should be used not as their seruants, but like Lady-Aduenturers, that came to their house to ask iustice, and served as strangers, to the wonderment of other seruants that knew not, what would become of the madness and levity of Donna Rodriguez, and her errand Daughter.  
Whilst they were in this business, to add more mirth to the Feast, and to end the Comedy: behold where the page. comes in, that carried the Letter and tokens to Teresa Pansa; whose arrival much pleased the Dukes, desirous to know what befell him in his voyage, and asking him, The page. answered, that he could not tell them in public, nor in few words; but that their Excellencies would bee pleased to reserve it for a private time, and that in the mean time, they would entertain themselves with those Letters; and taking them out, he gave two to the duchess, the superscription of the one was, to my Lady duchess, I know not whence: and the other, To my Husband Sancho Panso, governor of the island Barataria, whom God prosper longer then me.  
The duchess could not be quiet, till she had red her Letter; so opening it, and reading it to herself,& seeing that she might read it aloud, shee did so, that the Duke and the by-standers might hear it, as followeth.  
Teresa Pansa's Letter to the duchess.  
LAdy mine: Your Greatnesses Letter you wrote me, did much content me, for I did very much desire it: Your string of Corals was very good; and my Husbands hunting suite comes not short of it: That your Honour hath made my Consort governor, all this town rejoiceth at it, though there is none that will beleeue it: especially, the Vicar, Master Nicholas the Barber, and Samson Carasco the Bachelor: but all is one to me, so it bee true, as it is; let each one say what he will: but if you go to the truth, had it not been for the coral and the suit I should not haue believed it neither: for all in this town hold my Husband for a very soldier-like; and taking him from his governing a flock of Goats, they cannot imagine for what government else he should bee good: God make him so, and direct him as he sees best; for his children haue need of it. I, Lady of my life; am determined with your Worships good leave, to make use of this good fortune in my house; and to go to the Court to stretch myself in a Coach, to make a thousand envious persons blind that look after me. And therefore I request your excellency to command my Husband to sand me some stock of money to purpose, because I hear, the Court-expences are great, that a loaf is worth sixe-pence; and a pound of Mutton fiue-pence, that tis wonderful: and that if he mean not that, I shall go, he let me know in time: for my feet are dancing till I be iogging vpon the way; for my friends and neighbours tell me, that if I and my daughter go glistering and pompously in the Court, my Husband will be known by me more then I by him; for that of necessity, many will ask, What Gentlewomen are these in the Coach? Then a seruant of mine answers, The Wife and Daughter of Sancho Pansa, governor of the island Barataria; and by this means, Sancho shall be known, and I shall be esteemed, 
A Phrase used by her to no purpose, but tis a usual thing in Spain among ill livers to cry, a Rema per todo, there to get absolution for their villainies  and to Rome for all. I am as sorry, as sorrow may be, that this year we haue gathered no acorns, for all that I sand your Highnesse half a peck, which I culled out, and went to the mountain on purpose, and they were the biggest I could find. I could haue wished they had been as big as Eastritch eggs. Let not your Pomposity forget to writ to me, and Ile haue a care to answer and aduize you of my health, and all that passeth here where I remain; praying to God to preserve your greatness, and forget not me; my daughter Sancha and my son kiss your hands. She that desires more to see, then to writ to your Honour,  
Your Seruant, Teresa Pansa.  
Great was the content that all received to hear Teresa Pansa's Letter, principally of the Dukes; and the duchess asked Don Quixote's advice, if it were fit to open the Letter that came for the governor, which shee imagined was most exquisite. Don Quixote said, that to pleasure them, he would open it: which he did, and saw the Contents, which were these.  
Teresa Pansa's Letter, to her Husband Sancho.  
I received thy Letter, my Sancho of my soul, and I promise and swear to thee, as I am a catholic Christian, there wanted not two fingers breadth of making me mad for ioy; look you Brother, when I came to hear that thou art a governor, I thought I should haue fallen down dead with gladness; for thou knowest that 'tis usually said, That sudden ioy as soon kills as excessive grief. The water ran down thy daughter Sanchica's eyes, without perceiving of it, with pure content. The suite thou sentest me I had before me, and the Corals my Lady the duchess sent, and the Letters in my hands, and the bearer of them present, and for all this I believed and thought that all I saw or felt, was a dream: For who could think that a Goatheard should come to be a governor of islands?& thou knowest, friend, that my Mother was used to say, That twas needful to live long, to see much. This I say, because I think to see more, if I live longer; for I hope I shall not haue done, till I see thee a Farmer or Customer, which are Offices, that though the devill carry away him that dischargeth them badly, yet in the end good store of coin goes thorough their hands. My Lady the duchess will let thee know what a desire I haue to go to the Court, consider of it, and let me know thy mind: and I will do thee honor there, going in my Coach. The Vicar, Barber, Bachelor nor Sexton cannot believe that thou art a governor,& say that 'tis all juggling or Enchantment, as all thy Master Don Quixote's affairs are; and Samson says, he will find thee out, and put this government out of thy noddle, and Don Quixote's madness out of his coxcomb. I do nothing but laugh at them, and look vpon my coral chain, and contrive how to make my daughter a gown of the svit thou sentest me. I sent my Lady the duchess some acorns, I would they had been of gold: I prithee sand me a string of pearls, if they be used in that island.  
The news of this town is, that Berneca married her daughter to a scuruy Painter that came to this town to paint at random. The burghers of the town willed him to paint the Kings arms over the gate of the Towne-Hall; he demanded two Ducats, which they gave him before-hand: he wrought eight daies, in the end painted nothing, and said; he could not hit vpon painting such a deal of Pedlery ware: so he returned them their money, and for all this, he married under the name of a good workman: true it is, that he hath left his pencil, and taken the Spade, and goes to the field most Gentleman-like. Pedre de Lobo's son hath taken Orders, and shaved his head, with purpose to be a Priest. Mingim●sa Mingo Siluctos nere knew of it, and she hath put a bill against him for promising her marriage: malicious tongues will not stick to say, that she is great by him, but he d●… i●… ●t s●issely.  
This year we haue had no Oliues, neither is there a drop of vinegar to be had in all the town. A Company of Souldiers passed by here, and by the way they carried three wenches from this town with them, I will not tell thee who they are, for perhaps they will return, and there will not want some that will mary them for better for worse. Sanchica makes bone-lace,& gets her three-halfe pence a day clear, which she puts in a box with a slit, to help to buy her householdstuff: but now that she is a Gouernours daughter, thou wilt give her a portion, that she needs not work for it. The stone-fountain in the market-place is dried up, a Thunder-bolt fell vpon the Pillory, there may they fall all. I expect an answer of this, and thy resolution touching my going to the Court; and so God keep thee longer then me, or as long; for I would not leave thee in this world behind me.  
Thy Wife, Teresa Pansa.  
These Letters were extolled, laughed at, esteemed and admired: and to mend the matter, the Post came that brought one from Sancho to Don Quixote, which was likewise red aloud; which brought the Gouernours madness in question. The duchess retired with the page., to know what had befallen him in Sancho's town, who  told her at large, without omitting circumstance: he gave her the acorns, and a Cheese too which Teresa gave him for a very good one, much better then those of Tronion; the duchess received it with great content, in which we will leave her, to tell the end that the government of the Grand Sancho Pansa had, the flower and Mirror of all Ilandish Gouernours.   

CHAP. LIII.  
Of the troublesone end and upshot that Sancho Pansa's government had.  
TO think that the affairs of this life should last ever in one being, is needless; for it rather seems otherwise: the Summer follows the Spring, after the Summer, the Fall, and the Fall, the Winter, and so Time goes on in a continuated wheel. Onely mans life runs to a speedy end, swifter then Time, without hope of being renewed, except it be in another life, which hath no bounds to limit it.  
This said Cid Hamete, a Mahometicall Philosopher; for many without the light of Faith, onely with a natural instinct haue understood the swiftness and uncertainty of this life present, and the lasting of the eternal life which is expected. But here the Author speaks it, for the speediness with which Sancho's government was ended, consumed and undone, and vanished into a shade and smoke, who being a-bed the seventh night after so many daies of his government, not cloyed with bread or wine, but with judging and giuing sentences, making Proclamations and Statutes, when sleep, maugre and in despite of hunger, shut his eye-lids, he heard such a noise of bells and outcries, as if the whole island had been sunk: he sate up in his bed, and was very attentive, harkening if he could guess at the cause of so great an uproar, but he was so far from knowing it, that a noise of a world of Drums and Trumpets added to that of the bells and cries, made him more confused,& more full of fear and horror; and rising up, he put on a pair of slippers for the moistness of the ground, and without any nightgowne vpon him, or any thing like it, he went out at his chamber door, at such time as he saw at least twenty persons come running thorough the entries, with Torches in their hands lighted, and swords unsheathed, crying all out aloud; arm, arm, Sir governor, arm; for a world of enemies are entred the island, and we are undone, if your skill and valour help us not.  
With this fury, noise and vp-rore, they came where Sancho was, astonished& embeseld with what he heard& saw: and when they came to him, one of them said, arm yourself straight, Sir, if you mean not to be destroyed, and that all the island be lost.  
I arm myself( quoth Sancho?) Know I any thing what belongs to arms or Succours? twere better leave these things to my Master Don Quixote de la Mancha, he will dispatch and put them in safety in an instant; for I( sinner that I am) understand nothing of this quick service. Ha, Sir governor, said another, what faint-heartedness is this? arm yourself, for here wee bring you arms offensive and defensive. March to the Market-place, and be our Guide and captain, since you ought( being our governor) to be so. arm me on Gods Name( quoth Sancho.) And straight they brought him two shields, of which they had good store, and they clapped them vpon his shirt, without letting him take any other clothes; one they put before, and the other behind, and they drew out his arms at certain holes they had made, and bound him very well with cords, so that he was walled and boarded up strait like a spindle, not able to bend his knees, or to move a step. In his hands they put a Lance, on which he leant to keep himself up. When they had him thus, they bad him march, and guide them, and cheer them all; for that he being their lantern, North, and Morning star, their matters would be well ended. How should I( wretch that I am) march, quoth Sancho? for my knee-bones will notmooue, since these boards that are so sowed to my flesh, do hinder me: your onely way is to carry me in your arms, and to lay me a-thwart, or let me stand up at some postern, which I will make good, either with my Lance or my body. Fie, Sir, said another, 'tis more your fear then the boards that hinder your place; make an end for shane, and bestir yourself; for it is late, and the enemies increase, the cries are augmented, and the danger waxeth more and more. At whose persuasions& vitupery, the poor governor tried if he could move himself: so he fell to the ground, and had such a fall, that he thought he had broken himself to pieces; and now he lay like a Tortoise, shut in, and covered with his shell, or like a Flitch of Bacon clapped between two boards, or like a boat overturned vpon a flat; and for all his fall, those scoffers had no compassion at all on him, but rather putting out their Torches, they began to re-enforce their cries, and to reiterate their arm, arm, so fast running over poor Sancho, giuing him an infinite company of slashes vpon his Shields, that if he had not withdrawn himself, and shrunk his head up into them, the poor governor had been in woeful plight; who being thus shrugged up in this straight, he was in a terrible sweat and beraied, and recommended himself hearty to God Almighty to deliver him from that danger. Some stumbled vpon him, others fell, and another would get vpon him for a good while, and from thence, as from a watch tower, governed the Army, and cried aloud, here on our side, here the enemies are thickest: make this breach good, keep that gate shut, down with those ladders, wildfire balls, pitch and Rosin, and kettles of scalding oil: Trench the streets with beds; In fine, he name all manner of ware, instruments, and furniture of war for the defence of a City assaulted: and the bruised Sancho, that heard and suffered all, said to himself; Oh that it would please the Lord that this island were once lost, or that I were dead or delivered from this straight! heaven heard his petition, and when he least expected, he heard this cry, Victory, Victory, the foes are vanquished. Ho, Sir governor, rise, rise, enjoy the conquest, and divide the spoils that are taken from the enemies, by the valour of your invincible arm.  
Raise me, quoth the grieved Sancho, with a pitiful voice. They helped to raise him, and being up, he said; every enemy that I haue vanquished, nail him in my forehead: Ile divide no spoils of enemies, but desire some friend, if I haue any, to give me a draft of wine, that may dry up this sweat, for I am all water. They wiped him, brought him wine, and unbound the Shields from him: he sate vpon his bed, and with the very anguish of the sudden fright, and his toil, he fell into a swoon; and they that played that trick with him, were sorry it fell out so heavily: but Sancho's coming strait to himself, tempered their sorrow.  
He asked them what a clock it was? They answered him, it grew to be day.  
he held his peace, and without more words, began to cloath himself, all butted in silence, and all beholded him, expecting what would bee the issue of his hasty dressing himself.  
Thus by little and little, he made himself ready, for by reason of his weariness he could not do it very fast, and so went toward the stable( all they that were there following him) and coming to Dapple, he embraced and gave him a loving kiss on the forehead, and not without tears in his eyes, said:  
Come thou hither, companion mine and friend, fellow-partner of my labours and miseries; when I consorted with you, no other cares troubled me, then to mend thy furniture, and to sustain thy little corps: happy then were my houres, dayes, and yeeres: but since I left thee, and mounted on the towers of ambition and pride, a thousand miseries, a thousand toils, four thousand vnquietnesses haue entred my soul. And as he was thus discoursing, he fitted on the pack-saddle, no body saying ought unto him. Dapple being thus pack-saddled, with much ado he got vpon him, and directing his speeches and reasons to the Steward, the Doctor and many others there present, he said,  
give me room, sirs,& leave to return to my former liberty; let me seek my ancient life, to rise from this present death: I was not born to be a governor, nor to defend islands nor Cities from enemies that would assault them: I can tell better how to plow, to dig, to prune, and plant Vineyards, then to give laws, or defend provinces& kingdoms; tis good sleeping in a whole skin: I mean, tis fit that every man should exercise the Calling to which he was born: a Sickle is better in my hand, then a Gouernours sceptre. I had rather fill myself with a good dish of Gaspachos, then be subject to the misery of an impertinent Physician, that would kill me with hunger: I had rather solace myself under the shade of an oak in Summer, and cover myself with a double sheepe-skinne in Winter quietly, then lay me down to the subiection of a government in fine Holland sheets, and be clothed in Sables: fare you well Sir, and tel my Lord the Duke, Naked was I born, naked I am, I neither win nor lose: I mean, I came without cross to this government, and I go from it without a cross, contrary to what Gouernours of other islands are used to do. Stand out of the way, and let me go, for I must seare-cloth myself; for I beleeue all my ribs are bruised, I thank the enemy that trampled over me all this night.  
You shall not do so, Sir governor, quoth Doctor Rezio, for I will give you a drink good against falls and bruises, that shall strait recover you: and touching your diet, I promise you to make amends, and you shall eat plentifully of what you list. Tis too late( quoth Sancho) Ile as soon tarry as turn turk: these jests are not good the second time: you shall as soon get me to stay here, or admit of any other government,( though it were presented in two platters to me) as make me fly to heaven without wings. I am of the lineage of the Pansa's, and we are all head-strong, and if once wee cry odd, odd it must be( though it be even) in spite of all the world. here in this stable let my Ants wings remain that lifted me up in the air, to be devoured by Martlets and other birds, and now let's go a plain place on the ground: and though wee wear no pinked Spanish-leather shoes, yet we shall not want course pack-thread Sandals. Like to like, quoth the devill to the Collier, and let every man cut his measure according to his cloth, and so let me go, for it is late.  
To which qd. the Steward, With a very good will you should go, though we shall be very sorry to lose you: for your iudgement and Christian proceeding oblige us to desire your company: but you know, that all Gouernours are obliged, before they depart from the place which they haue governed, to render first an account of their place, which you ought to do for the ten daies you haue governed; and so Gods peace be with you.  
No man can ask any account of me, said he, but he whom my Lord the Duke will appoint; to him I go, and to him Ile give a fitting account: besides, I going from hence so bare as I do, there can be no greater sign that I haue governed like an angel.  
I protest( quoth Doctor Rezio) the Grand Sancho hath a great deal of reason, and I am of opinion that we let him go; for the Duke will be infinitely glad to see him. So all agreed, and let him go, offering first to accompany him, and whatsoever he had need of for himself, or for the commodiousness of his Voyage.  
Sancho  told them, he desired nothing but a little barley for Dapple, and half a Cheese and a loaf for himself; for that by reason of the shortness of the way, he needed no other provision. All of them embraced him, and he with tears embraced them, and left them astonished, as well at his discourse, as his most resolute and discreet determination.   

CHAP. LIV.  
That treats of matters concerning this History, and no other.  
THe Duke& duchess were resolved that Don Quixote's Challenge that he made against their vassal for the aforesaid cause, should go forward;& though the young man were in Flanders, whither he fled because he would not haue Donna Rodriguez to his Mother in Law, yet they purposed to put a gascon Lackey in his stead, which was called Tosilos, instructing him first very well in all that he had to do.  
Some two daies after, the Duke said to Don Quixote, that within four daies his contrary would be present, and present himself in the field like an armed Knight, and maintain that the damosel lied in her throat, if she affirmed that he had promised her marriage. Don Quixote was much pleased with this news, and promised to himself to work miracles in this business, and he held it to be a special happiness to him, that occasion was offered, wherein those Nobles might see how far the valor of his powerful arm extended: and so with great iocundnesse and content, he expected the four daies, which in the reckoning of his desire, seemed to him to bee four hundred Ages. Let we them pass( as we let pass diuers other matters) and come to the Grand Sancho, to accompany him, who betwixt mirth and mourning, vpon Dapple went to seek out his Master, whose company pleased him more then to be governor of all the islands in the world.  
It fell out so, that he having not gone very far from the island of his government( for he never stood to aver whether it were island, City, Village, or town which he governed) he saw that by the way he went, there came six pilgrims with their walking staues, your strangers that use to beg alms singing, who when they came near, beset him round, and raising their voices all together, began to sing in their language, what Sancho could not understand, except it were one word, which plainly signified alms, which he perceived they begged in their song. And he( as saith Cid Hamete) being very charitable, took half a loaf, and half a Cheese out of his wallet, of which he was provided,& gave it them, telling them by signs he had nothing else to give them: they received it very willingly, and said, Guelte, Guelte. I understand you not what you would haue( good people) quoth Sancho. Then one of them took a purse out of his bosom, and shewed it to Sancho, whereby he understood they asked him for money; but he putting his thumb to his throat, and his hand upward, gave them to understand he had not a Denier; and spurring Dapple, he broken thorough them: and passing by, one of them looking wishly vpon him, laid hold on him, and casting his arms about his middle, with a loud voice, and very good Spanish, said, God defend me, and what do I see? is it possible I haue my dear friend in my arms, my honest neighbour Sancho Pansa? Yes sure I haue, for I neither sleep, nor am drunk.  
Sancho wondered to hear himself so called by his name, and to see himself embraced by a Pilgrime-stranger: and after he had beholded him a good while, without speaking a word, and with much attention, yet he could never call him to mind: but the pilgrim seeing his suspension, said,  
How now, is it possible, Brother Sancho Pansa, thou knowest not thy neighbour Ricote the Morisco Grocer of thy town? Then Sancho beholded him more earnestly, and began to remember his favour, and finally knew him perfectly: and so without alighting from his ass, he cast his arms about his neck, and said, Who the divell, Ricote, could know thee, in this vizardly disguise? What's the matter? who hath made such a 
A word of disgrace the Spaniard useth to all strangers, but chiefly to the French.  Franchote of thee? and how darest thou return back again into spain? where, if thou be'st catched or known, woe bee to thee? If thou reveal me not, Sancho, I am safe, quoth the Pilgrim: for in this disguise no body will know me: Come let's go out of the high-way, into yonder elm grove, for there my companions mean to dine, and repose themselves, and thou shalt eat with them, for they are very good people, and there I shall haue leisure to tell thee what hath befallen me, since I departed from our town, to obey his majesties Edict, which so rigorously threatened those unfortunate ones of our Nation, as thou heard'st.  
Sancho consented, and Ricote speaking to the rest of the Pilgrims, they went to the elm grove that appeared: a pretty way distant from the High-way, they flung down their Staues, and cast off their Pilgrims weeds, and so remained in Hose and Doublet: and all of them were young, and handsome fellowes, except Ricote, who was well entred in yeeres: all of them had Wallets, which were( all to see to) well provided at least with incitatiues that provoked to drink two miles off.  
They sate vpon the ground, and making tablecloths of the grass; they set vpon it, Bread, Salt, knives, Wal-nuts, slices of Cheese, and clean Gammon of Bacon-bones: which though they would not let themselves be gnawed, yet they forbade not to be sucked.  
They set down likewise a kind of black meat, called Cauiary, made of Fishes eggs; a great Alarum to the bottle, there wanted no Oliues, though they were dry without any Pickle; yet savoury, and made up a dish: but that which most flourished in the field of that banquet was; six bottles of Wine, which each of them drew out of his Wallets; even honest Ricote too, who had transformed himself from a Morisco into a german, or Dutch-man; he drew out his, that for quantity might compare with the whole five.  
Thus they began to eat with great content; and very leisurely, relishing every bit which they took vpon a knives point, and very little of every thing: and strait all of them together would lift their arms and bottles up into the air, putting their own mouths to the Bottles mouths, their eyes nailed in heaven, as if they had shot at it: and in this fashion moving their heads from one side to the other, signs of their good liking of the Wine, they remained a good while, straining the entrails of the Vessels in their stomacks.  
Sancho marked all, and was grieved at nothing; rather to fulfil the proverb, that he very well knew, 
Cum fueris Romae,& e.  When thou goest to Rome, &c. he desired the Bottle of Ricote, and so took his aim as well as the rest, and with no less delight then they: thus the Bottles suffered themselves to be hoisted on end four times: but it was not possible the fift; for they were now as soaked and dry as a Matteresse, which made their ioy hitherto shown, now very muddy: now and then one of them would take Sancho by the right hand, and say, Spaniard& Dutchman all one, bon compaguo. And Sancho answered: Bon compagno, 
swears in a broken language.  juro a di: and with that dischargeth such a laughter as lasted a long hour; not remembering as then ought that had befallen him in his government; for cares are wont to haue little jurisdiction vpon leisure and idleness, whilst men are eating and drinking.  
Finally, the ending of their Wine, was the beginning of a drowsiness that seyzed vpon them all, so they even fell to sleep where they set; only Ricote and Sancho watched it out, for they had eaten more, and drunk less: So Ricote taking Sancho apart, they sate at the foot of a Beech, leaving the Pilgrims butted in sweet sleep, and Ricote without stumbling a jot into his Moriso tongue, in pure castilian language, uttered to him this ensuing Discourse.  
Thou well knowest, O Sancho Pansa, friend and neighbour mine, how the Proclamation and Edict that his majesty commanded to be published against those of my Nation, put us all into a fear and fright, at least me it did: and me thought, that before the time that was limited us for our departure from spain; the very rigour of the penalty was executed vpon me, and my children.  
I provided therefore( in my iudgement wisely) as he which knows that by such a time the house he lives in shall bee taken from him, and so provides himself another against he is to change: I provided, I say, to leave our town, all alone without my Family, and to seek some place whither I might commodiously carry them, and not in such a hurry as the rest that went. For I well saw, and so did all our graver sort, that those Proclamations were not onely threats, as some said: but true laws to be put in execution at their due time: and I was enforced to be leeue this truth; because I knew the villainous, but foolish attempts of our Nation: such, as me thought, it was a divine inspiration that moved his majesty, to put so brave a resolution in effect: not because wee were all faulty; for some there were firm and true Christians: but they were so few, they could not be opposed to those that were otherwise: and it was not fit to nourish a Serpent in his bosom, and to haue enemies within doors.  
Finally, we were justly punished with the penalty of Banishment, which seemed to some soft and sweet; but to us the terriblest that could be inflicted: wheresoever wee are, we weep to think on spain: for indeed here we were born, and it is our natural country; wee no where find the entertainment that our misfortune desires, and in Barbary, and all parts of Africa, where we thought to haue been received, entertained, and cherished; there it is where wee are most offended, and misused: we knew not our happiness till we lost it, and the desire we all haue to return to spain is so great, that the most part of such( which are many) who speak the language, as I do, return hither again, and leave their wives and Children there forsaken: so great is the love they bear their country, and now I know and find by experience that the saying is true, Sweet is the love of ones country.  
I went( as I say) out of our town, and came into France, and though there we were well entertained, yet I would see it all; and so passed into Italy, and arrived in Germany; and there I found we might live with more freedom; for the inhabitants do not look much into niceties, every one lives as he pleaseth: for in the greatest part of it, there is liberty of conscience.  
There I took a house in a town near Augusta, and so joined with these Pilgrims, that usually come for spain; many of them every year to visit the Deuotions here, which are their Indies, and certain gain, they travell all the kingdom over; and there is no town from whence they go not away with meat and drink( as you would say) at least& six pence in money: and when they haue ended their Voyage, they go away with a hundreth Crownes overplus, which changed into Gold; either in the hollowes of their Staues, or the patches of their Weeds, or by some other slight they can, they carry out of the kingdom, and pass into other Countreys, in spite of the Searchers of the dry Ports, where the money ought to be registered. And now, Sancho, my purpose is to carry away the Treasure that I left butted; for because it is without the Town, I may do it without danger, and writ from Valencia, to my Wife and Daughter that I know are in algiers, and contrive how I may bring them to some Port of France, and from thence carry them into Germany, where we will expect how God will please to dispose of us: for indeed, Sancho, I know certainly, that Ricota my Daughter, and Francisca Ricota my Wife are catholic Christians: and though I bee not altogether so, yet I am more Christian then Moore; and my desire to God always is, to open the eyes of my understanding, and to let me know how I may serve him.  
And all I admire, is, that my Wife and Daughter should rather go into Barbarie, then into France, where they might haue lived as Christians.  
To which Sancho said, Look you, Ricote, perhaps they could not do withall: for John Tyopeio your wives Brother carried them: and he( belike) as he was a rank Moore, would go where he thought best, and I can tell you more, I think tis in vain for you to seek what you left hidden: for we had news that your Brother in law& your Wife had many Pearls taken from them, and a great deal of gold which was not registered.  
That may very well be, Sancho, quoth Ricote: but I know they touched not my treasure. For I would not tell them where it was hidden, as fearing some mis-hap; and therefore if thou wilt come with me, Sancho, and help me to take it out and conceal it, Ile give thee two hundreth Crownes to the relief of thy necessities, for thou knowest, I know thou hast many.  
Were I covetous( quoth Sancho) I would yield to this; and were I so, this morning I left an Office, which had I kept, I might haue made my house walls of gold, and within one six moneths haue eaten in silver dishes: so that partly for this, and partly not to bee a traitor to my King, in favouring his enemies, I will not go with thee, though thou wouldst give me four hundreth Crownes  
And what Office was that thou leftest Sancho, quoth Ricote?  
I left to be governor of an island( quoth Sancho) and such a one, that i'faith in three Bow-shootes again you shall scarce meet with such another.  
And where is this island, said he? Where, quoth Sancho? Why, two Leagues off, and it is called the island Barataria.  
Peace, Sancho, quoth Ricote: for your islands are out in the Sea, you haue no islands in the Terra Firma.  
No, quoth Sancho? I tell you, friend, Ricote, this morning I left it; and yesterday I governed in it at my pleasure like a Sagittarius: but yet I left it, as thinking the Gouernours Office to be dangerous.  
And what haue you gotten by it, quoth Ricote? I haue gotten( said he) this experience, that I am not fit to govern ought but a Herd of cattle, and that in those kind of governments there is no wealth gotten, but with labour, toil, loss of sleep and sustenance: for in your islands your Gouernours fare very ill; especially if they haue physicians that look to their health.  
I understand thee not, Sancho, quoth Ricote: but me thinks thou talkest without sense: for who would give thee islands to govern? want there in the world more able men then thou to be Gouernours? Peace, Sancho, and return to thy wits, and see if thou wilt go with me, as I haue said, and help me take out the Treasure that I haue hidden, for it may very well bee called a Treasure; and I will give thee sufficient to maintain thee.  
I haue  told thee, Ricote, quoth Sancho, that I will not: let it suffice, I will not discover thee, and go on thy way, on Gods name, and leave me to mine: for I know that what is well gotten, is lost; but what is ill gotten, it and the Owner too.  
I will not be too earnest with thee, said he: but tell me, wast thou in our town, when my Wife, my Daughter, and my Brother in law departed? mary was I( quoth Sancho) and I can tell you, your Daughter shewed so beautiful, that all the town went out to see her: and every one said shee was the fairest creature in the world: shee went weeping, and embraced all her friends and acquaintances, and as many as came to see her, and entreated all to recommend her to God, and this so feelingly, that shee made me weep, that am no Bel-weather: and i'faith many had a good mind to haue concealed her, and to take her away vpon the way: but fear of resisting the Kings commandement, made them abstain: he that shewed himself most enamoured, was Don Pedro Gregorio, that Youth, the rich heir that you know very well; he, they say, loved her very much, and since she went, was never seen more in our town, and we all thought, he followed to steal her away: but hitherto there is nothing known.  
I always suspected( quoth Ricote) that this Gentleman loved my Daughter: but being confident in Ricota's worth, it never troubled me, to know that he loved her well: for I am sure, Sancho, thou hast heard say, that Morisca women seldom or never for love married with old Christians: and so my Daughter, who, as I beleeue, rather tended her souls health then to bee enamoured, cared little for this rich heires soliciting.  
God grant it, quoth Sancho: for it would be very ill for them both: and now, Ricote, let me go from hence, for I mean this night to see my Master Don Quixote.  
God be with thee, Brother Sancho: for now my companions are stirring and it is time to be on our way: and strait both of them took leave; and Sancho gate vpon Dapple, and Ricote leant on his Pilgrims staff; and so both departed.   

CHAP. LV.  
Of matters that befell Sancho by the way, and others the best in the world.  
SAncho's long stay with Ricote was the cause that he reached not that day to the Dukes Castle, though he came within half a League of it, where the night took him, somewhat dark and close: but being Summer time, it troubled him not much, and therefore he went out of the way, purposing to rest till the morning: but as ill lucke would haue it, seeking a place, where he might best accommodate himself, he and Dapple fell into a most dark and deep pit, which was amongst certain ruinous buildings; and as he was falling, he recommended himself with al his heart to God, thinking he should not stop till he came to Hell, but it fell out otherwise: for within a little more then three fathoms length, Dapple felt ground, and he sate still vpon him without any hurt or damage received.  
He felt all his body over, and held in his breath, to see if he were sound, or pierced any where: but seeing himself well and whole, and in catholic health, he thought he could never praise God sufficiently for the favour he had done him: for he thought verily he had been beaten into a thousand pieces he went likewise, groping with his hands about the walls of the pit to see if it were possible to get out without help, but he found them all smooth, without any place to lay hold on, which grieved him very much, especially when he heard Dapple cry out tenderly and dolefully, and no marvell: for it was not for wantonnes, he saw himself in a pitiful taking.  
Alas, quoth Sancho then, and what sudden and unthought of accidents befall men that live in this miserable world? who would haue supposed, that he, who yesterday saw himself inthronized governor of an island, commanding seruants and Vassals, should to day bee butted in a Pit, without any bodies help, without Seruant or vassal coming to succour him?  
here I and my ass are like to perish with hunger, if so bee that first wee die not; he with his bruise, and I with grief and anguish: at least I shall not bee so happy, as my Master Don Quixote was, when he descended and went down into that enchanted cave of Montesino's, where he found better welcome then if he had been at his own house; and it seemed he found the cloth ready laid, and his bed made: there saw he goodly and pleasant Visions; and here( I beleeue) I shall see nothing but Toads and Snakes: unfortunate that I am, what is my madness and folly come too? My bones will bee fetched out from hence( when it shall please heaven that I am found) white and smooth, the flesh picked off, and my trusty Dapples with them: whereupon peradventure it shall bee known who we are, at least by those that shall take notice, that Sancho and the ass never partend, nor the ass from Sancho. again, I say, unhappy wee! our ill fortune would not, that wee should die in our country, and amongst our friends, where though our mis-fortune had found no redress; yet we should not haue wanted pity, and at last gasp we should haue had our eyes closed. Oh Companion mine and friend, how ill haue I rewarded thy honest service? Pardon me: and desire Fortune in the best manner thou canst, to deliver us from this miserable toil in which we are both put: and I here promise to set a crown of laurel on thy head, that thou shalt look like a Poet Lawreat, and I will double thy Prouender-allowance.  
Thus Sancho lamented, and his ass harkened to him, without answering a word; such was the straight and anguish in which the poor Scab found himself.  
Finally, having passed over the whole night in complaints and lamentations, the day came on, with whose clearness and splendour, Sancho saw that there was no maner of possibility to get out of that Well, without help, and he began to lament& make a noise to see if any body heard him: but all his crying out was as in a desert: for in all the country round about, there was none to harken to him; and then Dapple lay with his mouth open, and Sancho thought he had been dead: yet he so handled the matter, that he set him vpon his legs, and taking a piece of bread out of his Wallets( which had run the same fortune with them) he gave it his ass, which came not amiss to him; and Sancho said to him, as if he had understood it, sorrows great are lessened with meate.  
By this he discovered on the one side of the Pit a great hole, whereat a man might pass thorough, crooking and stooping a little. Sancho drew to it, and squatting down, entred in, and saw that within it, was large and spacious, and he might well discern it: for by a place that you might call the roof, the Sun-beame entered in, that discovered it all: he saw likewise that it was enlarged by another spacious concavity: which when he saw, he turned back again to his ass, and with a ston began to pull down the earth of the Hole, and in a little while made way for his ass to go out, which he did, and Sancho leading him by the Halter, went forward along the cave, to see if he could find any egress on the other side; sometimes he went darke-long and without light: but never without fear. Lord God, said he, this, that to me is a misfortune, were to my Master Don Quixote a famous adventure: he would think these profundities and Dungeons, were flowery Gardens, and Galiana's Palaces, and he would hope to get out of this straightness and darkness into some flowery field: but I unfortunate, ill-aduised, and faint-hearted, think that every moment I shall fall into a deeper profundity then this former, that will swallow me downright: Tis a good ill that comes alone. In this manner, and in this imagination he thought he had gone somewhat more then half a League; and at last he discovered a kind of twilight, as if it had been day,& came in at some open place, which, seemed to open an entrance to another world.  
here Cid Hamete Benengeli leaves him, and turns again to treat of Don Quixote, who, jocund and contented, expected the prefixed time, for the combat he was to perform with the dishonourer of Donna Rodriguez Daughter, and thought to rectify the wrong and uncouth turn shee had done her.  
It fell out then, that going out one morning to exercise and practise against the trance in which ere long he was to see himself; fetching up Rosinante with a full Carrere, he came close to a Caues mouth; that had he not reined him in hard, it had been impossible but he must haue fallen into it.  
Well, he stopped him, and fell not in: and coming somewhat nearer, without alighting, looked into that depth, and beholding of it, heard a great noise within, and harkening attentively, he might perceive and understand, that he that made it, cried out, Ho, above there, is there any Christian that hears me? or any charitable Gentleman that will take pity of a sinner butted alive? of an unhappy vngouern'd governor?  
Don Quixote thought he heard Sancho Pansa's voice, at which he was in suspense& affrighted: but raising his voice as high as he could, he said, Who is below there? who is that cries out? Who should be here? or who should cry out, they answered, but the weather-beaten Sancho Pansa governor with a Pox to him, for his ill errantrie of the island Barataria, Squire sometime to the famous Knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha?  
When Don Quixote heard this, his admiration was doubled, and his astonishment increased, as thinking Sancho Pansa might be dead, and that his soul was there doing penance: and carried with this imagination, he said, I conjure thee by all I may, as I am a catholic Christian, that thou tell me who thou art: and if thou beest a soul in penalty, tell me what thou wilt haue me do for thee: for since my profession is to succour and help the needy of this world, it shall always bee so to help and aid the needy in another world, that cannot help themselves.  
Then said they below, Belike, you that speak to me are my Master Don Quixote de la Mancha, and by the Organ of your voice can be no other.  
Don Quixote I am, quoth he, that both aid the living and dead in their necessities. Therefore tell me who thou art; for thou amazest me: for if thou be Sancho Pansa my Squire, and that being dead, the devil haue not seyzed on thee, and by Gods mercy thou be in Purgatory, our holy Mother the catholic roman Church hath sufficient suffrages, to deliver thee from the pain thou endurest, and I with my wealth will solicit all that I can: and therefore make an end, and tell me who thou art.  
Gods me, by whose birth so ever you will, signor Don Quixote: I swear I am your Squire Sancho Pansa, and I never dyed in all my life; but that having left my government for matters and causes that must be  told more at leisure; ouer-night I fell into this Pit, where I lie and Dapple too, who will prove me to be no liar: for he is here with me: Will you any more? And it seemed, the ass understood what Sancho said: for at the instant, he began to bray so loud, that all the cave resounded.  
A famous witness, quoth Don Quixote, I know this Bray, as if I had brought it forth, and I hear thy voice, my Sancho: Stay, and Ile go to the Dukes Castle that is here hard by: and I will get some to help thee out of this Pit, into which thy sins haue cast thee.  
go, Sir( quoth Sancho) for Gods love, and return quickly: for I can no longer endure to be butted here alive, and I die for fear. Don Quixote left him, and went to the Castle to let the Dukes know Sancho's mis-hap: at which they marveled not a little, though they knew well enough how he might fall in for the knowledge they had, time out of mind of that Vault: but they could not imagine how he had left his government, they knowing nothing of his coming. Finally, they caused Ropes and Cables to be sent,& with much cost and labour of people, Sancho and Dapple were drawn out of that dismalnesse to the suins light. A scholar saw him, and said, Thus should all bad governors come out of their governments, as this sinner doth out of this profound Abisme, pale dead for hunger, and( as I beleeue) without a cross to bless him with.  
Sancho heard him, and said, 'tis eight or ten dayes, Goodman Murmurer, since I began to govern the island; in all which I never eat bread that kept me from hunger one hour; in al that time Physicians haue persecuted me, and enemies haue bruised my bones: neither haue I had leisure to take bribes, or to recover my due; which being so, I deserved not( in my opinion) to come out in this manner: but man purposeth, and God disposeth: and God best knows what each man needeth: and let every man fit himself to the times, and no man say, Ile drink no more of such a drink: for where we think to fare well, there is oft ill usage. God Almighty knows my mind, 'tis enough, and I say no more, though I could. Be not angry, Sancho, nor vexed with what thou hearest, for so thou shalt never be in quiet: come with a good conscience, let vm say what they will; for to bridle malicious tongues, is as much as to set gates in the High-way.  
If a governor come rich from his government, they say he hath played the thief: and if poor, that he hath been a weak unable coxcomb.  
I warrant you( quoth Sancho) this 'bout, they shall rather hold me to be a coxcomb then a thief. With this discourse they went toward the Castle hemmed in with many boyes, and other people; where the Duke and duchess were in certain running Galleries, expecting Don Quixote and Sancho: who, before he would go up to see the Duke, would first accommodate Dapple in the Stable: for he said he had had a marvelous ill night on't at their lodging; and so strait he went up to see his Lords, before whom vpon his knees, he said; I, my Lords, because your Greatnesses would needs haue it so, without any desert of mine, went to govern your island Barataria; into which, naked I entred, and naked come I out, I neither win nor lose, whether I governed well or ill, here be witnesses present to say what they please: I haue resolved Doubts; sentenced Causes, and haue been ready to be starved; because Master Doctor Pedro Rezio, born at Tirtea fuera, would haue it so, that island and Gouernourish Physician; enemies set vpon us by night: and having put us in great danger, they of the island say that they were freed, and got the victory, by the valour of my arm; such health God sand them, as they tell truth herein.  
In fine, I haue summed up all the burdens and the cares that this governing brings with it, and find by my account, that my shoulders cannot bear them; neither are they a weight for my ribs, nor arrows for my quiver: and therefore, lest I should be cast away in my government, I haue cast it away, and since yesterday morning I left the island as I found it, with the same streets, houses, and roofs that it had when I came into it.  
I haue borrowed nothing of no body, nor hoardward up any thing: and though I thought to haue made some profitable Ordinances, yet I did not, as fearing they would not be kept, which is as much as if they had never been made.  
I left the island( as I say) without any bodies accompanying me, but Dapple: I fell into a Pit, went forward in it, until this morning by the suins light I got out: but not so easily; for if heaven had not provided me my Master Don Quixote, there I had stuck till the end of the world.  
So that my Lords, Duke and duchess, here is Sancho Pansa your governor, that hath onely learnt to know in these ten daies that he hath governed, that he cares not for governing, not an island, nay were it the whole world: this presupposed, kissing your Honours hands, imitating 
Like our truss or fail.  boyes play, that cry, leap thou, and then let me leap: So I leap from the government, and pass again to my Master Don Quixotes service: for in fine, though with him I eat my victuals sometimes in fear, yet I haue my belly full; and so that be, all's one to me, that it be with carrots, or with Partridge. With this, Sancho ended his tedious discourse: Don Quixote fearing always that he would blunder out a thousand fopperies: but seeing him end with so few, he thanked heaven in his heart: and the Duke embraced Sancho, and said, He was sorry in his soul that he left the government so quickly: but that he would cause some Office of less trouble, and more profit in his estate to be given him: the duchess likewise embraced him, and commanded he should bee made much of, for he seemed to be much wearied, and to be worse entreated.   

CHAP. LVI.  
Of the unmerciful and never seen battle that passed betwixt Don Quixote and the Lackey Tosilos, in defence of the Matron Donna Rodriguez Daughter.  
THe Dukes repented them not of the iest that was put vpon Sancho in the government which they gave him; especially, because that very day their Steward came, and  told them very punctually all the words and actions, that Sancho both did and said in that time: and finally, so described the assault of the island, and so set out Sancho's fear, and his sally, that they received no small delight.  
After this, the History tells us, that the day of the prefixed battle came, and the Duke having oft instructed his Lackey Tosilos how he should behave himself with Don Quixote to overcome him, without killing or wounding him: he gave order that their Pikes should bee taken from their launces, telling Don Quixote, that christianity( which he preferred) permitted not, that that battle should be with so much hazard and danger of their lives: and that it was enough that he granted him free Lists in his country, though it were against the Decree of the holy council, that prohibits such challenges; yet he would not put that matter so strictly in execution.  
Don Quixote bade his Excellency dispose of that business as he pleased, and that he would obey him in all.  
The fearful day being come, the Duke commanded that there should be a spacious Scaffold set up in the place where the Iudges of the Lists might stand; and the Matron& her daughter the plaintiffs.  
There repaired a world of people, from all the towns, and neighbouring Villages, to see the novelty of that battle, who never saw, nor ever heard tell of the like in that country; neither the living, nor those that were dead. The first that entred the field and Lists, was, the Master of the Ceremonies, who measured out the ground, and passed all over it, that there might be no deceit, nor any hidden thing to make them stumble or fall: by and by the women entred, and sate down in their seats, with their mantles over their eyes and breasts, with shows of no small resenting, Don Quixote present in the Lists.  
A while after, the Grand Lackey Tosilos, appeared on one side of the large place, accompanied with many Trumpets, and vpon a lusty Courser, sinking the very ground under him: his Visor was drawn, and he was all arrayed in strong and shining armour, his horse was Frizeland, well spread, of colour flea-bitten, each fet-locke having nine and twenty pound of wool vpon it. The valiant Combatant came, well instructed by his Master, how he should demean himself with the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha, aduertized that he should by no means kill him, but that he should strive to shun the first encounter, to excuse the danger of his death which was certain, if he met him full butte. He paced over the place, and coming where the Matron was, he stayed a while to behold her that demanded him for her husband. The Master of the Lists called Don Quixote, that had now presented himself in the place,& together with Tosilos: he spoken to the women, asking them, if they agreed that Don Quixote de la Mancha should undertake their cause. They said, I, and that they allowed of all he should in that case perform, for firm and available.  
By this the Duke and duchess were set in a Gallery, which looked just to the Lists, all which was covered with abundance of people, that expected to see the rigorous trance never seen.  
The conditions of the Combatant was, That if Don Quixote overcame his Contrary, he should mary with Donna Rodriguez daughter; and that if he were overcome, his Contendor was freed from his promise given, and not tied to any satisfaction. The Master of the Ceremonies divided the sun between them, and set each of them in their places. The Drums strooke up, and the sound of Trumpets filled the air, the earth shooke under them, and the hearts of the spectator troope, were in suspense, some fearing, others expecting the good or ill success of this matter.  
Finally, Don Quixote recommending himself hearty to God and his mistress Dulcinea deal Toboso, stood looking when the precise sign of the encounter should be given: but our Lackey was in another mind, he thought vpon what now I will tell you. It seems, that as he stood looking vpon his enemy, she seemed to him to be the fairest woman in the world, and the little blind boy, whom up and down the streets folk call love, would not lose the occasion offered, to triumph vpon a Lackey an soul, and to put it in the list of his Trophies: and so coming to him, faire and softly, without any body perceiving him, he clapped a flight two yards long into his left side, and strooke his heart thorough and thorough, and he might safely do it; for love is invisible, and goes in and out where he list, no body asking him any account of his actions. Let me tell you then, that when the sign of the on-set was given, our Lackey was transported, thinking on the beauty of her that he had made mistress of his liberty, and so he took no notice of the Trumpets sound, as did Don Quixote, who scarce heard it, when he set spurs, and with as full speed as Rosinante would permit, went against his enemy,& his good Squire Sancho Pansa, seeing him depart, cried out aloud, God guide thee, cream and Flower of Knights errand, God give thee the victory, seeing thou hast right on thy side: and though Tosilos saw Don Quixote come toward him, yet he moved not a whit from his place, but rather aloud called the Master of the Lists, who coming to see what he would haue, Tosilos said,  
Sir, doth not this battle consist in my marrying, or not marrying with that Gentlewoman? Yes, it was answered him. Well then( quoth the Lackey) I am scrupulous of Conscience, which would much be burdened, if this battle should proceed: And therefore I say, I yield myself vanquished, and will mary this Gentlewoman presently.  
The Master of the Lists wondered at Tosilos reasons; and as he was one of those that knew of the contriving that business, could not answer him a word.  
Don Quixote stopped in the midst of his career, seeing his enemy met not.  
The Duke knew nothing why the Combat should not go forward; but the Master of the Lists went to tel him what Tosilos said, at which he was in suspense, and extremely choleric.  
whilst this happened, Tosilos came where Donna Rodriguez was, and cried aloud, mistress, Ile mary your daughter, and therefore will never strive for that with suits and contentions, which I may haue peaceably, and without danger of death.  
The valorous Don Quixote heard this, and said; Seeing 'tis so, and that I am loosed& free from my promise, let them mary on Gods name, and since God hath given her him, S. Peter bless her.  
The Duke now came down into the Place, and coming to Tosilos, said; Is it true, Knight, that you yield yourself vanquished, and that instigated by your timorous Conscience, you will mary that maid? I, Sir, quoth Tosilos.  
He doth very well, quoth Sancho then, for that thou wouldst give the Mouse, give the Cat, and he will free thee from trouble.  
Tosilos began now to vnlace his Helmet, and desired them to help him apace, for his spirits& his breath failed him,& he could not endure to see himself so long shut up in that narrow chamber. They undid it apace, and now the lackeys face was plainly discovered. Which when Donna Rodriguez and her daughter saw, they cried out, saying, This is coozenage, this is coozenage: they haue put Tosilos my Lord the Dukes Lackey in stead of our true husband: Iustice from God and the King, for such malice, not to say, villainy.  
grieve not yourselves, Ladies, quoth Don Quixote; for this is neither malice nor villainy, and if it be, the Duke is not in fault, but vilde Enchanters that persecute me: who envying that I should get the glory of this conquest, haue converted the face of your Husband into this, which you say is the Dukes Lackey: take my counsel,& in spite of the malice of my enemies, mary him, for doubtless 'tis he that you desire to haue to husband.  
The Duke that heard this, was ready to burst all his choler into laughter, and said; The things that happen to signor Don Quixote are so extraordinary, that it makes me believe this is not my Lackey: but let us use this slight and device, let us defer the marriage onely one fifteen daies, and keep this parsonage that holds us in doubt, locked up, in which perhaps he will return to his pristine shape; for the rancour that Enchanters bear signor Don Quixote, will not last so long, they gaining so little by these coozenages and transformations they use.  
O sir, quoth Sancho, these wicked elves do usually change one thing into another in my Masters affairs: not long since they changed a Knight he conquered, called The Knight of the Looking glasses, into the shape of the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, born in our town, and our special friend, and they turned my mistress Dulcinea deal Toboso into a rustic clown: and so I imagine this Lackey will live and die so, all daies of his life.  
To which( quoth Rodriguez daughter) Let him be who he will that demands me to wife( I thank him) I had rather be lawful wife to a Lackey, then a Paramour to be mocked by a Gentleman, though besides he that abused me is none.  
The upshot of all was, that Tosilos should be kept up, till they saw what became of his transformation. All cried, Don Quixote's was the victory, and the most were sad and melancholy, to see that the expected Combatants had not beaten one another to pieces; as boyes are sad, when the party they look for, comes not out to be hanged, when either the contrary, or the Iustice pardons him.  
The people departed, and the Duke and the duchess returned, and Don Quixote with them to the Castle, Tosilos was shut up, Donna Rodriguez and her daughter were most happy, to see that one way or other, that business should end in marriage, and Tosilos hoped no less.   

CHAP. LVII.  
How Don Quixote took his leave of the Duke, and what befell him with the witty Wanton Altisidora, the Duchesses damosel.  
NOW it seemed good to Don Quixote, to leave the idle life he had in the Castle, thinking it a great wrong to his person, to be shut up, and lazy amongst so many delights and dainties as were offered to him as a Knight errand by those Nobles, and he thought he was to give a strict account to heaven for that idleness& retirement, and so asked licence one day of the Dukes to depart: which they gave him, but seemed to be very sorrowful that he would leave them. The duchess gave Sancho Pansa his wives Letters, who wept in them, and said, Who would haue thought that such great hopes as the news of my government, engendered in my Wife Teresa Pansa's breast, should stop in this, that I must return to my Master Don Quixote's dragged adventures? For al that, I am glad to see that my Teresa was like herself, by sending the Acorns to the duchess, which if she had not sent, I being sorry she had shewed herself ungrateful: my comfort is, that this kind of Present could not be called a bribe; for I had my government before she sent it, and tis very fit that they who receive a benefit, though it be but in trifles, show themselves thankful. In effect, naked I came into the government,& naked I go out of it, and therefore I may say( which is no small matter) with a safe Conscience, Naked was I born, naked I am, I neither win nor lose. This Sancho discoursed with himself at the time when he was to depart,& Don Quixote going out,( having taken his leave the night before of the Dukes) one morning he presented himself all armed in the Castle Court, all the people of the house beholded him from the Galleries, and the Dukes too went out to see him. Sancho was vpon his Dapple, with his Wallets, his Cloakbagge, and his Sumpter-prouision most frollike; for the Dukes Steward, he that had been Trifaldis, gave him a purse with two hundred crownes in gold, to supply his wants by the way, and yet Don Quixote knew nothing of this.  
whilst all were thus beholding him, unlooked for, amongst other Matrons and Damozells of the Duchesses, the witty and wanton Altisidora beholded him, and with a wonderful voice said;  

harken, O thou wicked Knight,  
Hold a little back thy reins;  
do not so bestir the flank,  
Of thy most vngouern'd beast.  
False, behold, thou fliest not  
From a Serpent that is fierce,  
No; but from a little lamb,  
Lacks not much of being a sheep.  
Horrid Monster, th' hast abused  
The most beauteous damosel,  
That Diana in hills hath seen,  
Or Venus in woods beholded.  
cruel Virenus, Aeneas fugitive,  
Barrabas take thee, never mayst thou thrive.   

Thou carriest( Oh ill carrying)  
In thy wicked clutching paws,  
Th' entrails of an humble one,  
Tender and enamoured.  
Three night-caps hast thou born hence,  
And a pair of garters too,  
That do equal Marble pure,  
For their smoothness, white and black.  
Two thousand sighs thou bearest away,  
Which, were they but fire, they might  
Set on fire two thousand Troyes,  
( If two thousand Troyes there were.)  
cruel Virenus, Aeneas fugitive,  
barrabas take thee, never mayst thou thrive.   

Of thy Squire that Sancho he,  
May his entrails be so tough,  
And so hard that Dulcine.  
a may not dis-enchanted be.  
For the fault that thou hast made,  
Let poor she the burden bear,  
For the just, for wrongers do  
Sometimes in my country pay.  
Let thy best adventures all,  
Into mis-aduentures turn:  
All thy pleasure to a dream,  
firmness to forgetfulness.  
cruel Virenus, Aeneas fugitive,  
barrabas take thee, never mayst thou thrive.   

mayst thou false accounted be,  
From sevil to Marchena,  
From Granada unto Loia,  
From 
Though these Verses were made on purpose, to be absurd; yet sure the authority here fell into the common absurdity, that I haue known many of his countrymen do, which is, that England is in London, and not 'vice Verse.  London to England.  
Whenso'ere thou plai'st at trump,  
At Primera, or at Saint,  
never may'st thou see a King,  
Aces, seuens fly from thee.  
If thou chance to cut thy Cornes,  
mayst thou wound till blood do come:  
Also let the stumps remain,  
If thou pluck out hollow teeth.  
cruel Virenus, Aeneas fugitive,  
barrabas take thee, never may'st thou thrive.   
whilst the grieved Altisidora thus lamented, Don Quixote beholded her, and without answering a word, turning to Sancho, he said; By thy fore-fathers lives, I conjure thee, my Sancho, that thou tell me one truth: tell me happily, hast thou the three Night-caps, and the Garters that this enamoured damosel speaks of? To which, quoth Sancho, the three Caps I haue: but for your Garters, as sure as the Sea burns.  
The duchess wondered at Altisidora's looseness: for though shee held her to bee bold, witty, and wanton; yet shee never thought she would haue proceeded so far: and knowing nothing of this iest, her admiration was the greater.  
The Duke meant to second the sport, and therfore said, I do not like it well, Sir Knight; that having received this good entertainment that hath been made you in my Castle, you should presume to carry away three Night-caps at least; if it were but only my Damozels Garters, 'tis a sign of a false heart, not suitable to your Honour, and therefore restore her Garters: if not, I challenge you to a mortal combat, and Ile not fear that your elvish Enchanters will truck or change my face as they haue done my Lackey Tosilos, that was to haue fought with you.  
God forbid( quoth Don Quixote) that I should vnsheath my sword against your most Illustrious Person, from whom I haue received so many favours. The Night-caps I will restore: for Sancho says he hath them; the Garters 'tis impossible, for neither he nor I received them: and if this your damosel will look into her corners, I warrant her she finds them. I, my Lord, was never thief, nor never think I shall as long as I live, if God forsake me not. This damosel speaks( as shee pleaseth) as being enamoured on what I am not faulty of: and therefore I haue no reason to ask forgiveness, neither of her, nor your Excellency, whom I beseech to haue a better opinion of me: and again, I desire your Licence to bee vpon my way.  
God sand you, signor Don Quixote, quoth the duchess, so good a journey, that wee may always hear happy news of your brave exploits, and so God be with you: for the longer you stay, the more you increase the flames in the Damozels hearts that behold you: and for mine, Ile punish her so, that hence forward she shall neither mis-behaue herself in look or action. hear me then but a word, oh valorous Don Quixote,( quoth Altisidora) which is, that I cry thee mercy for the theft of my garters; for in my soul and conscience I haue them on, and I haue fallen into the same carelessness of his, that looked for his ass when herod vpon him.  
Did not I tell you, quoth Sancho, I am a fit Youth to conceal thefts? for had I been so, I had in two bouts fit occasions in my government.  
Don Quixote inclined his head, and made an obeisance to the Dukes and by-standers, and turning Rosinantes reins, Sancho following him on Dapple, he went out of the Castle, taking his way towards Saragosa.   

CHAP. LVIII.  
Of adventures that came so thick and three-fold on Don Quixote, that they gave no respite one to the other.  
WHen Don Quixote saw himself in open field, free and vn-cumbred from Altisidora's wooing, he thought himself in his Center, and that his spirits were renewed, to prosecute his new project of chivalry; and turning to Sancho, said;  
Liberty, Sancho, is one of the preciousest gifts that heaven hath given men, the treasure that the earth encloseth, and the Sea hides, cannot be equalized to it. Life ought to be hazarded, as well for liberty, as for a mans honor; and by the contrary, captivity is the greatest evil that 〈◇〉 b●… all men. This I tell thee, Sancho, because thou hast well observed the cheer and plenty we haue had in the Castle we left. Well, in the midst of those sanoury banquets, and those drinks cooled with snow, me thought I was straitned with hunger; for I enjoyed nothing with the liberty I should haue done, had it been mine own; for the obligations of recompensing benefits and favours received, are ties that curb a free mind. Happy that man, to whom heaven hath given a piece of bread, without obligation to thank any else, but heaven alone.  
For all that( quoth Sancho) tis not fit for us to be unthankful for two hundred Crowns that we haue received in gold, which the Dukes Steward gave me in a purse, which I carry as a comforting cordial next my heart for what may fall out; for wee shall not always find Castles where we shall be much made on; sometimes wee shall meet with Inns, where wee shall bee cudgeled.  
In these and such like discourses went the Errants on, Knight and Squire, when they saw( having gone about half a league) vpon the grass of a green meadow, some dozen men, with their cloaks spread at dinner, clad like husbandmen; somewhat near them, they had, as it were, white sheets, with which they covered something underneath: they were set vp-right,& stretched at length, and put a pretty distance one from another.  
Don Quixote came to those that were eating, and saluting them first courteously, he asked them what was under that linen? One of them answered him, Sir, under this linen there be certain Images of Embossed work in wood, which must serve in a show we make in our village: we carry them covered, that they may not be sullied, and on our shoulders, that they be not broken. If you please( quoth Don Quixote) I should be glad to see them; for Images carried so charily, doubtless are good ones. Good( quoth one) if they be not, let their price speak, for there is none of them but cost fifty Ducats; and that you may see tis true, pray stay, and you shall see it with your eyes: and rising, he left his dinner, and went to uncover the first Image, which shewed to be Saint George on horseback, with a winding Serpent at his feet, ●nd his Lance run thorough the throat of it, with the fierceness he useth to be painted with: all the Images seemed to be of pure gold. And Don Quixote seeing it, said, This Knight was one of the best Errants that the divine Warre-fare had, his name was Saint George, and he was a unsuccessful defender of Damozels. Let's see this next. The man discovered it, and it seemed to be Saint Martin on horseback, that divided his cloak with the poor man, and Don Quixote no sooner saw it, but he said, This Knight also was one of our Christian adventurers, and I believe he was more liberal then valiant, as thou mayst see, Sancho, by his dividing his cloak, and giuing the poor man half, and doubtless it was then Winter; for had it been Summer, he would haue given him all, he was so charitable.  
Not so, quoth Sancho, but he stuck to the proverb, To give and to haue, doth a brain crave.  
Don Quixote laughed, and desired them to take away another piece of linen, under which was the Image of the patron of spain on horseback, his sword bloodied, trampling on Moores, and treading on heads: and Don Quixote seeing it, said, I mary, Sir, here's a Knight indeed, one of Christs Squadrons, this is called Don Saint Diego, Moore-killer, one of the valiantest Saints and Knights in the world, then, or in heaven now. Then they discovered another piece, which shewed Saint Paul his falling from his horse, with al the circumstances usually painted in the Table of his conversion: when he saw him so lively, as if you would say, Christ were then speaking to him,& Paul answering, he said, This was the greatest enemy that the Church of God had in a long time, and the greatest Defender that ever it shall haue, a Knight errand in his life-time, and a quiet Saint in his death, a restless labourer in the Vineyard of the Lord, a Doctor of Nations, whose school was heaven, and Christ himself his Reader and instructor. Now there were no more Images: and so Don Quixote commanded them to cover them again, and said to those that carried them, I hold it for a propitious sign, Brethren, to haue seen what I haue seen: for those Saints& Knights were of my profession, which is, to exercise arms; onely the difference between them and me is, that they were Saints, and fought divinely; I am a sinner, and fight humanly. They conquered heaven by force of their arms( for heaven suffers force) and hitherto I know not what I conquer by the force of my sufferings: but if my Dulcinea deal Toboso be once free from hers, my Fortune bettering itself, and my iudgement repaired, perhaps I might take a better course then I do.  
God grant, and sin be deaf, quoth Sancho, straight.  
The men wondered as well at Don Quixotes shape, as his discourse, and understood not one half, what it meant. They ended their dinner, and got up their Images, and taking leave of Don Quixote, they went on their way. Sancho admired afresh, as if he had never known his Master, at his knowledge, thinking there was no History in the world, or Accident, that he had not ciphered vpon his nail, and nailed in his memory,& said, truly( Master mine) if this that hath befallen us to day may be called an adventure, it hath been one of the most delicious sweetest, that in all our peregrination hath befallen us; for wee are come out of it, without blows or affrightment, or laying hands to our swords, or without beating the earth with our bodies, or being hungry: God be thanked that he hath let me see this with these eyes of mine.  
Thou sayest well, Sancho,( quoth Don Quizote) but thou must know, the times are not always alike, nor run on in one fashion, and that which the vulgar commonly calls Bodings, which are not grounded vpon any natural reason, ought to bee held, and reputed, and judged by a wise man for good lucke. One of your Wizards riseth in a morning, goes out of his house, meets with a friar of the blessed Order of S. Francis, and as if he had met with a Griffin, turns his back, and runs home again. Tother Mendoza, he spills the salt on the Table, and straight hath a melancholy sprinkled all over his heart, as if Nature were bound to show signs of ensuing mis-chances, with things of so small moment as the aforesaid: The discreet Christians ought not to stand vpon points, or to look into the doings of heaven. Scipio comes into Africa, and leaping on shore, he stumbles; his Souldiers hold it for an ill sign: but he embracing the ground, said, Thou canst not fly from me, Africa, for I haue fast hold on thee in mine arms. So that Sancho, the meeting with these Images hath been a most happy success to me.  
I believe you( quoth Sancho) and pray tell me the cause why we Spaniards cry, Saint Iaques, and shut spain? is spain open troe, so that it needed be shut? or what ceremony is this?  
Thou art most simplo, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote,& look; This Grand Knight with the read cross, God hath given him to spain for a Patron and Protector, especially in the hard conflicts that the Moores and we had together; and therefore they invoke and call on him as their Protector in all their battels they give, and many times they haue visibly seen him in them, overthrowing, trampling, destroying& killing Agaren Squadrons. Many examples could I produce to confirm this, out of the true Spanish Histories.  
Sancho changed his discourse, and said to his Master, Sir, I do wonder at the looseness of Altisidora, the Duchesses damosel; that same fellow called love, hath bravely wounded and run her thorough; they say he is a little blind boy, that though he be bleare-eyed, or to say truer, blind; takes the least heart for his mark,& hits it, and pierceth it with his Flight from one side to the other. I haue also heard say, that in the modesty& wariness of Damozels, his amorous arrows are headless& dull: but in this Altisidora, it seems they are rather whetted, then dull. look you, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, love hath no respect or limit in his dealing, and hath the same condition with Death, that as well sets vpon the high Palaces of Kings, as the low Cottages of shepherds, and when he takes entire possession of a soul, the first thing he does, is to banish shane, without which, Altisidora declared her desires, that rather engendered in my breast confusion then pitty.  
Notable cruelty,( quoth Sancho) vnheard-of thanklesnesse! I know for my part, that the least amorous reason of hers, would haue humbled and made me her vassal; ah whoore-son, what a heart of marble, entrails of brass, and soul of rough-cast had you? but I cannot imagine what this damosel saw in you, that should so vanquish her? what Gallantry? what courage? what conceit? what countenance? which of these alone, or all together enamoured her? for truly, truly, I behold you many times from head to foot, and I see more in you to affright, then to enamour: and having also heard say, that beauty is the first and principal part that doth enamour, you having none, I know not on what the poor soul was enamoured.  
mark, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) there be two kindes of beauty, one of the mind, the other of the body; that of the mind doth march, and is seen in the understanding, in honesty, in good proceeding, in liberality, in being well-bredde: and all these qualities are untamed, and may be in an ill-favoured man; and when the choice is set vpon this beauty, and not vpon that of the body, it causeth love with more force and advantage. I see, Sancho, that I am not lovely, and yet I know too I am not deformed, and it is enough for an honest man, if he be not a monster, to be beloved, so I haue the portions of the mind I haue  told thee of.  
In these reasons and discourses they went, entering in at a wood that was out of the way, and suddenly, before they were ware, Don Quixote found himself entangled in nets of green thread, that were set from one three to another; and not imagining what it might be, he said to Sancho, me thinks, Sancho, this adventure of these Nets is one of the strangest that may be imagined; hang me, if the Enchanters that persecute me, mean not to entangle me in them, and to stop my way, in reuenge of the rigour I haue used toward Altisidora. Well, let them know that these Nets, were they of hardest Diamonds, as they are of green thread; or stronger then that the jealous god of the Black-Smiths entangled Venus and Mars with, I would break it, as if it were bull-rushes or yarn: and striving to get forward, suddenly two most beautiful Shepheardesses coming from out the Thicket, appeared before him, two, at least, attired like Shepheardesses, onely their loose jackets& Coats were of fine cloth of gold, I say, their Kirtles were of Tissue; their hairs hung loose over their shoulders, that for golden, might compare with the sunbeams: they were crwoned with two Garlands woven with green bays, and red-Flower gentle: their ages seemed to be not under fifteen, nor past eighteen.  
This was a sight that astonished Sancho, suspended Don Quixote, made the sun stop in his career to behold them, and held all the four in marvelous silence. In fine, the first that spake, was one of the Shepheardesses, that said to Don Quixote, Hold, Gentlemen, and break not our Nets, that are spread there not to your hurt, but for our recreation; and because I know you will ask us why they are so put, and who we are, I will tell you briefly.  
In a village some two leagues hence, where there are many Gentlemen of quality, and rich; amongst many acquaintances and kindred it was agreed, that the wives, sons and daughters, neighbours, friends and kinsfolk, should join to make merry in this place, which is one of the pleasantest here round about, forming as it were amongst us, a new and pastoral Arcadia, clothing the maides like Shepheardesses, and the young men like shepherds: two Eglogues we haue studied, one of the famous Poet Garsilasso, and the other of that most excellent Poet Camoes in his own Mother Portugall Tongue, which hitherto we haue not repeated. Yesterday was the first day we came hither, wee haue our Tents, called Field-Tents, pitched amongst these trees, close by the brink of a goodly running brook, which fructifies all these meadows: last night wee did spread our nets on these trees, to catch the poor birds, that being alured with our call, should fall into them. If you please, Sir, to be our guest, you shall be entertained liberally and courteously; for now into this place comes neither sorrow nor melancholy. With this she was silent and said no more.  
To which Don Quixote answered; Truly,( fairest Lady) Actaeon was not more astonished or in suspense, when on the sudden he saw Diana bathing herself in the fountain, then I haue been in beholding your beauty: I commend the manner of your pastime, and thank you for your kind offers, and if I may serve you, so I may be sure you will be obeied, you may command me; for my profession is this, to show myself thankful, and a doer of good to all sorts of people, especially of the rank that your person shows you to be; and if those Nets, as they take up but a little piece of ground, should take up the whole world, I would seek out new worlds to pass thorough, rather then break them: and that you may give credit to this my exaggeration, behold, at least he that promiseth you this, is Don Quixote de la Mancha, if haply this name hath come to your hearing.  
Ah sweet friend( quoth the other shepherdess) what good lucke is this? seest thou this Gentleman before us? Well, let me tell thee, he is the valiantest, the most enamoured, and the most courteous in the world, if the History lie not and deceive us, which is in print, of his famous exploits which I haue red: I hold a wager this honest fellow here with him is, what-call ye him? Sancho Pansa his Squire, that hath no fellow for his mirth.  
'tis true( quoth Sancho) I am that merry fellow, and that Squire you speak of, and this Gentleman is my Master, the very selfsame Don Quixote aforesaid and Historified.  
Ah, quoth the other, let us entreat him, friend, to stay with us, for our friends and kindred will be infinitely glad of it, and I haue heard tell as well as thou, of his worth and wit; and above all, they say of him, that he is the firmest and loyallest Amourist that is known, and that his mistress is one Dulcinea deal Toboso, that bears the prise from all the beauties in spain.  
With just reason she doth, quoth Don Quixote, if so be your matchless beauties put it not in controversy: Weary not yourselves, Ladies, in detaining me; for the precise ties of my profession will let me rest no where.  
By this there came a brother of one of the Shepheardesses, where the four were as brave& gallant as they: they  told him, that he which was with them, was the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha, and the other Sancho his Squire, of whom he had notice, as having red his History.  
The gallant shepherd saluted him, desiring him to come with him to their Tents. Don Quixote was forced to consent, which he did. And now the Nets were drawn, and filled with diuers little birds, who deceived with the colour of them, fell into the danger they shunned: there met in that place above thirty persons, all gallantly clad like shepherds& Shepheardesses; and instantly they were made to know who Don Quixote was, and his Squire; at which they were not a little contented; for they had notice of him by his history: they came to the Tents, and found the Tables covered, rich, abundant, and neat: they honoured Don Quixote with the chief seat; all of them beholded him, and admired to see him.  
Finally, the cloth being taken away, Don Quixote very gravely lifted up his voice, and said, Amongst the greatest sins there are committed( though some say Pride) yet I say, ingratitude is one, holding myself to the usual saying, That Hell is full of the ungrateful. This sin, as much as possible I could, I haue sought to avoid ever since I had reason: and if I cannot repay one good turn with another, in stead of that, my desires are not wanting, and when they suffice not, I publish them: for he that acknowledgeth and publisheth good turns received, would also recompense them with others, if he could: for, for the most part, they that receive, are inferior to those that give, and so God is above all; because he is giver above all, and the gifts of men cannot be equal to Gods for the infinite difference betwixt them: and this straightness& barenes doth in some measure supply a thankfulness; I therefore being thankful for the kindness I haue here received, and not able to correspond in the same proportion, containing myself in the narrow limits of my ability, offer what I may, and what I haue from my harvest: and therefore I say, that I will for two long dayes maintain in midst of the Kings high-way toward Saragosa, that these ladies, counterfeit Shepheardesses here present, are the fairest and most courteous Damozels in the world, excepting onely the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso sole Mistris of my thoughts, with peace be it spoken to as many both hes and shees as hear me.  
Which when Sancho heard, that had attentively listened, crying out, he said, Is it possible there can bee any body in the world, that dares say or swear that this Master of mine is mad? Pray speak: You Gentlemen shepherds, is there any country Vicar, be he never so wise, or never so good a scholar, that can say what my Master hath said? or is there any Knight errand, let him be never so much famed for his valour, that can offer what my Master hath here offered?  
Don Quixote turned to Sancho, and all enflamed and choleric, said, Is it possible, O Sancho, that there is any body in the world that will say, Thou art not a coxcomb, lined with the same, and hemmed with I know not what malice or knavery? Who bids thee meddle with my matters, in sifting out, whether I be wise or a iolt-head? Peace and not a word, but saddle Rosinante, if he be vnsaddled, and let's put my offer in execution: for with the iustice that I haue on my side, thou mayst presume, as many as I meet withall, are vanquished: and so with great fury, and in a terrible huffe he rose from his chair, leaving all the by-standers in admiration, and in doubt whether they should hold him mad, or wise. Finally, they persuaded him, he should not thrust himself into such an engagement: for they acknowledged his thankful good will, and that there needed no new demonstrations to know his valorous mind: for his exploits mentioned in his History were sufficient.  
For all that, Don Quixote proceeded in his purpose, and mounted on Rosinante, buckling his shield to him, and taking his lance, he got to the high-way, not far from the green meadow. Sancho followed him vpon Dapple, with all the pastoral flock, desirous to see what might be the issue of that arrogant, and never seen offer.  
Don Quixote being( as I haue said) vpon the way, he wounded the air with these words: Oh you Passengers, and way-faring Knights, Squires on foot, or on horseback, that either now pass this way, or are to pass in these two ensuing dayes, know, that Don Quixote de la Mancha, Knight errand, is here ready to maintain, that setting the beauty of the Mistris of my soul aside, Dulcinea deal Toboso, the Nymphs that inhabit these meadows and groves, are the fairest that may be: and he that is of a contrary opinion, let him come; for here I expect him.  
Twice he repeated these selfsame words, and twice they were not heard by any adventurer: but his good lucke that directed his affairs better and better, so ordained, that a pretty while after, they might see a troope of horse-men vpon the way, and many of them with launces in their hands, all of them going in a heap together, and apace: they that were with Don Quixote, as soon as ever they saw them, turned their backs, and got far enough out of the way: for they knew if they stayed, they might be in some danger, onely Don Quixote with an undaunted heart stood still; and Sancho Pansa warded himself with Rosinante's buttocks.  
The troope of the launces came on, and one that was foremost cried out aloud to Don Quixote, saying, Out of the way, madman: for these bulls will beate thee to pieces.  
go to, ye skoundrels, quoth Don Quixote, your bulls shall not prevail with me, though they were the fiercest that Xarama hath feeding on his banks: confess, ye elves, all in one, that what I haue proclaimed here, is a truth, or else come and combat with me.  
The herdsman had no leisure to answer, nor Don Quixote to get out of the way, though he would: and so the troope of wild bulls, together with the tame Kine, and the multitude of herdsmen, and others, that carried them to bee kept up in a town, where they were the next day to bee baited, trampled over Don Quixote, Sancho, Rosinante and Dapple, tumbling them all down vpon the ground.  
Sancho was bruised, Don Quixote astonished, Dapple banged, and Rosinante not very catholic: but in fine all of them gate up, and Don Quixote in all hast, sometimes stumbling, otherwhiles falling, began to run after the whole Herd, crying aloud, Hold, Stay, ye elvish crew; for one onely Knight expects you, who is not of that mind or opinion of those that say, To a flying enemy a silver bridge. But the hasty runners stayed never a whit the more for this; nor made any reckoning of his threats more then of last yeeres clouds.  
Don Quixote being weary stayed him. So, fuller of anger then reuenge, he sate in the way, expecting when Sancho, Rosinante, and Dapple should arrive. At length they came, and Master and man got up; and without leave taking of the feigned or counterfeit Arcadia, with more shane then delight, they went onward their way.   

CHAP. LIX.  
Of an extraordinary accident that befell Don Quixote; which may be held for an adventure.  
THe dust and weariness that Don Quixote and Sancho received from the vnmannerly bulls, was recompensed with a clear and running fountain, which they found in a cool grove, on whose margin leaving Rosinante and Dapple loose without a bridle or Halter, the two way-beaten, Master and Man sate down. Sancho repaired to the Cup-boord of his Wallets, and took out of them that which he called his sauce, and rensed his mouth: Don Quixote washed his face, with which refreshing his faint spirits, recovered breath.  
Don Quixote ate nothing for pure grief, neither durst Sancho touch any meate before him for pure mannerlinesse, and expected his Master should first bee his Taster: but seeing him carried on with his imaginations, not remembering to put a bit in his mouth, he never asked him: and ouer-running all kind of manners, he began to barrel up all the Bread and Cheese that was before him in his stomach.  
eat, friend Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, hold life together; for thou hast more need then I, and leave me to die by the hands of my sorrows, and the force of my mis-fortunes. I was born, Sancho, to live dying, and thou, to die eating: and that thou mayst see I tell thee true; consider me printed in Histories, famous in arms, well nurtured in mine Actions, respected by Princes, courted by Damozels: now at the end of all, when I hoped for bays, Triumphs and Crownes laid up and merited by my famous exploits: this morning I haue seen myself trampled on and kicked, and bruised with the feet of base unclean Beasts: the consideration of this dulls my teeth, makes slow my grinders, and benummes my hands, and altogether bereaves me of my appetite; so that I think I shall die with hunger, the cruelest of all deaths.  
So that, quoth Sancho( not leaving his fast chewing) you will not allow of that proverb that says, Let Martha die, so shee die not empty: at least, I will not be cause of my death. I mean rather to do as the shoemaker doth, that stretcheth the Leather with his teeth, till he makes it reach as he list; Ile draw out my life by eating, till it come to the end that heaven hath allotted it: and know, Sir, there is no greater madness in the world, then to despair as you do: and beleeue me, and after you haue eaten, rest yourself a little vpon the Downe-beds of this green grass, and you shall see, that when you wake, you shall find yourself somewhat lightened.  
Don Quixote took his counsel, taking his reasons to be rather philosophical, then senseless, and said, If thou, O Sancho, wouldest do, what I shall now tell thee for me, my lightsomeness would be certain, and my sorrows not so great; which is, that whilst I( obeying thy counsel) sleep, thou go out of the way a little, and with Rosinantes reins, turning thy flesh to the air, give thyself three or four hundred lashes vpon account of the three thousand, and so many that thou art to give for the dis-enchanting Dulcinea, which is no small pity, that that poor Lady should be enchanted by thy carelessness and negligence.  
There is much to be said in this business( quoth Sancho) let's both sleep now, and God will provide afterward: Know, Sir, that this whipping in could blood, is a cruel thing, especially, if it light vpon a weak body and worse fed; let my Lady Dulemea haue patience, for when she least thinks of it, shee shall see me a very sieve with lashes, and till death all is life, I mean, I live with a desire to fulfil my promise.  
Don Quixote giuing him thankes, ate something, and Sancho a great deal, leaving the two continual friends and companions, Rosinante and Dapple to their liberum arbitrium, disorderly feeding vpon the pasture that was plentiful in that meadow.  
They awaked somewhat late, and up they got again, and went on their way, making hast to come to an inn, which seemed to be about a League off: I say an inn: for Don Quixote called it so, contrary to his ordinary custom of calling all inns Castles. Well, to it they come, they asked mine host, if there were any lodging. he answered, Yes, with all the commodiousness and provision that they might haue in the town of Saragosa.  
They alighted, and Sancho retired with his Sumptry into a Chamber of which the host gave him the Key: the Beasts he carried to the Stable, and gave them their stint, and so went to see what Don Quixote( who sate by vpon a Bench) would command him, giuing God particular thankes, that that inn had not appeared to him a Castle.  
Supper time came on: so to their resting place they got.  
Sancho asked mine host what he had for Supper? To which quoth he, Your mouth shall haue measure, ask what you will? 
A good Character, of a lying beggarly vainglorious Spanish host in general.  for from the Birds of the air, to the Poultry of the earth, and the fishes of the Sea, that inn was provided.  
Not so much, quoth Sancho, for so we may haue a couple of roasted Chickens, 'twill be enough: for my Master is weak stomackt, and eats little, and I am no very greedy-gut.  
Mine host answered him, he had no Chickens, for the Kites had devoured them. Why then let's haue a tender Pullet roasted, quoth he. A Pullet? My father as soon: trust me, trust me, I sent above fifty yesterday to the city to sell: saving Pullets ask what you will.  
Why then, quoth Sancho, you want no veal, or Kid? We haue none in the house now, said my host, for it is all spent: but by next week we shall haue to spare.  
The matter is mended( quoth Sancho.) I hold a wager all these wants are supplied with eggs and Bacon.  
Assuredly( quoth mine host) here's fine doings with my guest; I haue  told him, we haue neither Pullet nor Hens, and yet he would haue eggs. Run, if you will, to other dainties, and leave these gluttonnies.  
resolve us( Body of me, quoth Sancho) and tell me what we shall haue, and leave you your running, mine host. The host said, The very truth is. I haue two Neats-feet, like calves feet; or two Calues-feet, like Neats-feet, they are sod with their Pease, Bacon, and onions: and just at this instant cry, Come eat me, Come eat me.  
For mine I mark them henceforward, quoth Sancho, and let no man touch them; for Ile pay more for them then any body else, and there could haue been no better meat for me in the world.  
No man shall touch them, said mine host: for other guests I haue out of pure gentility, bring their cook, Cater, and Butler with them. If it go by gentle( quoth Sancho) none more gentle then my Master: but his Calling permits no Larders or Butteries: we clap us down in the midst of a field, and fill ourselves with Acorns and Medlars.  
This dicourse passed between Sancho and the host, without Sancho's answering him, who asked what Calling his Masters was of Supper was ready, Don Quixote went to his Chamber, mine host brought the pot of meat just as it was, and sate him faire& well down to supper: it seemed that in another Chamber next Don Quixotes, divided only by a thin Lath-wall, he might hear one say, By your life, signor Don jeronimo, whilst supper is to come in, let us read another Chapter in the second part of Don Quixote.  
Don Quixote scarce heard himself name, when up he stood,& watchfully gave ear to their discourse concerning him;& he heard that the aforesaid Don jeronimo answered, signor Don John, why should we read these fopperies? he that hath red the first part of Don Quixote, it is impossible he should take any pleasure in reading the second.  
For all that, quoth Don John, 'twere good reading it: for there is no book so ill, that hath not some good thing in it.  
That which most displeaseth me in this is, that he makes Don Quixote dis-enamoured of Dulcinea deal Toboso.  
Which when Don Quixote heard, full of wrath and despite he lifted up his voice, saying, whosoever saith Don Quixote de la Mancha hath forgotten, or can forget Dulcinea deal Toboso, I will make him know with equal arms, that he is far from the truth: for the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso cannot be forgotten; neither can forgetfulness be contained in Don Quixote, his scutcheon is loyalty, his profession sweetly to keep it, without doing it any violence.  
Who is that answers us, said they in the next room? Who should it be( quoth Sancho) but Don Quixote himself, that will make good all he hath said, or as much as he shall say? for a good Pay-master cares not for his pawns.  
Scarce had Sancho said this, when the two Gentlemen came in at the Chamber door: for they seemed no less to them:& one of them casting his arms about Don Quixotes neck, said, neither can your presence belie your name, or your name credit your presence. doubtless you, Sir, are the right Don Quixote de la Mancha, north-star, and procedure of Knight-errantrie, in spite of him that hath usurped your name, and amnihilated your exploits, as the Author of this book, I here deliver, hath done: and giuing him the book that his companion had, Don Quixote took it, and without answering a word, began to turn the leaves, and a while after returned it, saying, In this little that I haue seen, I haue found three things in this 
This the Author of this book brings in by way of invective against an Aragonian scholar, that wrote a second part of Don Quixote, before this was published.  Author worthy of reprehension.  
The first is, some words I haue red in his Prologue.  
The second, that his language is Arragonian: for sometimes he writes without Articles: and the third which doth most confirm his ignorance, is, That he errs and strays from the truth in the chiefest of the History: for here he says that Sancho Pansa my Squires wifes name was Mary Gutierrez, which is not so: but she is called Teresa Pansa: and therfore he that errs in so main a matter, it may well be feared, he will err in all the rest of the History.  
To this Sancho said, Prettily done indeed of the Historian; he knows very well sure what belongs to our affairs, since he calls my wife Teresa Pansa, Mary Gutierrez. Pray take the book again, Sir, and see whether I be there, and whether he haue changed my name. By your speech, friend, quoth Don jeronimo, you should be Sancho Pansa signor Don Quixotes Squire I am( quoth Sancho) and I am proud of it.  
Well, in faith( said the Gentleman) this modern Author doth not treat of you so neatly, as your Person makes show for: he paints you out for a Glutton, an idiot, and nothing witty, and far different from the Sancho that is described in the first part of your Masters History.  
God forgive him( said Sancho:) he should haue left me in my corner, and not remembered me; for, every man in his ability, and Tis good sleeping in a whole skin.  
The two Gentlemen entreated Don Quixote to go to their chamber, and Sup with them; for they knew well, that in that inn he found not things fitting to his person.  
Don Quixote, who was ever courteous, condescended to their requests, and supped with them: Sancho remained with his flesh-pot sole Lord and governor. Sancho sate at the vpper end of the Table, and with him the Inn-keeper, that was no less affectioned to his Neates-feete, then Sancho.  
In the midst of supper, Don John asked Don Quixote, what news he had of his Lady Dulcinea deal Toboso, whether she were married, or brought a-bed, or great with child, or being entire, whether( respecting her honesty and good decorum) she were mindful of signor Don Quixote's amorous desires? To which he answered,  
Dulcinea is as entire, and my desires as firm as ever, our correspondency in the ancient barrenness, her beauty transformed into the complexion of a base milke-wench: and strait he recounted unto them every tittle of her Enchantment, and what had befallen him in Montesinos cave, with the order that the sage Merlin had given for her dis-enchanting, which was by Sancho's stripes.  
Great was the delight the two Gentlemen received to hear Don Quixote tell the strange passages of his History, and so they wondered at his fopperies, as also his elegant manner of delivering them; here they held him to be wise, there he slipped from them by the fool: so they knew not what medium to give him, betwixt wisdom and folly.  
Sancho ended his Supper: and leaving the In keeper, passed to the chamber where his Master was, and entering, said, Hang me, Sirs, if the Author of this book that your Worships haue, would that we should eat a good meal together; pray God, as he calls me Glutton, he say not that I am a Drunkard too.  
Yes mary doth he, said Don jeronimo; but I know not how directly, though I know his reasons do not hang together, and are very erroneous, as I see by Sancho's physiognomy here present. believe me( quoth Sancho) Sancho and Don Quixote are differing in this History, from what they are in that Cid Hamete Benengeli composed; for wee are, my Master valiant, discreet, and amorous: I simplo and conceited; but neither Glutton nor Drunkard.  
I believe it( said Don John) and were it possible, it should be commanded, that none should dare to treat of the grand Don Quixote's affairs, but Cid Hamete, his first Author: as Alexander commanded that none but Apelles should dare to draw him.  
Let whose will draw me( quoth Don Quixote:) but let him not abuse me; for oft times patience falls, when injuries ouerload. None, quoth Don John, can be done signor Don Quixote, that he will not be revenged of, if he ward it not with the shield of his patience, which in my opinion is strong and great.  
In these and other discourses, they passed a great part of the night, and though Don John would, that Don Quixote should haue red more in the book, to see what it did descant on, yet he could not prevail with him, saying, He made account he had red it, and concluded it to be but an idle Pamphlet,& that he would not( if it should come to the Authors knowledge that he had meddled with it) he should make himself merry to think he had red it; for our thoughts must not be busied in filthy and obscene things, much less our eyes.  
They asked him, whither he purposed his voyage? he answered, to Saragosa, to be at the entrusts in harness, that use to be there yearly.  
Don John  told him, that there was one thing in that new History, which was, that he should be at a Running at the Ring in that City, as short of invention, as poor in Mottos, but most poor in liveries, and rich in nothing but simplicities.  
For this matter onely, quoth Don Quixote, I will not set foot in Saragosa: and therefore the world shall see what a liar this modern Historiographer is, and people shall perceive, I am not the Don Quixote he speaks of.  
You shall do very well, quoth Don jeronimo; for there bee other entrusts in Barselona, where signor Don Quixote may show his valour. So I mean to do( quoth Don Quixote) and therefore let me take leave of you( for it is time) to go to bed, and so hold me in the rank of your greatest friends and servitors. And me too, quoth Sancho, for it may be I shall be good for somewhat.  
With this they took leave, and Don Quixote and Sancho retired to their chamber, leaving Don John and Don jeronimo in admiration, to see what a medley he had made with his discretion and madness; and they verily believed, that these were the right Don Quixote and Sancho, and not they whom the Aragonian Author described.  
Don Quixote rose early, and knocking vpon the thin wall of the other chamber, he took leave of those guests: Sancho payed the host royally, but advised him, he should either less praise the provision of his inn, or haue it better provided.   

CHAP. LX.  
What happened to Don Quixote, going to Barselona.  
THe morning was cool, and the day promised no less, when Don Quixote left the inn, informing himself first, which was the ready way to Barselona, without coming to Saragosa: such was the desire he had to prove the new Historian a liar, who they said, dispraised him so much. It fell out so, that in six daies there fell out nothing worth writing to him; at the end of which, he was be-nighted, going out of his way, in a Thicket of oaks or cork trees; for in this Cid Hamete is not so punctual, as in other matters he useth to be.  
The Master and man alighted from their beasts, and setting themselves at the trees roots: Sancho that had had his beaver that day, entred roundly the gates of sleep; but Don Quixote, whom imaginations kept awake much more then hunger, could not ioyn his eyes, but rather was busying his thoughts in a thousand several places: Sometimes he thought he found himself in Montesino's cave, and that he saw Dulcinea, converted into a Country wench, leap vpon her Asse-Colt: Now the sage Merlins words rang in his ears, repeating unto him the conditions that were to be observed for her dis-enchanting: he was stark mad to see Sancho's laziness, and want of Charity; for, as he thought, he had onely given himself five stripes, a poor and unequal number to those behind, and he was so grieved and enraged with this, that he framed this discourse to himself:  
If Alexander the Great did cut the Gordian knot, saying; Cutting and undoing is all one, and yet for all that, was Lord of all Asia; no otherwise may it happen in the dis-enchanting of Dulcinea, if I should whip Sancho, volens nolens; for if the condition of this remedy be, that Sancho receive three thousand and so many ierkes, what care I whether he give them, or that another do, since the substance is in him that gives them, come they by what means they will?  
With this imagination he came to Sancho, having first taken Rosinante's reins, and so fitted them, that he might lash him with them, he began to untruss his points: The opinion is, that he had but one before, which held up his Gally-Gascoynes. But he was no sooner approached, when Sancho awaked and came to himself, and said, Who is that? Who is it toucheth and vntrusseth me? Tis I, quoth Don Quixote, that come to supply thy defects, and to remedy my troubles; I come to whip thee, Sancho, and to discharge the debt in part thou standest obliged in. Dulcinea perisheth, thou livest carelessly, I die desiring; and therefore untruss thyself willingly, for I haue a mind in these deserts to give thee at least two thousand lashes.  
Not so, quoth Sancho, pray be quiet: and if not, I protest, deaf men shall hear us: the stripes in which I engaged myself must be voluntary, and not enforced, and at this time I haue no mind to whip myself; tis enough that I give you my word to beat myself, and fly-flappe me when I haue a disposition to it.  
There's no leaving of it to thy courtesy, Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) for thou art hard-hearted, and though a clown, yet tender of flesh; and so he contended and strove to vnlace him: which when Sancho Pansa saw, he stood to it, and setting vpon his Master, closed with him, and tripping up his heels, cast him vpon his back on the ground, he put his right knee vpon his breast, and with his hands held his, so that he neither let him stir nor breath.  
Don Quixote cried out, How now, Traitor, rebellest thou against thy natural Lord& Master? presumest thou against him that feeds thee? I neither make King, nor depose King( quoth Sancho) I onely help myself that am mine own Lord: promise me you, Sir, that you will be quiet, and not meddle with whipping of me now, and Ile set you loose and free; and if not, here thou diest, Traitor, enemy to Donna Sancha. Don Quixote promised him, and swore by the life of his thoughts, he would not touch so much as a hair of his head, and that he would leave his whipping himself, to his own free-will and choice when he would.  
Sancho gate up, and went a pretty way from him, and going to lean to another three, he perceived something touch him vpon the head, and lifting up his hands, he lighted on two feet of a man, with hose and shoes on; he quaked for fear, and went to another three, and the like befell him: so he cried out, calling to Don Quixote to help him. Don Quixote did so, and asking him what had befallen him? and why he was afraid? Sancho answered, That all those Trees were full of mens feet and legs. Don Quixote felt them, and fell straight into the account of what they might be, and said to Sancho, Thou needest not fear; for these feet and legs thou feelest and seest not, doubtless are of some free-booters and robbers in troops, that are hanged in these trees; for here the Iustice hangs them by twenty& thirty at a clap, by which I understand that I am near Barcelona: and true it was as he supposed They lifted up their eyes, and to see to, the free-booters bodies hung as if they had been clusters vpon those trees: and by this it waxed day; and if the dead men feared them, no less were they in tribulation with the sight of at least forty live Sbanditi, who hemmed them in vpon a sudden, bidding them in the Catalan tongue, they should be quiet, and stand till their captain came.  
Don Quixote was on foot, his horse unbridled, his Lance set up against a three, finally, void of all defence, and therefore he deemed it best to cross his hands, and hold down his head, reserving himself for a better occasion and coniuncture.  
The theeues came to flay Dapple, and began to leave him nothing he had, either in his Wallets or cloak-bag: and it fell out well for Sancho, for the Dukes Crownes were in a hollow girdle gird to him, and those likewise that he brought from home with him, and for all that, those good fellowes would haue weeded and preached him to the very entrails, if their captain had not come in the Interim, who seemed to bee about thirty yeeres of age, strongly made, and somewhat of a tall stature; his look was solemn, and his complexion swarthy: he was mounted vpon a powerful Horse, with his steel coat on, and four Petronels( called in that Country Pedrenales) which he wore two at each side: and now his Squires( for so they call those that are in that vocation) came to make spoil of Sancho: he commanded them they should not, and he was straight obeied, and so the girdle escaped: he wondered to see a lance reared vpon a three, a shield on the ground, and Don Quixote armed and pensative, with the saddest melancholiest visage, that sadness itself could frame. He came to him, saying, Be not sad, honest man; for you haue not fallen into the hands of any cruel Osiris, but into Roque Guinarts, that haue more compassion then cruelty in them.  
My sadness is not, quoth Don Quixote, to haue fallen into thy power, oh valorous Roque( whose famed is boundless) but that my carelessness was such, that thy Souldiers haue caught me without bridle, I being obliged( according to the order of Knight Errantry, which I profess, to keep watch and ward, and at all houres to be my own sentinel; for let me tell thee, Grand Roque, if they had taken me on horseback with my Lance and Shield, they should not easily haue made me yield; for I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, he, of whose exploits all the world is full. straight Roque Guinart perceived, that Don Quixote's infirmity proceeded rather of madness then Valour, and though he had sometimes heard tell of him, yet he never could beleeue his deeds to be true, neither could he be persuaded that such a humour should reign in any mans heart, and he was wonderfully glad to haue met with him, to see by experience, what he had heard say of him, and therefore he said, Valorous Knight, vex not yourself, neither take this fortune of yours to be sinister; for it may be, that in these stumbling blocks your crooked lot may be straightened, for heaven doth usually raise up those that fall, and enrich the poor by strange and unseen ways( by men not imagined.)  
Don Quixote was about to haue rendered him thankes, when as they perceived a noise behind them, as if there had been some troope of horse, but there was but one onely, vpon which there came with full speed, a Youth to see to, about some twenty yeeres of age, clad in green damask; his Hose and loose jerkin were laid on with gold lace, with a Hat turned up from his band, with close fit boots, sword& dagger gilded, and a little birding-Peece in his hand,& two Pistols at his sides. Roque turned his head to the noise, and saw this beautiful shape, who coming near him, said, In quaest of thee I came, oh valorous Roque, to find in thee, if not redress, at least some lightsomeness in this my misfortune: And to hold thee no longer in suspense, because I know thou knowest me not, I will tell thee who I am; that is, Claudia Ieronima, daughter to Simon fort thy singular friend,& onely enemy to Clanquel Torellas, who is also thine, as being one of thy contrary faction; and thou knowest that this Torellas hath a son, called Don Vincente Torellas, or at least was so called, not two houres since. he then, to shorten my unfortunate tale, I will tell thee in few words what hath befallen me: He saw me, courted me, I gave care to him,& my Father unwitting of it, I affectionated myself to him; for there is no woman, be she never so retired or looked to, but she hath time enough to put in execution and effect her hasty longing.  
Finally, he promised me marriage, and I gave him my word to be his, so no more passed really: Yesterday I came to know, that, forgetful of his obligation, he contracted to another, and that this morning he went to be married; a news that troubled my brain, and made an end of my patience: and by reason my Father was not at home, I had opportunity to put myself in this apparel thou seest, and making speed with this horse, I overtook Don Vincente about a league from hence, and without making any complaint, or hearing his discharge, I discharged this piece, and to boot, these Pistols, and I beleeue I sent two bullets into his body, making way, thorough which, my honor enwrapped in his blood, might sally out: therefore I left him to his seruants, who nor durst, nor could put themselves in his defence. I came to seek thee, that thou mightest help to pass me into France, where I haue kindred, with whom I may live; and withall, to desire thee to defend my Father, that the number of Don Vincentes friends take not a cruel reuenge vpon him.  
Roque wondering at the gallantry, bravery, handsomenesse& success of the faire Claudia, said, Come, Gentlewoman, and let us go see if your enemy be dead, and afterward what shall bee most fitting to be done.  
Don Quixote, that harkened attentively to all that Claudia said, and Roque Guinart answered, said, No man need take pains to defend this Lady; let it be my charge: give me my horse and my arms, and expect me here, and I will go seek this Knight, and alive or dead, will make him accomplish his promise to so great a beauty.  
No man doubt it, quoth Sancho; for my Master hath a very good hand to be a marriage-maker: and not long since he forced another to mary, that denied his promise to a maid; and had it not been that Enchanters persecuted him, and changed the true shape into the shape of a Lackey, by this time the said maid had been none.  
Roque, that attended more to Claudia's success, then the reasons of Master or man, understood them not; and so commanding his Squires, they should restore to Sancho all they had taken from Dapple, and commanding them likewise to retire where he lodged the night before, he went strait with all speed with Claudia, to find the wounded or dead Don Vincente.  
To the place they came, where Claudia met him, where they found nothing but late  shed blood: but looking round about them, they discovered some people vpon the side of a Hill: and they thought, as true it was, that that was Don Vincente, whom his seruants carried alive, or dead; to cure, or give him burial: they hasted to overtake them, which they easily might do, the others going but softly. They found Don Vincente in his seruants arms, whom he entreated with a weak and weary voice to let him die there: for the grief of his wounds would not suffer him to go any further.  
Claudia and Roque flung themselves from their Horses, to him they came, the seruants feared Roques presence; and Claudia was troubled to see Don Vincente: and so betwixt mild and merciless, she came to him, and laying hold of his hands, shee said, If thou hadst given me these according to our agreement, thou hadst never comne to this extremity: The wounded Gentleman opened his halfe-shut eyes, and knowing Claudia, said, I well perceive, faire and deceived Mistris, that thou art shee that hast slain me: a punishment not deserved, nor due to my desires, in which, nor in any action of mine, I never knew how to offend thee.  
Then belike, 'tis false, that thou wentest this morning to bee married to Leonora, the rich Baluasho's daughter.  
No verily, said Don Vincente, my ill fortune brought thee that news, that being jealous thou shouldst bereave me of my life: which since I leave it in thy hands, and embrace thee, I think myself most happy: and to assure thee that this is true, take my hand, and if thou wilt receive me for thy Husband; for I haue no other satisfaction to give thee for the wrong thou thinkest I haue done thee.  
Claudia wrung his hand, and herself was wrung to the very heart; so that vpon Don Vincente's blood and breast, she fell into a swoon, and he into a mortal paroxysm. Roque was in a maze, and knew not what to do. The seruants went to fetch water to fling in their faces,& brought it, with which they bathed them.  
Claudia revived again: but Don Vincente never from his paroxysm, with which he ended his life.  
Which when Claudia saw, out of doubt, that her Husband was dead, shee burst the air with her sighs, and wounded heaven with her complaints: she tore her hair, and gave it to the wind: with her own hands she dis-figured her face, with all the shows of dolour and feeling, that might bee imagined from a grieved heart.  
Oh cruel and inconsiderate Woman( said shee) how easily wast thou moved to put so cruel a design in execution? Oh raving force of iealousy, to what desperate ends dost thou bring those that harbour thee in their breasts? Oh my Spouse, whose unhappy fortune, for being my Pledge, hath brought from bed to burial.  
Such and so sad were the complaints of Claudia, that even from Roques eyes drew tears, not used to  shed them vpon any occasion: the seruants howled, and Claudia every stitch-while swooned, and the whole circuit looked like a field of sorrow, and a place of mis-fortune.  
Finally, Roque Guinart gave order to Don Vincentes seruants, to carry his body to his Fathers town, that was near there, to give him burial. Claudia  told Roque, she would go to a Monastery, where an Aunt of hers was abbess, where she meant to end her dayes, accompanied with a better and an eternal Spouse.  
Rogue commended her good intention, and offered to accompany her whither she would, and to defend her Father, from her kindred, and from all the world that would hurt him.  
Claudia would by no means accept of his company, and thanking him the best she could for his offer, she took leave of him weeping. Don Vincentes seruants bore away his body, and Roque returned to his people: and this was the end of Claudia Ieronima's love: but no marvell if iealousy contrived the plot of her lamentable Story.  
Roque Guinarte found his Squires where he had willed them to be; and Don Quixote amongst them vpon Rosinante, making a large discourse to them, in which he persuaded them to leave that kind of life, dangerous as well for their souls, as bodies: but the most of them being Gascoignes, a wild and unruly people, Don Quixotes discourse prevailed nothing with them.  
When Roque was come, he asked Sancho, if they had restored his implements to him, and the prise which his Souldiers had taken from Dapple. Sancho answered, Yes, onely that he wanted three Night-caps, that were worth three Cities. What say you fellow? Quoth one of them: I haue them, and they were not worth eighteen pence.  
Tis true( said Don Quixote) but my Squire esteems them in what he hath said, for the parties sake that gave them me.  
Roque Guinart strait commanded they should be restored, and commanding his people to stand round, he willed them to set before them, all the apparel, jewels, and money, and all that since their last sharing they had robbed: and casting up the account briefly, returning that that was not to be re-parted; reducing it into money, he divided it amongst al his company, so legally, and wisely, that he neither added nor diminished, from an equal distributive iustice.  
This done, and all contented, satisfied, and paid, Roque said to Don Quixote, If I should not bee thus punctual with these fellowes, there were no living with them: To which said Sancho, By what I haue here seen, Iustice is so good, that it is fit and necessary, even amongst theeues themselves.  
One of the Squires heard him, and lifted up the snap-haunce of his piece, with which he had opened his Mazer, if Roque Guinart had not cried out to bid him hold.  
Sancho was amazed, and purposed not to vnsow his lips, as long as he was in that company.  
Now there came one or more of the Squires, that were put in sentinel, vpon the ways, to see who passed by, and to give notice to their chief, what passed; who said, Sir, not far hence, by the way that goes to Barcelona: there comes a great Troope of people. To which quoth Rogue, Hast thou marked whether they bee of those that seek us, or those wee seek? Of the latter, said the Squire.  
Well, get you out all quoth Roque, and bring vm me hither strait, and let not a man scape. They did so, and Don Quixote and Roque, and Sancho stayed, and expected to see what the Squires brought: and in the Interim, Roque said to Don Quixote, Our life will seem to be a strange kind of one to signor Don Quixotes strange adventures, strange successses, and dangerous all; and I should not wonder that it appear so. For I confess truly to you, there is no kind of life more unquiet, nor more full of fears then ours. I haue fallen into it by I know not what desires of reuenge, that haue power to trouble the most quiet hearts.  
I am naturally compassionate, and well-minded: but as I haue said, the desire of revenging a wrong done me, doth so dash this good inclination in me, that I persevere in this estate, maugre my best iudgement: and as one horror brings on another, and one sin: so my procedings haue been so linked together, that I not onely undergo mine own, but also other mens: but God is pleased, that though I see myself in the midst of this Labyrinth of Confusions, I despair not to come to a safe harbour.  
Don Quixote admired to hear from Roque such good& sound reasons: for he thought, that amongst those of this profession of robbing, killing, and high-way-laying, there could bee none so well spoken, and answered him:  
signor Roque, the beginning of health consists, in knowing the infirmity& that the sick man be willing to take the medicines that the Physician ordains. You are sick: you know your grief and heaven; or( to say truer) God who is our Physician, will apply medicines that may cure you, which do heal by degrees, but not suddenly, and by miracle: besides, sinners that haue knowledge, are nearer amendment then those that are without it: and since you, by your discourse haue shew'd your discretion, there is no more to be done: but bee of good courage, and despair not of the recovering your sick conscience; and if you will save a labour, and facilitate the way of your salvation; come with me, and I will teach you to be a Knight errand, and how you shall undergo so many labours, and mis-aduentures, that taking them by way of penance, you shall climb heaven in an instant.  
Roque laughed at Don Quixotes counsel, to whom( changing their discourse) he recounted the tragical success of Claudia jeronimo: at which Sancho wept exceedingly; for the beauty, spirit, and buck-somenesse of the Wench mis-liked him not.  
By this the Squires returned with their prise, bringing with them, two Gentlemen on horseback, and two Pilgrims on foot, and a Coach full of women, and some half dozen of seruants, that on horseback and on foot, waited on them, with two Mule-men that belonged to the two Gentlemen. The Squires brought them in triumph, the conquerors and conquered, being all silent, and expecting what the Grand Roque should determine: who asked the Gentlemen, who they were, whither they would, and what money they carried: One of them answered him, Sir, Wee two are Captaines of Spanish foot, and haue Companies in Naples, and are going to embark ourselves in four Gallies, that we hear are bound for Silicia: wee carry with us two or three hundreth crownes, which we think is sufficient, as being the largest treasure incident to the ordinary penury of soldiers.  
Roque asked the Pilgrims the same questions, who answered him likewise, that they were to bee embarked towards Rome, and that they carried a matter of thirty shillings between them both: The same he likewise desired to know of those that went in the Coach, and one of them on horseback, answered,  
My Lady Donna Guiomar de Quinnones, wife to a judge of Naples, with a little girl and her Maids, are they that go in the Coach; and some six seruants of us wait on her: and we carry six hundreth Pistolets in gold. So that( said Roque Guinarte) we haue here in all, nine hundreth crownes, and sixty rials: my soldiers are about a sixty; let us see what comes to each mans share: for I am a bad Arithmetician.  
When the Theeues heard this, they cried aloud, Long live Roque Guinarte, in spite of the Cullions that seek to destroy him.  
The Captaines were afflicted, the Lady was sorrowful, and the Pilgrims were never a whit glad, to see their goods thus confiscated. Roque while held them in this suspense: but he would no longer detain them in this sadness, which he might see a gun-shoote off in their faces: and turning to the Captaines, said, Captaines, you shall do me the kindness as to lend me threescore ducats: and you, Madam, fourscore, to content my squadron that follows me: for herein consists my revenue: and so you may pass on freely, onely with a forefeet that I shall give you: that if you meet with any other squadrons of mine, which are divided vpon these downs, they do you no hurt: for my intent is not to wrong soldiers, or any woman, especially Noble.  
The Captaines infinitely extolled Roques courteous liberality for leaving them their money. The Lady would haue cast herself out of the Coach, to kiss the Grand Roques feet& hands: but he would by no means yield to it, rather asked pardon that he had presumed so far, which was only to comply with the obligation of his ill employment.  
The Lady commanded a seruant of hers, to give him strait fourscore ducats, which were allotted him: the Captaines too disbursed their sixty, and the Pilgrims tendered their poverty: but Roque bade them be still: and turning to his people, said, Out of these Crownes, there are to each man two due; and there remain twenty: let the poor Pilgrims haue ten of them, and the other ten this honest Squire, that he may speak well of this adventure: and so bringing him necessaries to writ, of which he ever went provided, he gave them a forefeet to the heads of his squadrons; and taking leave of them, let them pass free: and wondering at the nobleness of his brave and strange condition, holding him rather for a great Alexander, then an open robber: one of the Theeues said in his Catalan language, This captain of ours were fitter to be a friar, then a Robber: and if he mean henceforward to bee so liberal, let it be with his own goods, and not with ours.  
This, the wretch spoken not so softly, but Roque might ouerheare him; who catching his sword in hand, almost cloue his pate in two, saying, This is the punishment I use to saucy knaves: all the rest were amazed, and durst not reply a word: such was the awe in which they stood of him Roque then retired aside, and wrote a Letter to a friend of his to Barselona, advising him how the famous Don Quixote de la Mancha was with him, that Knight errand so notorious: and he gave him to understand, that he was the most conceited understanding fellow in the world: and that about some four dayes after, which was Mid-summer day, he should haue him vpon the city wharf, armed at all points vpon his Horse Rosinante, and his Squire likewise vpon his ass:& that he should let the Niarros his friends know so much, that they might solace themselves with him: but he could wish the Cadels his Aduersaries might want the pastime, that the madness of Don Quixote,& his conceited Squire would make. he delivered the Letter to one of his Squires, who changing his Theeues habit, for a Countreymans, went to the city, and delivered it to whom it was directed.   

CHAP. LXI.  
What happened to Don Quixote at his entrance into Barselona, with other events more true, then witty.  
THree daies& three nights was Don Quixote with Roque,& had he been so 300. yeeres, he should not haue wanted matter to make him see& admire his kind of life: one while here they lie; another, there they dine: sometimes they fly from they know not whom; otherwhile, they wait for they know not whom.  
They sleep standing, a broken sleep, changing from place to place: all was setting of Spies, listening of Sentinels, blowing Musket-matches, though of such shot they had but few: most of them carrying Petronels. Roque himself slept apart from the rest, not letting them know where he lodged; because the many Proclamations which the Vice-Roy of Barselona had caused to be made to take him, made him unquiet and fearful, and so he durst trust no body, fearing his own people would either kill or deliver him to the Iustice: a life indeed wretched,& irksome, at length by byways& cross paths Roque and Don Quixote got to the wharf of Barselona, where Roque gave Sancho the ten crownes he promised him,& so they partend with many compliments on both parts.  
Roque returned, and Don Quixote stayed there, expecting the day just as he was on horseback: and while after, the face of the white Aurora, began to peep thorough the Bay-windowes of the East, cheering the herbs and Flowers, in stead of delighting the ear, and yet at the same instant a noise of Hoboyes and Drums delighted their ears, and a noise of Morris-bells, with the Pat a pat of Horsemen running to see to out of the city.  
Aurora now gave the sun leave to rise out of the lowest part of the East, with his face as big as a Buckler.  
Don Quixote and Sancho spread their eyes round about, and they might see the Sea, which till that time they had never seen: it seemed unto them most large and spacious, more by far then the Lake of Ruydera, which they saw in the Mancha: they beholded the Gallies in the wharf, who clapping down their tilts, discovered themselves full of flags& Streamers, that waued in the wind, and kissed and swept the water: within, the Clarines, Trumpets and Hoboyes sounded, that far and near filled the air with sweet and warlike accents: they began to move, and to make show of skirmish vpon the gentle water; a world of Gallants answering them on Land, which came out of the city vpon goodly Horses, and brave in their liveries.  
The soldiers of the Gallies discharged an infinity of shot, which were answered from the walls and Forts of the city, and the great shot with fearful noise cut the air, which were answered with the Gallies fore-Castle Canons: the Sea was cheerful, the Land jocund, the sky clear, onely somewhat dimmed with the smoke of the Artillery, it seemed to infuse and engender a sudden delight in all men. Sancho could not imagine how those Bulks that moved vpon the Sea could haue so many feet By this, they a-shore in the rich liveries began to run on with their Moorish outcries, even to the very place where Don Quixote was wondering and amazed: and one of them, he who had the Letter from Roque, said to Don Quixote thus aloud, Welcome to our city is the Looking-glasse, the Lant-horne, and north-star of all Knight Errantry, where it is most in practise. Welcome, I say, is the Valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha: not the false, fictitious, or Apocryphal, that hath been demonstrated to us of late in false Histories; but the true, legal, and faithful he, which Cid Hamete the flower of Historians describes unto vs. Don Quixote answered not a word, neither did the Gentlemen expect he should; but turning in and out with the rest, they wheeled about Don Quixote: who turning to Sancho, said, These men know us well: I lay a wager they haue red our History, and that too of the Aragonians lately printed. The Gentleman that spoken to Don Quixote, came back again, and said to him, signor Don Quixote, come with us, I beseech you; for we are all your seruants, and Roque Guinarte's dear friends. To which Don Quixote replied, If courtesies engender courtesies, then yours, Sir Knight, is daughter, or near kindred to Roques: carry me whither you will, for I am wholly yours, and at your service, if you please to command me. In the like Courtly strain, the Gentleman answered him,& so locking him in the midst of them, with sound of Drums and Hoboyes, they carried him towards the City, where at his entrance, as ill lucke would haue it, and the boyes that are the worst of all ill, two of them, bold Cracke-ropes, came among the thrust,& one of them lifting up Dapples tail,& the other Rosinantes, they fastened each their handful of Nettles. The poor beasts felt the new spurs, and clapping their tails close, augmented their pains; so that after a thousand winces, they cast down their Masters.  
Don Quizote all abashed and disgraced, went to take this Plumage from his Coursers tail, and Sancho from Dapples. Those that guided Don Quixote, would haue punished the boyes for their sauciness, but it was not possible; for they got themselves into the thickest of a thousand others that followed. Don Quixote and Sancho returned to their seats, and with the same applause and music, they came to their Guides house, which was faire& large, indeed as was fit for a Gentleman of means; where wee will leave him for the present, because Cid Hamete will haue it so.   

CHAP. LXII.  
The adventure of the Enchanted head, with other flimflams that must be recounted.  
DOn Quixote's Oasts name was Don Antonio Morino, a rich Gentleman and a discreet, and one that loved to be honestly and affably merry; who having Don Quixote now at home, began to invent, how, without prejudice to him, he might divulge his madness; for jests ought not to be too bitter, nor pastimes in detriment of a third person.  
The first thing he did then, was to cause Don Quixote to be unarmed, and to make him appear in that strait Chamois apparel of his( as heretofore we haue painted and described him:) so he brought him to a Bay window which looked toward one of the chiefest streets in the City, to be publicly seen by all comers, and the boyes that beholded him as if he had been a Monkey. They in the liveries began a-fresh to fetch Careeres before him, as if for him onely,( and not to solemnize that festival day) their liveries had been put on: and Sancho was most jocund, as thinking he had found out, he knew not how, nor which way, a new Camacho's marriage, or another house like Don Diego and Miranda's, or the Dukes Castle.  
That day some of Don Antonio's friends dined with him, all honouring Don Quixote, and observing him as a Knight errand: with which, being most vainglorious, he could scarce contain himself in his happiness. Sancho's conceits were such& so many, that all the seruants of the house hung vpon his lips, and as many also as heard him.  
Being at Table, Don Antonio said to Sancho, We haue heard here, honest Sancho, that thou lovest Leech and roasted Oliues so well, that when thou canst eat no more, thou keepest the rest in thy bosom till another time. No, Sir, tis not so, said Sancho, for I am more cleanly then so, and my Master Don Quixote here present knows well, that we are wont both of us to live eight daies with a handful of acorns or Walnuts: true it is, that now and then I look not a given horse in the mouth( I mean) I eat what is given me, and make use of the time present, and whosoever hath said that I am an extraordinary eater, and not cleanly, let him know he doth me wrong; and I should proceed farther, were it not for the company here at Table.  
truly, said Don Quixote, the parsimony and cleanliness with which Sancho feeds, may be written and graved in sheets of brass, that it may be eternally remembered by ensuing Ages: True it is, that when he is hungry, he is somewhat ravenous, eats apace, and chaws on both sides; but for cleanliness, that he hath punctually observed: and when he was a governor, learnt to eat most neatly; for he would eat you Grapes, nay, Pomegranat seeds with his fork. How, quoth Don Antonio, hath Sancho been a governor? I, said Sancho, and of an island called Barataria: ten daies I governed to my will, in them I lost my rest, and learnt to contemn all the governments in the world. From thence I came flying, and fell into a pit, where I thought I should haue died, from whence I escaped miraculously.  
Don Quixote recounted all the particulars of Sancho's government, with which the hearers were much delighted. The cloth now taken away, and Don Antonio taking Don Quixote by the hand, carried him into a private chamber, in which there was no other kind of furniture, but a Table that seemed to bee of jasper, born up with feet of the same, vpon which there was set a Head, as if it been of brass, just as your roman Emperors are used to be, from the breast upward. Don Antonio walked with Don Quixote up and down the chamber, and having gone a good many turns about the Table, at last he said, signor Don Quixote, now that I am fully persuaded no-body hears us, and that the door is fast, I will tell you one of the rarest adventures, or rather novelties, that can be imagined; provided, that what I tell you, shall be deposited in the uttermost privy Chambers of secrecy.  
That I vow, said Don Quixote: and for more safety, I will clap a Tombe-stone over it; for let me tell you, signor Don Antonio( for now he knew his name) you converse with one, that though he haue ears to hear, yet he hath no tongue to tell: so that what is in your breast, you may freely translate it into mine, and rest assured, that you haue flung it into the Abissus of silence.  
In confidence of this promise( answered Don Antonio) I will make you admire at what you shall hear and see, and so you shall somewhat ease me of the trouble I am in, in not finding one that I may communicate my secrets with; with which, every one is not to be trusted.  
Don Quixote was in great suspense, expecting what would be the issue of all these circumstances; so Don Antonio taking him by the hand, he made him feel all over the brazen head& the Table, and jasper feet, and then said, This head, signor, was made by one of the greatest Enchanters or Magicians that hath been in the world, and I beleeue, by Nation he was a Polander, and one of that famous Scotus his disciples, of whom so many wonders are related, who was here in my house, and for a thousand Crownes I gave him, framed me this head, that hath the property and quality to answer to any thing that it is asked in your ear: he had his tricks& devices, his painting of Characters, his observing of stars, looked to every tittle, and finally, brought this head to the perfection that to morrow you shall see, for on the Fridayes still it is mute, which being this day, we must expect till to morrow; and so in the mean time you may bethink you what you will demand; for I know by experience, this head answers truly to all that is asked.  
Don Quixote admired at the virtue and property of the head, and could scarce beleeue Don Antonio, but seeing how short a time there was to the trial, he would not gain-say him, but thanked him for discovering so great a secret: So out of the room they went: Don Antonio locked the door after him, and they came into a Hall where the rest of the Gentlemen were: in this interim, Sancho had related to them many of the adventures& successses that befell his Master. That afternoon they carried Don Quixote abroad, not armed, but clad in the City garb, with a loose coat of tawny cloth, that in that season might haue made frost itself sweat: they gave order to their seruants to entertain Sancho, and not to let him stir out of doors. Don Quixote road not vpon Rosinante, but on a goodly trotting Mule, with good furniture, they put his coat vpon him, and at his back( he not perceiving it) they sowed a piece of Parchment, wherein was written in Text letters, This is Don Quixote de la Mancha: as they began their walk, the scroll drew all mens eyes to look on it, and as they red, This is Don Quixote de la Mancha, he admired to see what a number beholded& name him, and knew him; and turning to Don Antonio that went by him, said, Great is the prerogative due to Knight Errantry, since over all the world, it makes its Professors known and renowned; for look you, signor Don Antonio, even the very boyes of this City having never seen me before, know me. Tis true, signor, quoth Don Antonio: for as fire cannot be hidden nor bounded, no more can virtue but it must be known; and that which is gotten by the profession of arms, doth most flourish and triumph above the rest.  
It happened, that Don Quixote riding with this applause, a Castilian that red the scroll at his back, raised his voice, saying, The devill take thee for Don Quixote de la Mancha: and art thou gotten hither without being killed with those infinite bastings thou hast born vpon thy shoulders? Thou art a mad man, and wert thou so in private, and within thy house, twere less evil; but thy property is, to make all that converse or treat with thee, mad-men and Coxe-combes, as may appear by these that accompany thee: get thee home, idiot, and look to thy Estate, Wife, and Children, and leave these vanities that worm-eate thy brains, and defile thy intellect. Brother, said Don Antonio, follow your way, and give no counsel to those that need it not: signor Don Quixote is wise, and we that do accompany him, are no fools, virtue is worthy to be honoured wheresoever she is, and so be gone with a pox to you, and meddle not where you haue nothing to do. I vow( quoth the Castilian) you haue reason; for to give counsel to this man, is to strive against the stream: but for all that, it pities me very much, that the good understanding they say this blocke-head hath in all things else, should be let out at the pipe of his Knight Errantry, and a pox light on me( as you wish, Sir) and all my posterity, if from hence forward, though I should live to the yeeres of Methusalem, I give counsel to any, though it be desired.  
Thus the counsellor went by, and the show went on: but the boyes, and all manner of people pressed so thick to read the scroll, that Don Antonio was forced to take it off from him, as if he had done something else.  
The night came on, and they returned home, where was a bowels of women: for Don Antonio's wife, that was well bread, mirthful, faire, and discreet, invited other shee-friends of hers, to come to welcome her new guest, and to make merry with his strange madness. Some of them came, and they had a royal Supper, and the bowels began about ten a clock at night. Among these Dames, there were two of anotable waggish disposition, and great scoffers; and though honest, yet they strained their carriage, that their tricks might the better delight without yrksomnes; these were so eager to take Don Quixote out to dance, that they wearied not onely his body, but his mind likewise: twas a goodly sight to see his shape, long, lank, lean, his visage pale, the whole man shut up in his apparel, vngracefull, and unwieldy. The Damozels wooed him as it were by stealth, and he by stealth disdained them as fast; but seeing himself much pressed by their courtings, he lifted up his voice, and said, Fugite partes aduersae, and leave me, oh unwelcome imaginations, to my quiet: Get you further off with your wishes, Ladies; for she that is the Lady of mine, the peerless Dulcinea deal Toboso, will haue none but hers subject and conquer me: and so saying, he sate him down in the midst of the Hall vpon the ground, bruised and broken with his dancing exercise. Don Antonio made him be taken up in mens arms,& carried to bed; the first that laid hold on him was Sancho, saying, In the name of God, what meant you, Master mine, to dance? think you that all that are valiant, must be dancers? and all Knights errand, skipiacks? I say, if you think so, you are deceived; you haue some that would rather kill giants then fetch a caper: if you were to frisk, I would save you that labour, for I can do it like a Ier-Falcon: but in your dancing, I cannot work a stitch.  
With this and such like discourse, Sancho made the Reuellers laugh, and laid his Master to bed, laying clothes enough on him, that he might sweat out the could he had taken by dancing.  
The next day, Don Antonio thought fit to try the Enchanted head, and so, with Don Quixote, Sancho, and others his friends, and the two Gentlewomen that had so laboured Don Quixote in the dance, that stayed all night with Don Antonio's wife, he locked himself in the room where the head was; he  told them it's property, enjoining them to silence: and he said to them, That this was the first time in which he meant to make proof of the virtue of the Enchanted head, and except his two friends, no living creature else knew the trick of that Enchantment; and if Don Antonio had not discovered it to them, they also would haue fallen into the same admiration that the rest did; for it was not otherwise possible, the fabric of it being so curious and cunning.  
The first that came to the Heads hearing, was Don Antonio himself, who spoken softly, but so, that he might be heard by all: Tell me, Head, by the virtue that is contained in thee, What think I of now? And the head answered( not moving the lips, with a loud and distinct voice, that all the by-standers might hear this reason,) I judge not of thoughts. Which when they all heard, they were astonished, and the more, seeing neither in all the room, nor any where about the table, there was not any human creature to answer. How many here be there of us( quoth Don Antonio again?) And answer was made him in the same tenor voice: There are thou and thy wife, with two of thy hee-friends, and two of her shee-friends, and a famous Knight called Don Quixote de la Mancha, and a Squire of his that hight Sancho Pansa. I mary, sir, here was the wondering a-fresh, here was every ones hair standing on end with pure horror. And Don Antonio getting him aside from the head, said, Tis enough now for me to know that I was not deceived by him that sold thee me, Sage Head, Talking Head, Answering Head, Admired Head! Come another now,& ask what he will:& as your women for the most part are hastiest,& most inquisitive, the first that came, was one of Don Antonio's wives friends, and her demand was this, Tell me, Head, What shall I do to make myself faire? The answer was, Be honest. I haue done, said she. straight came her other companion, and said, I would fain know, Head, whether my Husband love me or no: and the answer was, Thou shalt know by his usage. The married woman stood by, saying; The question might haue been spared: for good usage is the best sign of affection. Then came one of Don Antonio's friends, and asked, Who am I? The answer was, Thou knowest. I ask thee not that said the Gentleman, but whether thou know me? I do, it was answered; Thou art Don Pedro Noris. No more, O Head, let this suffice, to make me know thou knowest all. And so stepping aside, the other friend came and asked, Tell me, Head, What desires hath my eldest son? I haue  told you( it was answered) that I judge not of thoughts; yet let me tell you, your son desires to bury you; That( quoth the Gentleman) I know well, and daily perceive, but I haue done. Don Antonio's wife came next, and said, Head, I know not what to ask thee, I would onely fain know of thee, if I shall long enjoy my dear Husband: and the answer was, Thou shalt, for his health and spare diet promise him many yeeres, which many shorten by distempers.  
Now came Don Quixote, and said, Tell me, thou that answerest, Was it true, or a dream, that( as I recount) befell me in Montesino's cave? shall Sancho my Squires whipping be accomplished? shall Dulcinea be dis-enchanted? For that of the cave,( quoth the Answerer) there is much to be said, it partakes of all: Sancho's whipping shall be prolonged: but Dulcinea's dis-enchanting shall come to a real end. I desire no more, said Don Quixote; for so Dulcinea be dis-enchanted, I make account, all my good fortunes come vpon me at a clap.  
Sancho was the last Demander, and his question was this; Head, shall I haply haue another government? shall I be free from this penurious Squires life? shall I see my Wife and Children again? To which it was answered him: In thy house shalt thou govern; whither if thou return, thou shalt see thy Wife and children, and leaving thy service, thou shalt leave being a Squire. Very good( quoth Sancho) this I could haue  told before myself, and my fathers horse could haue said no more. Beast, quoth Don Quixote, what answer wouldst thou haue? Is it not enough, that the answers this head gives thee, are correspondent to thy questions? Tis true, said Sancho: but I would haue known more.  
And now the questions and answers were ended: but not the admiration, in which all remained, but Don Antonio's friends that knew the conceit. Which Cid Hamete Benengeli would forthwith declare, not to hold the world in suspense, to think that some hodge-podge, or extraordinary mystery was enclosed in the said head: and thus saith he, that Don Antonio Moreno, in imitation of another head, which he saw in Madrid, framed by a carver, caused this to be made in his house, to entertain the simplo, and make them wonder at it, and the fabric was in this manner:  
The table itself was of wood, painted and varnished over like jasper, and the foot on which it stood was of the same, with four Eagles claws standing out to uphold it the better.  
The head that shewed like the medal, or picture of a roman Emperour, and of brass colour, was all hollow, and so was the Table too; to which, it was so cunningly joined, that there was no appearance of it: the foot of the Table was likewise hollow, that answered to the breast, and neck of the head: and all this answered to another Chamber, that was under the room where the head was: and thorough all this hollowness of the foot, the table, breast and neck of the medal, there went a tin pipe, made fit to them, that could not be perceived.  
He that was to answer, set his mouth to the Pipe in the Chamber underneath, answering to this vpper room; so that the voice ascended, and descended, as thorough a Trunk, clearly and distinctly, and it was not possible to find the juggling out.  
A Nephew of Don Antonio's; a scholar, a good witty and discreet Youth, was the answerer: who having notice from his uncle, of those that were to enter the room, it was easy for him to answer suddenly, and punctually, to their first questions, and to the rest he answered by discreet conjectures.  
moreover, Cid Hamete says, that this marvelous Engine lasted for some ten or twelve dayes: but when it was divulged up and down the city, that Don Antonio had an Enchanted head in his house, that answered to all questions; fearing lest it should come to the notice of the waking sentinels of our Faith: having acquainted those Inquisitors with the business, they commanded him to make away with it, lest it should scandalise the ignorant Vulgar: but yet in Don Quixote and Sancho's opinion the head was still enchanted, and answering: but indeed not altogether so much to Sancho's satisfaction.  
The Gallants of the city, to please Don Antonio, and for Don Quixote's better hospitality, and on purpose that his madness might make the more general sport, appointed a running at the Ring, about a six dayes after, which was broken off vpon an occasion that after happened.  
Don Quixote had a mind to walk round about the city on foot; fearing, that if he went on horseback, the Boyes would persecute him: so he& Sancho, with two seruants of Don Antonio's, went a walking. It happened, that as they passed throow one street, Don Quixote looked up, and saw written vpon a door in great Letters, here are books printed, which pleased him wondrously; for till then he had never seen any press; and he desired to know the manner of it.  
In he went, with all his retinue, where he saw in one place drawing of sheets, in another Correcting, in this Composing, in that mending: Finally, all the Machine that is usual in great Presses.  
Don Quixote came to one of the Boxes, and asked what they had in hand there? The Workmen  told him: he wondered and passed further. To another he came, and asked one that was in it, what he was doing? The workman answered, Sir, This Gentleman you see;( and he shewed him a good comely proper man, and somewhat ancient) hath translated an Italian book into Spanish; and I am composing of it here to be printed.  
What is the name of it( quoth Don Quixote?) To which( said the Author) Sir, it is called Le Bagatele, to wit, in Spanish, The Trifle: and though it bear but a mean name, yet it contains in it many great and substantial matters.  
I understand a little Italian, said Don Quixote, and dare venture vpon a Stanzo of Ariosto's: but tell me, signor mine( not that I would examine your skill, but onely for curiosity:) haue you ever found set down in all your writing, the word Pinnata? Yes, often quoth the Author: and how translate you it, said Don Quixote?  
How should I translate it, said the Author, but in saying, Potage-Pot? Body of me( said Don Quixote) and how forward are you in the Italian idiom? Ile lay a good wager that where the Italian says, Piaccie, you translate it, Please; and where Piu, you say, more, and Su, is above; and Giu, beneath.  
Yes indeed do, I said the Author: for these be their proper significations.  
I dare swear( quoth Don Quixote) you are not known to the world, which is always backward in rewarding flourishing wits, and laudable industry: Oh what a company of rare abilities are lost in the world! What wits cubbed up, what virtues contemned: but for all that, me thinks this translating from one language into another( except it be out of the queens of Tongues, greek and latin) is just like looking vpon the wrong side of Arras-Hangings: that although the Pictures be seen, yet they are full of thread ends, that darken them, and they are not seen with the plainness& smoothness, as on the other side; and the translating out of easy languages, argues neither wit, nor elocution, no more then doth the copying from out of one paper into another: yet I infer not from this, that translating is not a laudable exercise: for a man may be far worse employed, and in things less profitable.  
I except amongst Translators our two famous ones: the one, Doctor Christoual de Figneroa in his Pastor fido, and the other, Don John de Xaurigni, in his Amyntas, where they haply leave it doubtful, which is the Translation or original. But tell me, Sir, Print you this book vpon your own charge, or sell you your licence to some Booke-binder? Vpon mine own, said the Author, and I think to get a thousand crownes by it at least, with this first impression: for there will be two thousand Copies, and they will vent at three shillings apiece roundly.  
You understand the matter well, said Don Quixote: it seems you know not the passages of Printers, and the correspondencies they haue betwixt one and the other: I promise you, that when you haue two thousand Copies lying by you, you'll be so troubled, as passeth; and the rather, if the book be but a little dull, and not conceited all thorough.  
Why, would you haue me( quoth the Author) let a Bookeseller haue my Licence, that would give me but a halfpenny a sheet, and that thinks he doth me a kindness in it too? I print not my works to get famed in the world: for I am by them well known in it, I must haue profit; for without that, famed is not worth a rush.  
God sand you good lucke, said Don Quixote; so he passed to another Box, where he saw some correcting a sheet of a Book, entitled, The Light of the soul: and in seeing it, he said, Such books as these( though there be many of them) ought to bee imprinted: for there be many sinners, and many lights are needful, for so many be darkened.  
he went on, and saw them correcting another book; and inquiring the Title, they answered him, that it was called, The second part of the Ingenious Knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, made by such a one, an Inhabitant of Tordesillas.  
I haue notice of this Book, said Don Quixote, and in my conscience, I thought before now, it had been burnt and turned to ashes for an idle Pamphlet: but it will not, like Hogs, 
Against that Saints day is Hogs fearing.  want it's Saint Martin: for your feigned Histories are so much the more good and delightful, by how much they come near the truth, or the likeness of it: and the true ones are so much the better, by how much the truer; and saying thus, with some shows of distaste, he left the press: and that very day Don Antonio purposed to carry him to the Gallies, that were in the wharf: at which Sancho much reioyced; for he had never in his life seen any.  
Don Antonio gave notice to the general of the Gallies, that in the afternoon he would bring his guest, the famous Don Quixote de la Mancha, to see them: of whom all the city by this time had notice. And in the next Chapter, what happened to him, shall be declared.   

CHAP. LXIII.  
Of the ill chance that befell Sancho at his seeing the Gallies, with the strange adventure of the Morisca.  
GReat were the Discourses that Don Quixote framed to himself, touching the answers of the Enchanted head, but none of them fell into the Imposture, and all concluded in the promise, which he held for certain, of the dis-enchantment of Dulcinea: there his blood flowed within him, and he reioyced within himself, believing he should soon see the accomplishment of it: and Sancho, though( as hath been said) he abhorred to be a governor, yet he desired to bear sway again, and to bee obeied: for such is the desire of rule, though it be but in iest.  
In conclusion, that afternoon Don Antonio Moreno their host, with his two friends, Don Quixote and Sancho, went to the Gallies. The general, who had notice of their coming, as soon as they were come near the Sea side, made all the Gallies strike their Tilt-sayles, and the Hoboyes sounded, and they launched a Cock-boat to the water, which was all covered with rich clothes, and Cushions of crimson velvet: and just as Don Quixote entred into it, the admiral galley discharged her fore-Castle piece; and the rest of the Gallies likewise did the same: and as Don Quixote mounted at the right side Ladder, all the fry of the slaves, as the custom is when any man of quality enters the galley, cried, Hu, Hu, Hu, thrice a-row.  
The general, who was a man of quality, a Valencian Gentleman, gave him his hand:& being entred, embraced him, saying, This day will I mark with a white ston, for one of the best that shall haue befallen me in all my life time: having seen signor Don Quixote de la Mancha: the time and signs that appear in him, showing that all the worth of a Knight errand, is contained and summed up in him. With the like courteous phrase, replied Don Quixote, jocund above measure, to see himself so Lord-like treated withall.  
They all went a-Sterne, which was very well dressed up, and they sate vpon the rails. The Boat-Swaine got him to the fore-Castle, and gave warning with his whistle to the slaves, to dis-robe themselves: which was done in an instant.  
Sancho that saw so many naked men, was astonished: and the more, when he saw them hoist up their Tilt so speedily, that he thought all the divels in Hell laboured there. Sancho sate vpon the Pilots seat, near the hindermost Rower, on the right hand: who being instructed what he should do, laid hold on Sancho: and so lifting him up, passed him to another; and the second to a third: so the whole rabble of the slaves, beginning from the right side, passed and made him vault from one seat to another so violently, that poor Sancho lost his sight; and undoubtedly believed, that the Fiends of hell carried him; and they gave him not over, till they had passed him over all the left side too, and then set him again on the stern: so the poor soul was sore bruised, and bemauled, and scarce imagined what had happened to him.  
Don Quixote, that saw this flight of Sancho's without wings, asked the general if those were Ceremonies, that were used to such as came newly into the galley? for if they were, that he who intended not to profess in them, liked no such pastime: and he vowed to God, that if any came to lay hold on him, to make him tumble, he would kick out his soul: and in so saying, he stood up, and grasped his sword.  
At this instant they let down the Tilt again, and with a terrible noise let fall the Maine-yard, so that Sancho thought heaven was off the hinges, and fell vpon his head, which he crouched together, and clapped it for fear betwixt his legs. Don Quixote was not altogether as he should be: for he began to quake and shrink up his shoulders, and grew pale. The slaves hoisted the Maine-yard with the same fury and noise that they had formerly strooke it with, and all with such silence, as if they had had neither voice nor breath. The Boate-Swaine made signs to them, to weigh Anchor:& leaping toward the forecastle, in the midst of them, with his whip or Buls-Pizzle, he began to fly-flap their shoulders.  
When Sancho saw such a company of read feet move at once: for such he guessed, the oars to be, he said to himself, I mary, here bee things truly enchanted, and not those my Master speaks of. What haue these unhappy souls committed, that they are thus lashed? and how dares this fellow that goes whistling up and down alone, whip so many? Well, I say, This is Hell, or purgatory at least.  
Don Quixote, that saw with what attention Sancho beholded all that passed, said, Ah friend, Sancho, how speedily, and with how little cost might you, if you would, take off your dubler, and clap yourself amongst these fellowes, and make an end of dis-enchanting Dulcinea? For having so many companions in misery, you would not be so sensible of pain: and besides, it might be, that the sage Merlin might take every one of these lashes, being well laid on for ten.  
The general would haue asked what lashes those were, and what dis-enchantment of Dulcinea's: when a mariner cried out, Momiri, makes signs that there is a vessel, with oars towards the West-side of the cost.( Which said) The general leaped vpon the fore-Castle, and cried, go to, my Hearts, let her not scape: this Boat, that our watch-tower discovers, is some frigate of algiers Pirates.  
And now the three other Gallies came to their admiral, to know what they should do. The General commanded that two of them should launch to the Sea: and he with the other would go betwixt Land and Land, that so the vessel might not escape them.  
The slaves rowed hard, and so furiously drove on the Gallies, as if they had flown: and those that launched first into the Sea, about a two miles off discovered a vessel, which in sight they marked to haue about a fourteen or fifteen oars, as it fell out to be true: which vessel, when she discovered the Gallies, she put herself in chase; hoping by her swiftness to escape: but it prevailed nothing; for the Admiral galley was one of the swiftest vessels that sailed in the Sea, and so got of the other, so much, that they in the frigate plainly saw, that they could not escape; and so the Master of her would haue had them forsaken their oars, and yielded, for fear of offending our general: but fate that would haue it otherwise, so disposed the matter, that as the admiral came on so nigh, that they in the bark might hear a cry from the galley that they should yield: two Toraquis, that is, two drunken Turkes, that were in the frigate with twelve others, discharged two Calieuers, with which they killed two soldiers, that stood abaft our galley. Which when our general saw, he vowed not to leave a man a live in the vessel: and coming in great fury to grapple with her, shee escaped under the Gallies oars: the galley passed forward a pretty way: they in the vessel saw themselves gone, and began to set sail, and to fly afresh, as they saw the galley coming on them: but their industry did them not so much good, as their presumption, hurt: for the admiral ouertaking them within one half mile, clapped his oars on the vessel, and so took her and every man a live in her.  
By this the two other Gallies came, and all four returned to the wharf with their prise, where a world of people expected them, desirous to see what they brought: the general cast Anchor near Land,& perceived that the Vice-Roy of the city was on the shore; he commanded that a Cock-boat should be launched to bring him; and that they should strike the Maine-yard, to hang presently the Master of the frigate, and the rest of the Turkes that they had taken in her, which were about six and thirty persons; all goodly men, and most of them Turkish shot.  
The general asked, who was Master of the bark? and answer was made him by one of the captives in Spanish,( who appeared after to bee a run-agate Spaniard:) This Youth you see here is our Master: and he shewed him one of the goodliest comely Youths that could be deciphered by human imagination.  
He was not to see too, above twenty yeeres of age: the general asked, Tell me ill-aduised dog, what moved thee to kill my Souldiers, since thou sawest it was impossible to escape? is this the respect due to Admirals? Knowest not thou that rashness is not valour? doubtful hopes may make men bold, but not desperate.  
The Master would haue replied, but the General could not as yet give him the hearing, by reason of his going to welcome the Viceroy aboard, who entred now the galley with some seruants of his, and others of the City.  
You haue had a pretty chase on't, my Lord general, said the Viceroy. So pretty, said the general, that your Excellency shall see it hanged up at the Maine-yard. How so( quoth the Viceroy?) Why, they haue killed me( said he) against all Law of arms, reason, or custom of Warres, two of the best Souldiers I had in my Gallies, and I haue sworn to hang them all, especially this youth; the Master of the frigate and he shewed him one that had his hands bound,& the halter about his neck, expecting his death. The Viceroy beholded him, and seeing him so comely, hand some, and so humble withall, his beauty giuing him in that instant, as it were, a Letter of recommendation, the Viceroy had a mind to save him, and therefore asked;  
Tell me, Master, art thou a turk born, or a Moore, or a Runn-agate?  
To which the Youth answered him in his own language, neither of all. Why, what art thou, quoth the Viceroy? A Christian woman, said the young man. A Woman, and a Christian in this habit, in these employments? a thing rather to bee wondered at, then believed. My Lords, I beseech you quoth the Youth, let my execution be a little deferred, whilst I recount my life. What heart so hard that would not be softened with that reason, at least to hear the sad and grieved Youth, to tell his story? The general bad him proceed, but that there was no hope for him of pardon for his notorious offence. So the Youth began in this manner: Of that lineage, more unhappy then wise, on which a Sea of misfortunes in these latter times haue rained, am I, born of Moriscan Parents, and in the current of their misery, was carried by two of my Vncles into Barbary; it nothing auailing me to say I was a Christian, as I am indeed, and not seeming so, as many of us; but truly catholic: but this truth prevailed nothing with the Officers that had charge given them to look to our banishment, neither would my Vncles beleeue I was a Christian, but that it was a trick of mine to stay in my native Country: and so rather forcibly, then by my consent, they carried me with them. My Mother was a Christian, and my Father discreet, and so likewise I sucked the catholic faith in my milk: I was well brought up,& neither in my language or fashion, made show to be a Morisca. With these virtues, my beauty( if so be I haue any) increased also, and though my restraint and retirement was great, yet it was not such, but that a young Gentleman, called Don Gaspar Gregorio had gotten a sight of me: This Gentleman was son and heir to a Knight that lived near to our town; he saw me, and we had some speech; and seeing himself lost to me, but I not won by him, twere large to tell, especially fearing that as I am speaking, this halter must throttle me: yet I say, that Don Gregorio would needs accompany me in my banishment, and so mingling himself with Moriscos that came out of other places( for he understood the language well) in our voyage he got acquainted with my two Vncles that went with me; for my Father, wisely, when he heard the Edict of our banishment, went out of our town, and went to seek some place in a foreign Country, where we might be entertained; and he left many pearls, precious stones, and some money in double Pistolets hidden in a secret place( which I onely know of) but he commanded me, by no means to meddle with it, if we were banished before his return. I did so, and with my Vncles and others of our kindred, passed into Barbary, and our resting-place was algiers, I might haue said, Hell. The King there, had notice of my beauty, and likewise that I was rich, which partly fell out to be my happiness. He sent for me, and asked me of what part of spain I was, and what money and jewels I brought? I  told him the place, but that my jewels and moneys were butted: but that they might easily be had, if I might but go thither for them. All this I said, hoping his own covetousness would more blind him then my beauty.  
whilst we were in this discourse, they  told him there came one of the goodliest faire Youths with me that could be imagined. I thought presently it was Don Gregorio they meant, whose comeliness is not to be paralleled. It troubled me to think in what danger he would be; for those barbarous Turkes do more esteem a handsome boy, then a woman, be shee never so faire. The King commanded strait, that he should be brought before him, that he might see him, and asked me if it were true they said of the Youth. I  told him Yes( and it seemed heaven put it into my head) but that he was no man, but a woman as I was, and I desired him he would give me leave to cloath her in her natural habit, that her beauty might appear to the full, and that otherwise too, she would be too shamefast before him. he bad me do so, and that on the morrow he would give order for my return to spain to seek the hidden Treasure. I spoken with Don Gaspar, and  told him what danger he had been in by being a man: so I clad him like a Moorish woman, and that afternoon brought him to the Kings presence, who seeing him, admired at her beauty, and thought to reserve him,& to sand him for a Present to the Grand signor:& so to avoid the danger in his Serraglio of women if he put her there, he commanded her to be kept in a house of certain Moorish Gentlewomen, whither he was carried. How this troubled us both( for I cannot deny that I love him) let them consider that haue been absent from their Loues. The King gave order then, that I should come for spain in this frigate,& that these two Turks that killed your Souldiers, should accompany me, and this renegade Spaniard, pointing to him that had first spoken, who I know is in heart a Christian, and hath a greater desire to remain here, then to return into Barbarie, the rest are Moores and Turkes that onely serve for Rowers. The two covetous and insolent Turkes, not respecting the order we had, that they should set me and this runagate Spaniard on the first shore, in the habits of Christians( of which we were provided) would needs first scour the cost,& take some prise, if they could, fearing that if they first should set us on land, by some mischance we might discover the frigate to be vpon the cost: so that they might be taken by the Gallies, and ouernight we descried this wharf, and not knowing of these four Gallies, we were discovered, and this hath befallen us that you haue seen. In fine, Don Gregorio remaines in his womans habit amongst women, in manifest danger of his destruction, and I am here prisoner, expecting, or to say truer, fearing the losing of my life, which notwithstanding wearies me. This, Sirs, is the conclusion of my lamentable History, as true as unfortunate: my request is, that I may die a Christian, since( as I haue said) I am not guilty of that crime into which the rest of my Nation haue fallen: and with this she broken off, her eyes pregnant with tears, which were accompanied with many from the standards by also.  
The Viceroy, all tender and compassionate, came to her, and undid the Cord that bound the Moores faire hands. In the mean time, whilst this Christian Morisca related her story, an ancient Pilgrim that entred the galley, had his eyes fastened vpon her; and she had no sooner ended her discourse, when he cast himself at her feet, and embracing them with interrupted words, sighs, and sobs, said, Oh my unfortunate daughter Ana Felix, I am Ricote thy Father, that haue returned to seek thee, as not being able to live without thee; for thou art my very soul. At these words Sancho opened his eyes, and lifted up his head( which he held down, thinking vpon his ill-favoured tossing in the galley) and beholding the Pilgrim, knew him to be the same Ricote that he met the same day he left his government, and it appeared she was his daughter, when being unbound, she embraced her Father, mingling her tears with his. Then said he to the General and Viceroy, This, my Lords, is my daughter, more unhappy in her success, then in her name, as famous for beauty, as I for wealth. I left my Country, to find a resting-place in some strange Country, and having found one in Germany, returned in this pilgrims weed in company of other germans to seek my daughter, and to dig out my hidden treasure, but found not her, and the treasure I bring with me, and now by strange chance haue lighted on my greatest treasure, that is, my beloved daughter: if so be our small offence,& her tears and mine together, with the integrity of your Iustice, may open the gates of mercy, show it us, that never had so much as a thought once to offend you, nor conspired with those of out own lineage who were justly banished. Then said Sancho, I know Ricote well, and know all is true he saith, concerning that Ana Felix is his daughter, but for other flim-slams, whether he had a good or bad intention, I intermeddle not.  
The by-standers wondering all at this accident, the general said, Well, your tears will not let me accomplish my vow: live, faire Ana Felix, as long as heaven will give thee leave, and let those rash slaves die that committed the fault: so he commanded that the two Turkes that had killed his two Souldiers, should presently be hanged vpon the main yard: but the Vice-roy desired him earnestly not to hang them, since they had shewed more madness then valour. The general condescended, for reuenge is not good in could blood; and strait they contrived how to get Don Gregorio free. Ricote offered two thousand Ducats he had in pearls and jewels towards it: Many means were thought on, but none so good, as that of the Renegado Spaniard that was mentioned, who offered to return to algiers in some small bark, onely with some six Christian oars; for he knew where, how, and when he might dis-embarke himself,& the house also where Don Gaspar was. The general and Viceroy were in some doubt of him, or to trust him with the Christians that should row with him. But Anna Felix undertook for him, and Ricoto offered to ransom the Christians if they were taken. And being agreed, the Vice-roy went ashore, and Don Antonio Moreno carried the Morisca and her Father with him, the Vice-roy enjoining him to use them as well as possibly he might, and offered him the command of any thing in his house toward it. Such was the charity and benevolence that the beauty of Ana Felix had infused into his breast.   

CHAP. LXIIII.  
Of an adventure that most perplexed Don Quixote, of any that hitherto befell him.  
THe History says, that Don Antonio Morenos wife took great delight to see Ana Felix in her house: shee welcomed her most kindly, enamoured as well on her goodness, as beauty and discretion; for in all, the Morisca was exquisite, and all the City came( as if by a warning bell) to see her. Don Quixote  told Don Antonio, that they took a begging course for the freeing of Don Gregorio, which was more dangerous then convenient, and that it had been better, that he were set on shore in Barbary with his Horse and arms; for that he would deliver him in spite of the whole Moorisme there, as Don Gayferos had done his Spouse Melisendra.  
look you, Sir, said Sancho, when he heard this, Don Gayferos brought his Spouse through firm Land, and so carried her into France; but here, though wee should deliver Don Gregorio, we haue no means to bring him into spain, the Sea being betwixt us and home.  
There is a remedy for every thing but Death, said Don Quixote; for tis but having a bark ready at the Sea side, and in spite of all the world we may embark ourselves.  
You do prettily facilitate the matter, said Sancho, but tis one thing to say, and another to do: and I like the runagate, for me thinks he is a good honest plain fellow. Don Antonio said, that if the runagate performed not the business, that then the Grand Don Quixote should pass over into Barbary. Some two daies after, the runagate embarked in a little boat with six oars on a side, manned with lusty tall fellowes, and two daies after that, the Gallies were Eastward bound; the general having requested the Viceroy, that he would be pleased to let him know the success of Don Gregorio's liberty,& likewise of Ana Felix. The Viceroy promised to fulfil his request.  
And Don Quixote going out one morning to take the air vpon the wharf, armed at all points; for as he often used to say, his arms were his ornaments, and to skirmish his delight, and so he was never without them; he saw a Knight come toward him, armed from top to to, carrying vpon his shield a bright shining moon painted, who coming within distance of hearing, directing his voice to Don Quixote aloud, said, Famous Knight, and never sufficiently extolled Don Quixote de la Mancha, I am the Knight of the white moon, whose renowned deeds perhaps thou hast heard of: I am come to combat with thee, and by force of arms to make thee know and confess, that my mistress, be she whom she will, is without comparison fairer then thy Dulcinea deal Toboso; which truth if thou plainly confess, thou shalt save thy life, and me a labour in taking it: and if thou fight, and that I vanquish thee, all the satisfaction I will haue, is, that thou forsake thy arms, and leave seeking adventures, and retire thyself to thy home for the space of one whole year, where thou shalt live peaceable and quietly, without laying hand to thy sword, which befits thy estate, and also thy souls health: and if thou vanquish me, my head shall be at thy mercy, and the spoils of my Horse and armor shall be thine, and also the famed of my exploits shall pass from me to thee: Consider what is best to be done, and answer me quickly, for I haue onely this daies respite to dispatch this business.  
Don Quixote was astonished and in suspense, as well at the Knight of the white moon his arrogance, as the cause of it, for which he challenged him, and so with a quiet and stayed demeanour answered him;  
Knight of the white moon, whose exploits hitherto I haue not heard of, I dare swear thou never sawest the famous Dulcinea; for if thou hadst, I know thou wouldst not haue entred into this demand: for her sight would haue confirmed, that there neither hath been, nor can be a beauty to be compared with hers: and therefore not to say you lie, but that you err in your proposition, I accept of your challenge, with the aforesaid conditions; and straight, because your limited day shall not pass, and I onely except against one of your conditions, which is, that the famed of your exploits pass to me, for I know not what kind of ones yours be, and I am content with mine own such as they be: begin you then your career when you will, and I will do the like, and God and S. George.  
The Viceroy had notice of this, and thought it had been some new adventure plotted by Don Antonio Moreno, or some other Gentleman: and so out of the City he went with Don Antonio,& many other Gentlemen that accompanied him to the wharf, just as Don Quixote was turning Rosinantes reins to take up as much ground as was fit for him. When the Vice-roy saw in both of them signs to encounter, he put himself betwixt them,& asked what was the cause of their single combat. The Knight of the white moon answered him, that it was about a precedency in beauty, and briefly repeated what he had formerly done to Don Quixote, together with the conditions accepted by both parties.  
The Vice-roy came to Don Antonio, and asked him in his ear, if he knew that Knight of the white moon, or if it were some trick they meant to put vpon Don Quixote?  
Don Antonio made answer, that he neither knew the Knight, or whether the Combat were in iest or earnest.  
This answer made the Vice-roy doubt whether he should let them proceed to the Combat; but being persuaded that it could not be but a iest, he removed, saying; Sir Knights, if there be no remedy but to confess or die,& that signor Don Quixote be obstinate, and you Knight of the white moon, more so then he, God haue mercy on you, and too't.  
The Knight of the white-Moone most courteously thanked the Vice-roy for the licence he gave them, and Don Quixote too did the like; who hearty recommending himself to heaven, and his Mistris Dulcinea( as he used vpon all such occasions) he turned about to begin his career, as his enemy had done, and without Trumpets sound, or of any other warlike instrument that might give them signal for the onset: they both of them set spurs to their Horses, and the Knight of the white-Moones being the swifter, met Don Quixote ere he had ran a quarter of his career so forcibly( without touching him with his Lance, for it seemed he carried it aloft on purpose) that he tumbled horse and man both to the ground, and Don Quixote had a terrible fall: so he got strait on the top of him; and clapping his launces point vpon his Visor, said, You are vanquished, Knight, and a dead man, if you confess not, according to the conditions of our combat. Don Quixote all bruised and amazed, without heaving up his Visor, as if he had spoken out of a tomb, with a faint and weak voice, said, Dulcinea deal Toboso is the fairest woman in the world, and I the vnfortunatest Knight on earth; and it is not fit that my weakness defraud this truth: thrust your Lance into me, Knight, and kill me, since you haue bereaved me of my honour. Not so truly, quoth he of the white-Moone, let the famed of my Lady Dulcinea's beauty live in her entireness: I am onely contented that the Grand Don Quixote retire home for a year, or till such time as I please, as we agreed, before we began the battle.  
All this, the Vice-Roy with Don Antonio and many others standing by heard; and Don Quixote answered, that so nothing were required of him in prejudice of his Lady Dulcinea, he would accomplish all the rest, like a true and punctual Knight.  
This Confession ended, the Knight of the white-Moone turned his Horse, and making a low obey sance on horseback to the Vice-Roy, he road a false gallop into the city. The Viceroy willed Don Antonio to follow him, and to know by all means who he was.  
Don Quixote was lifted up, and they discovered his face, and found him discoloured and in a could sweat. Rosinante out of pure hard handling, could not as yet stir.  
Sancho all sad and sorrowful knew not what to do or say, and all that had happened, to him seemed but a dream: and all that Machine, a matter of Enchantment: he saw his Master was vanquished, and bound not to take arms for a year. Now he thought the light of his glory was eclipsed, the hopes of his late promises were undone, and partend as smoke with wind; he feared lest Rosinante's bones were broken, and his Masters out of joint: Finally, in a chair, which the Vice-Roy commanded to be brought, he was carried to the city, whither the Vice-Roy too returned, desirous to know who the Knight of the White-Moone was, that had left Don Quixote in so bad a taking.   

CHAP. LXV.  
Who the Knight of the White-Moone was, with Don Gregorio's liberty, and other passages.  
DOn Antonio Moreno followed the Knight of the White-Moone, and many Boyes too followed& persecuted him, till he got him to his inn into the city. Don Antonio entred, desirous to know him; and he had his Squire to vn-arme him: he shut himself in a lower room, and Don Antonio with him, who stood vpon thorns, till he knew who he was.  
he of the White-Moone, seeing then that the Gentleman would not leave him, said, I well know, Sir, wherefore you come, and to know who I am; and since there is no reason to deny you this, I will tell you, whilst my man is vn-arming me, the truth without erring a jot. Know, Sir, that I am styled the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, and am one of Don Quixotes town: whose wild madness hath moved as many of us as know him to compassion;& me amongst the rest most: and believing that the best means to procure his health, is to keep him quiet,& so to haue him in his own house. I thought vpon this device: and so about a three moneths since, I met him vpon the way, calling myself by the name of the Knight of the Looking-glasses, with a purpose to fight with him, and vanquish him, without doing him any hurt; and making this the condition of our combat, that the vanquished should be left to the discretion of the vanquisher: and that which I would enjoin him( for I held him already conquered) was, that he should return home, and not abroad again in a whole year; in which time he might haply haue been cured: but Fortune would haue it otherwise; for he vanquished me, and vn-horsed me, and so my project took no effect: he went on his way, and I returned, conquered, ashamed, and bruised with my fall, that was very dangerous: but for all that, I had still a desire to find him again, and to conquer him, as now you haue seen.  
And he being so punctual, in observing the orders of Knight Errantry, will doubtless keep his promise made to me.  
This, Sir, is all I can tell you, and I beseech you conceal me from Don Quixote, that my desires may take effect; and that the man who hath otherwise a good understanding, may recover it if his madness leave him.  
Oh, Sir, said Don Antonio, God forgive you the wrong you do the whole world, in seeking to recover the pleasantest mad man in the world.  
perceive you not, that this recovery cannot bee so much worth, as the delight that his fopperies cause? but I imagine, Sir Bachelor, that all your Art will not make a man so irrecoverably mad, wise again: and if it were not uncharitable, I would say, never may he recover: for in his health wee lose not onely his own conceits, but Sancho Pansa his Squires too, each of which would turn melancholy itself into mirth: for all that, I will hold my peace, I will say nothing, and see whether I guess right, that signor Carrasco's pains will be to no purpose. Who answered, that as yet the business was brought to a good pass, and he hoped for a happy success: and so offering Don Antonio his service he took leave of him. And causing his armour to be packed vpon a great he Mule, at the instant he got himself vpon the Horse, with which he entred the Lists; and the same day he went out of the city homeward, where by the way nothing happened to him, worth the relating in this true history.  
Don Antonio  told the Vice-Roy all that Carrasco said; at which he received not much content, for in Don Quixotes retirement, was theirs also that ever had notice of his mad pranks.  
six dayes was Don Quixote in his bed, all muddy, sad and sorrowful, and wayward, descanting in his thoughts vpon his ill fortune to be vanquished. Sancho comforted him,& amongst other reasons,  told him, signor mine, cheer up, be lively, if you can, give heaven thankes, that though you came with a tumbling cast to the ground, yet you haue never a rib broken; and since you know that sweet meat must haue sour sauce, and that there is not always good cheer, where there is a smoking Chimney, cry, A fig for the Physician, since you need not his help in this disease. Let's home to our houses, and leave looking after these adventures thorough Countreys and places wee know not: and if you consider it well, I am here the greatest loser, though you be in the worst pickle.  
I, though when I left to be a governor, left also my desires that way; yet left not my desire of being an earl, which will never be effected, if you leave to be a King, by leaving the exercise of chivalry, and so my hopes are like to vanish into smoke.  
Peace, Sancho, said Don Quixote, my retirement shall be but for a year, and then Ile strait to my honourable profession again, and I shall not want a kingdom for myself, and some earldom for thee.  
God grant it, said Sancho, and let sin be deaf: for I haue always heard, that a good hope is better then a bad possession. In this discourse they were, when as Don Antonio entred, with shows of great content, saying, My reward, signor Don Quixote, for the news I bring; for Don Gregorio and the run-agate Spaniard with him, are vpon the wharf: the wharf, quoth I? In the viceroys house, and will be here presently.  
Don Quixote was somewhat revived, and said, truly, I was about to haue said, I would it had been otherwise, that I might haue gone into Barbary, and with the strength and vigour of this arm, not onely haue given liberty to Don Gregorio, but to all the Christian captives in Barbary.  
But what say I, wretch that I am? Am not I vanquished? Am not I overthrown? Am not I he that must not touch arms this twelve monetsh? What then do I promising? Why do I praise myself, since it were fitter for me to use a distaff then a sword? No more of that, Sir, said Sancho: a man is a man, though he haue but a hose on his head. To day for thee, and to morrow for me: and for these thumps and encounters there is no heed to be taken: for he that falls to day, may rise to morrow, except it be that he mean to lie a-bed; I mean, to dismay and not take heart to fresh skirmishes: and therefore raise you yourself now, to welcome Don Gregorio: for me thinks, the people of the house are in an uproar, and by this he is come: and he said true; for Don Gregorio having given the Vice-Roy account of his going and coming, desirous to see Ana Felix, he came with the run-agate to Don Antonio's house: and though Don Gregorio, when they brought him out of algiers, were in a womans habit; yet by the way in the boat he changed it with a captive, that came with him: but in whatsoever habit he had been in, he would haue seemed a parsonage, worthy to be coveted, sought after, and served: for he was extraordinary comely, and about some seventeen or eighteen yeeres of age. Ricote and his Daughter went out to welcome him; the Father with tears, and the Daughter with honesty.  
They did not embrace each other; for where there is love, there is never much looseness.  
The two joint beauties of Don Gregorio, and Ana Felix astonished all the by-standers.  
Silence there spoken for the two Louers, and their eyes were tongues, that discovered their joyful, but honest thoughts: the run-agate  told them the means and slight he had used to get Don Gregorio away. Don Gregorio  told his dangers and straites he was put to, amongst the women with whom he remained, not in tedious manner, but with much brevity; where he shewed that his discretion was above his yeeres.  
Finally, Ricote paid and royally satisfied as well the run-agate, as those that had rowed with him. The run-agate was reduced and re-incorporated with the Church, and of a rotten member, became clean and sound, by penance and repentance.  
Some two dayes after, the Vice-Roy treated with Don Antonio about means, that Ricote and his Daughter might remain in spain; thinking it to be no inconvenience, that so Christianly a Father and Daughter should remain, and to see too so well intentionated.  
Don Antonio offered to negotiate it amongst other business, for which he was to go to the Court of necessity, letting them know, that there by favour and bribes many difficult matters are ended.  
There is no trust in favours or bribes, said Ricote then present; for with the Grand Don Bernardino de Velasco, count Salazar, to whom his majesty hath given in charge our expulsion, neither entreaties, promises, bribes or compassion can prevail: for though true it be, that he mixeth his iustice with mercy, yet because he sees, that the whole body of our Nation is putrid and contaminated, he useth rather Cauterizing that burns it, then ointment that softens it: and so with prudence, skill, diligence, and terror, he hath born vpon his strong shoulders,& brought to due execution, the weight of this great Machine; our industries, tricks, sleights and frauds, not being able to blind his watchfull eyes of Argus, which wake continually: to the end that none of ours may remain; that like a hidden roote, may in time sprout up, and scatter venomous fruit throughout all spain, now cleansed, and free from the fear, into which their multitude put her( a heroic resolution of the Grand Philip the third, and unheard of wisdom, to haue committed it to Don Bernardino and Velasco.  
Well, when I come thither said Don Antonio, I will use the best means I can, and let heaven dispose what shall bee fittest. Don Gregorio shall go with me, to comfort the affliction of his parents for his absence; Ana Felix shal stay with my wife here, or in a Monastery: and I know the Vice-roy will bee glad to haue honest Ricote stay with him, till he sees how I can negotiate.  
The Vice-roy yielded to all that was proposed: but Don Gregorio knowing what passed, said, that by no means he could or would leave Ana Felix: but intending to see his friends, and to contrive how he might return for her, at length he agreed. Ana Felix remained with Don Antonio's wife, and Ricote in the Vice-roy his house.  
The time came that Don Antonio was to depart, and Don Quixote and Sancho, which was some two dayes after, for Don Quixotes fall would not suffer him to travell sooner. When Don Gregorio partend from Ana Felix, all was tears, swooning, sighs and sobs. Ricote offered Don Gregorio a 1000 crownes: but he refused them, and borrowed onely five of Don Antonio, to pay him at the Court again: with this they both departed, and Don Quixote and Sancho next( as hath been said) Don Quixote dis-armed, and Sancho on foot, because Dapple was laden with the armor.   

CHAP. LXVI.  
That treats of what the Reader shall see, and he that hearkens hear.  
AS they went out of Barselona, Don Quixote beholded the place where he had his fall, and said, Hic Troia fuit, here was my ill fortune, and not my cowardice, that bereaved me of my former gotten glory: here Fortune used her turns, and returns with me: here my exploits were darkened, and finally, my fortune fell, never to rise again. Which Sancho hearing, said, signor mine, 'tis as proper to great spirits to be patientin adversity, as jocund in prosperity, and this I take from myself: for if when I myself being a governor was merry; now that I am a poor Squire on foot, I am not sad. For I haue heard say, that she you call up and down Fortune, is a drunken longing woman, and withal blind, and so shee sees not what she doth; neither knows whom she casts down, or whom she raiseth up.  
Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, thou art very philosophical: thou speakest marvelous wisely, I know not who hath taught thee. All I can tell thee, is, that in the world there is no such thing as Fortune; neither do things that happen in it, good or evil, fall out by chance, but by the particular providence of heaven: hence 'tis said, That every man is the Artificer of his own Fortune, which I haue been of mine, but not with the discretion that might haue been fitting, and so my rashness hath been requited: for I might haue thought that it was not possible for Rosinantes weakness, to haue resisted the powerful greatness of the Knight of the white-Moones Horse. In fine, I was hardy, I did what I could: down I came, and though I lost my honour; yet I lost not, nor can lose my virtue, to accomplish my promise. When I was a Knight errand, bold and valiant, with my works and hands I ennobled my deeds: and now that I am a foot Squire, I will credit my works, with the accomplishment of my promise: Iog on then, Sancho, and let us get home there to pass the year of our Probationership: in which retiredness, we will recover new virtue, to return to the neuer-forgotten exercise of arms.  
Sir, said Sancho, 'tis no great pleasure to travell great journeys on foot: let us leave your armor hanged up vpon some three, in stead of a hanged man: and then I may get vpon Dapple, and ride as fast as you will: for to think that I will walk great journeys on foot, is but a folly.  
Thou hast said well, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote: hang up my arms, for a Trophy; and at the bottom, or about them we will carve in the Trees, that which in the Trophy of Roldans was written.  
Let none these move,  
That his Valour will not  
With Roldan prove.  
All this( me thinks, said Sancho) is precious: and if it were not that we should want Rosinante by the way, 'twere excellent good hanging him up.  
Well, neither he, nor the armor, quoth Don Quixote, shall be hanged up, that it may not be said, So a good seruant, an ungrateful Master.  
You say marvelous well, quoth Sancho: for according to the opinion of wise men, the fault of the ass must not bee laid vpon the pack-saddle: and since in this last business you yourself were in fault, punish yourself, and let not your fury burst vpon the hacked and bloody armor, or the mildness of Rosinante, or the tenderness of my feet, making me walk more then is fitting.  
All that day and four more they passed in these reasons and discourses: and the fift after, as they entred a town, they saw a great many of people at an inn door, that by reason of the heat were there shading themselves.  
When Don Quixote approached, a Husbandman cried aloud, Some of these Gentlemen, that know not the parties, shall decide the business of our wager. That will I( said Don Quixote) with all uprightness, if I may understand it. Well, good sir, said the Husbandman, this is the matter; here's one dwells in this town so fat, that he weighs eleven 
Arroba, measure of 25. pound weight  Arrobes, and he challenged another to run with him that weighs but five: the wager was to run one hundred paces with equal weight, and the Challenger being asked how they should make equal weight, said, That the other that weighed but five Arrobes, should carry six of Iron, and so they should both weigh equally.  
No, no, said Sancho, before Don Quixote could answer, It concerns me( that not long since left being a governor and a judge as all the world knows) to decide doubts, and to sentence this business. Answer on Gods name, friend Sancho( said Don Quixote) for I am not in the humour to play at boyes-play, since I am so troubled and tormented in mind.  
With this licence, Sancho said to the Husbandmen that were gaping round about him, expecting his sentence, Brothers, the fat mans demand is unreasonable, and hath no appearance of equity; for if he that is challenged may choose his weapons, the other ought not to choose such as may make his contrary vnweyldy and unable to be Victor: and therefore my opinion is, that the fat Challenger do pick, and cleanse, and with-draw, and polish, and nibble, and pull away six Arrobes of his flesh, some-where or other from his body( as he thinks best) and so having but five remaining, he will be made equal with his opposite, and so they may run vpon equal terms.  
I vow by me, said the Husbandman that heard Sancho's sentence, this Gentleman hath spoken blessedly, and sentenced like a Canon: but I warrant, the fat man will not lose an ounce of his flesh, much less six Arrobes.  
The best is, said another, not to run, that the lean man strain not himself with too much weight, nor the fat man dis-flesh himself, and let half the wager be spent in wine, and let us carry these Gentlemen to the tavern that hath the 
A good wish, as if he would haue said, Let the burden light vpon him.  best, and give me the cloak when it rains.  
I thank you Sir, said Don Quixote; but I cannot stay a jot: for my sad thoughts make me seem vnmannerly, and travell more then ordinarily. And so spurring Rosinante, he passed forward, leaving them to admire and note, as well his strange shape as his mans discretion; for, such they judged Sancho. And another of the Husbandmen said; If the man be so wise, what think ye of the Master? I hold a wager, that if they went to study at Salamanca, they would be made Iudges of the Court in a trice, for all is foppery to your studying: study hard, and with a little favour and good lucke, when a man least thinks of it, he shall haue a Rod of Iustice in his hand, or a mitre vpon his head.  
That night the Master and man passed in the open field: and the next day being vpon their way, they saw a footman coming towards them with a pair of Wallets about his neck,& a javelin or Dart in his hand, just like a footman, who coming near Don Quixote, mended his place, and beginning to run, came and took him by the right thigh; for he could reach no higher, and said with a great deal of gladness; Oh my signor Don Quixote de la Mancha, and how glad my Lord Duke will be, when he knows you will return to his Castle? for he is there still with my Lady duchess.  
I know you not, friend, said Don Quixote, who you are, except you tell me.  
I, signor Don Quixote, said the foot-man, am Tosilos the Dukes Lackey, that would not fight with your Worship about the marriage of Donna Rodriguez daughter.  
God defend me, said Don Quixote, and is it possible? and are you he, into whom the Enchanters my enemies transformed my contrary, to defraud me of the honour of that combat?  
Peace, Sir, quoth the Letter foote-post, there was no Enchantment, nor changing of my face, I was as much Tosilos the Lackey, when I went into the Lists, as when I came out: I thought to haue married without fighting, because I liked the wench well; but it fell out otherwise. My Lord Duke caused me to be well banged, because I did not according as I was instructed before the battle was to begin: and the Conclusion is, the wench is turned Nun, and Donna Rodriguez is gone back again into Castile, and I am going now to Barselona to carry a packet of Letters to the Vice-roy which my Lord sends him: and if it please you to drink a sup( though it be hot, yet pure) I haue a little Gourd here full of the best wine, with some slices of excellent cheese, that shall serve for a provoker& Alarum to thirst if it be asleep.  
I see the vie, said Sancho, and set the rest of your courtesy, and therefore skinke, honest Tosilos, in spite of all the Enchanters in the Indies.  
Well, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, thou art the onely Glutton in the world, and the onely ass alive, since thou canst not bee persuaded that this foote-man is Enchanted, and this Tosilos counterfeit; stay thou with him and fill thyself, Ile go on faire and softly before, and expect thee.  
The Lackey laughed, and unsheathed his bottle,& drawing out his bread and cheese, he and Sancho sate vpon the green grass, and like good follows they cast Anchor vpon all the Wallets provant so hungrily, that all being gone, they licked the very Letter-packet because it smelled of cheese.  
Tosilos said to Sancho; doubtless thy Master, friend Sancho, is a very mad-man. he owes no man nothing in that kind, said Sancho; for if the money he were to pay, be in madness, he hath enough to pay all men. I see it well enough, and tell him of it, but tis to no purpose; for he is now even past recovery, since he hath been vanquished by the Knight of the white moon. Tosilos desired him to tell him what had befallen him: but Sancho answered; it was a discourtesy to let his Master stay for him, but at some other time when they met, he should know: and so rising up after he had well dusted himself, and shaked the crumbs from his beard, he caught hold of Dapple before, and crying farewell, left Tosilos, and ouertook his Master that stayed for him under the shade of a three.   

CHAP. LXVII.  
Of the resolution Don Quixote had to turn shepherd, and to lead a Country life, whilst the promise for his year was expired, with other accidents, truly, good, and savoury.  
IF Don Quixote were much troubled in mind before his fall, he was so much more after it: he stood shading himself under the three( as you heard) and there his thoughts set vpon him, as flies vpon hony; some tending to the disenchantment of Dulcinea, others to the life that he meant to led in the time of his forced retirement.  
Sancho now drew near, and extolled the liberality of Tosilos.  
Is it possible, Sancho, said Don Quixote, that still thou thinkest that that was a true Lackey, and that thou hast forgotten too that Dulcinea was converted and transformed into a Country wench, and the Knight of the Looking-glasses, into the Bachelor Samson Carrasco: all these by the doings of Enchanters my enemies that persecute me? But tell me now, didst thou ask that Tosilos, what became of Altisidora? did she lament my absence, or hath she forgotten her amorous passions, that when I was present troubled her?  
I never thought on't( said Sancho) neither had I leisure to ask after such fooleries. Body of me, Sir, you are now in a humour of asking after other folkes thoughts, and amorous ones too.  
Look thee, Sancho, there is a great deal of difference betwixt love and gratefulness; it may well be that a Gentleman may not be amorous: but it cannot be( speaking in all rigour) that he should be ungrateful: Altisidora in likelihood loved me very well, she gave me the three night-caps thou wottest of, she cried at my departure, cursed me, reviled me, and without modesty railed publicly, all signs that she adored me; for the anger of louers often ends in maledictions. I could give her no comfort, nor no treasure, all I haue being dedicated to Dulcinea, and the treasure of Knights errand is like that of Fairies, false and apparent onely, and all I can do, is but to remember her, and this I may do without prejudice to Dulcinea, whom thou wrongest with thy slackness in whipping thyself, and in chastising that flesh of thine, that I wish I might see devoured by wolves, that had rather preserve itself for worms, then for the remedy of that poor Lady.  
Sir, said Sancho, if you will haue the truth, I cannot persuade myself that the lashing of my posteriors can haue any reference to the dis-enchanting of the Enchanted, which is as much as if you should say, If your head grieve you, anoint your knees, at least, I dare swear, that in as many histories as you haue red of Knight Errantry, you never saw whipping dis-enchant any body: but howsoever, I will take it when I am in the humour, and when time serves Ile chastise myself.  
God grant thou dost, said Don Quixote, and heaven give thee grace to fall into the reckoning and obligation thou hast to help my Lady, who is thy Lady too, since thou art mine.  
With this discourse they held on their way, till they came just to the place where the Bulls had overrun them: and Don Quixote called it to mind, and said to Sancho; In this field we met the brave shepheardesses, and the lusty swains, that would here haue imitated and renewed the pastoral Arcadia: an invention as strange as witty; in imitation of which, if thou thinkest fit, Sancho, wee will turn shepherds for the time that wee are to live retired: Ile buy sheep, and all things fit for our pastoral vocation, and calling myself by the name of the shepherd Quixotiz, and thou the shepherd Pansino, we will walk up and down the Hills, thorough Woods and meadows, singing and versifying, and drinking the liquid crystal of the fountains, sometimes out of the clear springs, and then out of the swift running riuers; The oaks shall afford us plentifully of their most sweet fruit,& the bodies of hardest Corke-trees shall be our seats, the willows shall give us shade, the roses their perfume, and the wide meadows carpets of a thousand flourished colours: the air shall give us a free and pure breath: the moon and stars in spite of Nights darkness shall give us light, our songs shall afford us delight, and our wailing, mirth, Apollo, verses, and Loue-conceits, with which we may be eternalized and famous, not onely in this present age, but ages to come also. By ten, quoth Sancho, this kind of life is very suitable to my desires, and I beleeue the Bachelor Samson, and Master Nicholas the Barber will no sooner haue seen it, but they will turn shepherds with us: and pray God the Vicar haue not a mind to enter into the sheep-coat too, for he is a merry Lad and jolly. Thou hast said very well, Sancho, said Don Quixote,& the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, if so be he enter the pastoral lap( as doubtless he will) may call himself the shepherd Samsonino, or Carrascon. Mr. Nicholas may call himself Niculoso, as the ancient 
Alluding to the word Bosque for a Wood.  Boscan called himself, Nemoroso. I know not what name wee should bestow vpon the Vicar, except it were some deriuatiue from his own, calling him the shepherd Curiambro. The shepheardesses on whom we must be enamoured, we may choose their names as amongst pears: and since my Ladies name serves as well for a shepherdess as for a princess, I need not trouble myself to get her another better, give thou thine what name thou wilt.  
Mine, said Sancho, shall haue no other name but Teresona, which will fit her fatness well, and it is taken from her Christian name, which is Teresa, and the rather I celebrating her in my verses, do discover my chased thoughts, since I seek not in other mens houses better bread then is made of wheat: 'twere not fit that the Vicar had his shepherdess, to give good example, but if the Bachelor will haue any, tis in his own free choice.  
Lord bless me, Sancho, said Don Quixote, and what a life shall we haue on't? what a world of horne-pipes, and Zamora bag-pipes shall we hear? what Tabouring shall we haue? what jangling of bells and playing on the rebeck? and if to these different musikes we haue the Albogne too, we shall haue all kind of pastoral instruments.  
What is Albogne( quoth Sancho?) It is, said Don Quixote, a certain plate made like a candlestick, and being hollow, gives, if not a very pleasing or harmonious sound, yet it displeaseth not altogether, and agrees well with the rustic Tabor and bag-pipe; and this word Albogne is Moorish, as all those in our Castilian tongue are, that begin with Al, to wit, Almoasa, Almorzar, Alhombra, Alguazil, Alucena, Almazon, Alsancia and the like, with some few more; and our language hath onely three Moorish words that end in I, which are Borcegni, Zaguicami, and Merauedi: Alheli& Alfaqui are as well known to be arabic by their beginning with Al, as their ending in I.  
This I haue  told thee by the way, the word Albogne having brought it into my head, and one main help wee shall haue for the perfection of this calling, that I, thou knowest, am somewhat poetical, and the Bachelor Samson Carrasco is a most exquisite one; for the Vicar I say nothing, but I lay a wager he hath his smack, and so hath Master Nicolas too: for all these, or the most of them play vpon a Guittern, and are rhymers, I will complain of absence: thou shalt praise thyself for a Constant lover, the shepherd Carrascon shall mourn for being disdained, and let the Vicar Curiambro do what he pleaseth, and so there is no more to be desired.  
To which( said Sancho) Sir, I am so unlucky, that I fear I shal not see the day, in which I may see myself in that happy life: oh what neat spoons shall I make when I am shepherd! what hodge-potches and cream! what garlands and other pastoral trumperies? that though they get me not a famed of being wise, yet they shall, that I am witty. My little daughter Sanchica shall bring our dinner to the flock: but soft, she is handsome, and you haue shepherds more knaves then fools, and I would not haue her come for wool, and return shorne: and your loose desires are as incident to the fields as to Cities, and as well in shepherds cottages, as Princes Palaces, and the cause being removed, the sin will be saved, and the heart dreams not of what the eye sees not,& better a fair pair of heels, then die at the gallows.  
No more proverbs, Sancho,( said Don Quixote) since each of these is enough to make us know thy meaning, and I haue often advised thee, not to be so prodigal of thy proverbs, but more sparing: but 'tis in vain to bid thee; for the more thou art bid, the more thou wilt do it. me thinks, Sir, said Sancho, you are like what is said, that the Frying-pan said to the Kettle, avant, blacke-browes; you reprehend me for speaking of proverbs, and you thread up yours by two and two.  
Look you, Sancho, quoth Don Quixote, I use mine to purpose, and when I speak them, they fit as well as a little ring to the finger: but thou bringest in thine so by head and shoulders, that thou rather draggest then guidest them: and if I forget not, I  told thee heretofore, that proverbs are brief sentences, drawn from the experience and speculation of our Ancient Sages, and a proverb ill applied, is rather a foppery then a sentence: but leave we this now; and since night comes on us, let's retire a little out of the high-way, where we will pass this night,& God knows what may befall us to morrow. So they retired, and made a short supper, much against Sancho's will, who now began to think of the hard life of Knight Errantry in Woods and Mountaines, especially calling to his remembrance, the Castles and houses as well of Don Diego de Miranda, and where the rich Camacho's marriage was, and likewise Don Antonio Moreno's: but he considered with himself, that nothing could last ever: and so he slept away the rest of that night, which his Master passed watching.   

CHAP. LXVIII.  
Of the Bristled adventure that befell Don Quixote.  
THe night was somewhat dark, though the Moon were up, but she was obscured; for sometimes my Lady Diana goes to walk with the Antipodes, and leaves the Mountaines black, and the valleys darkened. Don Quixote complide with Nature, having slept his first sleep, he broken off his second, contrary to Sancho, for his lasted from night till morning: a sign of his good complexion, and few cares. These kept Don Quixote waking in such sort, that he awakened Sancho, and said to him;  
I wonder, Sancho, at thy free condition● I imagine thou art made of Marble, or of hard brass, which neither moves, or hath any feeling. I wake, when thou sleepest; I trip, when thou singest; I am ready to faint with fasting, when thou art lazy, and unwieldy with pure cramming in: 'twere the part of good seruants, to haue a fellow-feeling of their Masters griefs, if it were but for decency: behold this nights brightness, and the solitude we are in, which invites us to intermingle some watching with sleep: rise by thy life, and get thee a little apart, and with a good courage and thankful cheer, give thyself three or four hundreth lashes vpon account, for Dulcinea's dis-enchanting: and this I entreat of thee; for I will not now, as heretofore, come to handy-gripes with thee; for I know, thou hast shrewd Clutches: and after thou hast done, we will pass the rest of the night; I, chanting my absence, and thou thy constancy, beginning from henceforward our pastoral exercise, which we are to keep in our Village.  
Sir, said Sancho, I am of no Religious order, that I should rise out of the midst of my sleep to discipline myself; neither do I think it possible, that from the pain of my whipping, I may proceed to music. Pray, Sir, let me sleep, and do not press me so to this whipping; for you will make me vow never to touch so much as a hair of my coat, much less of my flesh. O hard heart! oh ungodly Squire! oh ill given bread, and favours ill placed which I bestowed, and thought to haue more and more conferred vpon thee: by me thou wast a governor, and from me thou wast in good possibility of being an earl, or having some aequivalent Title, and the accomplishment should not haue failed, when this our year should end: for I post tenebras spero lucem. I understand not that, said Sancho, only I know that whilst I am sleeping, I neither fear nor hope, haue neither pain nor pleasure: and well fare him that invented sleep, a cloak that covers all human thoughts; the food that slakes hunger; the water that quencheth thirst; and the fire that warmeth could; the could that tempers heat; and finally a currant coin, with which all things are bought, a balance and weight that equals the King to the shepherd; the fool to the wiseman: onely one thing( as I haue heard) sleep hath ill, which is, that it is like death, in that between a man asleep, and a dead man, there is little difference.  
I haue never, Sancho, said Don Quixote, heard thee speak more elegantly then now: whereby I perceive, the proverb thou often usest is true; You may know the man, by the conversation he keeps. Gods me, Master mine, I am not onely he now that threads on proverbs: and they come freer from you( me thinks) and betwixt yours and mine, there is this onely difference, that yours are fitly applied, and mine unseasonably.  
In this discourse they were, when they perceived a deaf noise thorough all the Valleys. Don Quixote stood up, and laid hand to his sword, and Sancho squatted under Dapple, and clapped the bundle of armor, and his Asses Pack-saddle on each side of him, as fearful, as his Master was outrageous: still the noise increased, and drew nearer the two timorous persons( at least one) for the others valour is sufficiently known.  
The business was, that certain fellowes drove some six hundreth Swine to a fair to sell, with whom they traveled by night; and the noise they made, with their grunting and squeaking was so great, that it deafed Don Quixotes and Sancho's ears, that never marked what it might be. It fell out, that the goodly grunting Herd were all in a troope together, and without respect to Don Quixote or Sancho's person, they trampled over them both, spoiling Sancho's Trenches, and overthrowing not onely Don Quixote, but Rosinante also: the fury of the sudden coming of these unclean beasts, made a confusion, and laid on ground the pack-saddle, armor, Rosinante, Sancho, and Don Quixote. Sancho rose as well as he could, and desired his Masters sword, telling him, he would kill half a dozen of those vnmannerly Hogs, for now he knew them to be so.  
Don Quixote said, Let them alone, friend, for this affront is a penalty for my fault, and a just punishment it is from heaven, that Dogs and Wasps eat a vanquished Knight errand, and that Swine trample over him.  
And it is a punishment of heaven too, belike, said Sancho, that flies do bite the Squires of vanquished Knights, that Lice eat them, and hunger close with them.  
If we Squires were sons or near Kinsmen to the Knights we serve, 'twere not much wee were partakers with them, even to the fourth generation: but what haue the Pansa's to do with the Quixotes?  
Well: yet let's go fit ourselves again, and sleep the rest of the night, and 'twill be day, and we shall haue better lucke.  
sleep thou, Sancho, said Don Quixote, for thou wast born to sleep, and I was born to wake: betwixt this and day-breake, I will give reins to my thoughts, and vent them out in some Madrigall, that without thy knowledge I composed this night.  
Me thinks, said Sancho, that thoughts that give way to Verses, are not very troublesone: and therefore versify you as much as you list, and Ile sleep as much as I can: and so taking up as much of the ground as he would, he crowched up together, and slept liberally: Debts, nor suretyship, nor any other affliction disturbing him.  
Don Quixote leaning to the body of a Beech or Cork-tree( for Cid Hamete Benengeli distinguisheth not what three it was) to the music of his own sighs, sung as followeth: love, when I think, &c. Each of which Verses were accompanied with many sighs, and not few tears, fit for a vanquished Knight, and one who had his heart pierced thorough with grief, and tormented with the absence of his Dulcinea.  
Now day came on, and Sir Sol with his beams played in Sancho's eyes; who awoke, and lazed himself, shaking and stretching out his lither limbs, he beholded the havoc the Swine had made in his Sumpterie, and he cursed& re-cursed the Herd.  
Finally, both of them returned to their commenced journey; and toward Sun-set, they saw some ten Horse-men coming toward them, and four or five foot-men. Don Quixote was aghast at heart, and Sancho shivered, for the troope drew nearer to them, who had their spears and Shields all in warlike array.  
Don Quixote turned to Sancho, and said, If, Sancho, it were lawful for me to exercise arms, and that my promise had not bound my hands, I should think this were an adventure of Cake-bread: but perhaps it may bee otherwise then we think for.  
By this the Horse-men came, and lifting up their launces, without a word speaking, they compassed in Don Quixote before and behind; one of the foot-men threatening him with death, and clapping his finger to his mouth, in sign he should not cry out; and so he laid hold on Rosinante's bridle, and lead him out of the way: and the rest of the foot-men catching Sancho's Dapple, all of them most silently followed after those that carried Don Quixote; who twice or thrice would haue asked, whither they carried him, and what they would with him? but he no sooner began to move his lips, when they were ready to close them with their launces points:& the same happened to Sancho, when one of the foot-men pricked him with a Goad, he offering but to speak, and Dapple they punched too, as if he would haue spoken: it now began to grow dark, so they mended their place: the two prisoners fears increased; especially when they might hear that sometimes they were cried out on, On, on, ye Troclodites, peace, ye barbarous slaves: Reuenge, ye Anthropophagi: complain not, ye Scythians; open not your eyes, ye murderous Polyphemans, ye Butcherous lions, and other such names as these, with which they tormented the ears of the lamentable Knight and Squire.  
Sancho said within himself, 
Sanchos mistakes.  We Tortelites? We Barbers slaves? we Popingeyes? we little Bitches to whom they cry, Hist, Hist: I do not like these names, this wind winnowes no corn, all our ill comes together, like a whip to a dog: and I would to God this adventure might end no worse.  
Don Quixote was embesel'd: neither in all his discourse could he find, what reproachful names those should be, that were put vpon him, whereby he plainly perceived there was no good to be hoped for; but on the contrary much evil.  
Within an hour of night they came to the Castle: which Don Quixote well perceived to be the Dukes, where but while before they had been.  
Now God defend( said he) as soon as he knew the place: what haue we here? Why, in this house, all is courtesy& good usage: but for the vanquished, all goes from good to bad, and from bad, to worse.  
They entred the chief Court of the Castle, and they saw it so dressed and ordered, that their admiration increased, and their fear re-doubled; as you shall see in the following Chapter.   

CHAP. LXIX.  
Of the newest and strangest adventure, that in all the course of this History befell Don Quixote.  
THe Horsemen all alighted, and the footmen taking Don Quixote and Sancho forcibly in their arms, they set them in the Court, where round about were burning a hundreth Torches in their Vessels of purpose; and about the Turrets above five hundreth lights; so that in spite of dark night, they might there see day.  
In the midst of the Court there was a Hearse raised some two yards from the ground, covered with a Cloth of State of black velvet, and round about it there burned a hundred Virgin wax Candles in silver candlesticks; on the top of it there lay a faire damosel, that shewed to be dead, that with her beauty made death herself seem faire: her head was laid vpon a Pillow-beare of Cloth of gold, crwoned with a Garland, woven with diuers odiferous Flowers: her hands were crossed vpon her breast, and betwixt them was a bough of flourishing yellow palm.  
On one side of the Court there was a kind of theatre set up, and two Personages in their chairs, who with their crownes on their heads, and sceptres in their hands, seemed to be either real or feigned Kings: at the side of this theatre where they went up by steps, there were two other chairs, where they that brought the prisoners, set Don Quixote and Sancho, and all this with silence and signs to them that they should bee silent too: but without that they held their peace: for the admiration of what they there saw, tied their tongues: After this two other principal Personages came up, whom Don Quixote strait knew to be the Duke and duchess, his host and Oastesse, who sate down in two rich chairs, near the two seeming Kings. Whom would not this admire? especially having seen that the body vpon the Hearse, was the faire Altisidora? When the Duke and duchess mounted, Don Quixote and Sancho bowed to them, and the Dukes did the like, nodding their heads a little: and now an Officer entred athwart them, and coming to Sancho, clapped a Coat of black Buckram on him, all painted with flames of fire: and taking his Cap off, he set a mitre on his head, just such a one as the Inquisition causes to be set vpon heretics, and bade him in his ear, he should not vnsowe his lips, for they would clap a gag in his mouth, or kill him.  
Sancho beholded himself all over, and saw himself burning in flames: but since they burned not indeed, he cared not a rush for them: he took off his mitre, and saw it painted with divels: he put it on again, and said within himself, Well yet, neither the one burns me, nor the others carry me away.  
Don Quixote beholded him also, and though fear suspended his sences, he could not but laugh at Sancho's Picture: and now from under the hearse there seemed to sound, a low and pleasing sound of Flutes; which being vn-interrupted by any mans voice( for there it seemed Silence self kept Silence) was soft and amorous.  
strait there appeared suddenly on the Pillow of the Hearse, a carcase of a goodly Youth, clad like a roman, who to the sound of a harp himself played on, with a most sweet and clear voice, sung these two Stanza's following. 
Which I likewise omit as being basely made on purpose,& so not worth the translation.  Enough said one of the two, that seemed to be Kings: Enough, divine singer: for it were to proceed in infinitum, to paint unto us the misfortunes and graces of the peerless Altisidora, not dead, as the simplo world surmiseth; but living in the tongues of famed, and in the penance that Sancho is to pass, to return her to the lost ●ight: and therefore thou, oh Radamanthus, that judgest with me in the darksome Caues of Dis, since thou knowest all that is determining in the inscrutable Fates, touching the restoring of this Damozel, tell and declare it forthwith, that the happiness we expect from her return, may not be deferred.  
Scarce had judge Minos said this, when Radamanthus standing up, said, go too, Ministers of this house, high and low, great and small, come one after another, and seal Sancho's Chin with four and twenty tuckes, twelve pinches, and with pins prick his arms and buttocks six times, in which Altisidora's health consists.  
When Sancho Pansa heard this, he broken off silence, and said, I vow, you shall as soon tuck me, or handle my face, as make me turn Moore. Body of me, what hath the handling my face to do with this Damozels resurrection? The old Woman tasted the spinach, &c. Dulcinea is enchanted, and I must be whipped to dis-enchant her: Altisidora dyes of some sickness it pleased God to sand her; and her raising must bee with four and twenty tuckes given me, and with grinding my body with pins thrusts, and pinching my arms black and blue: away with your tricks to some other, I am an old dog, and there's no histing to me.  
Thou diest, quoth Radamanthus aloud: relent, thou tiger, humble thyself proud Nembroth, suffer and be silent, since no impossibilities are required of thee; and stand not vpon difficulties in this business: thou shalt be tucked, and see thyself grinded, thou shalt groan with pinching. go too, I say, Ministers, fulfil my command; if not, as I am honest man, you shall rue the time that ever you were born.  
Now there came thorough the Court, six like old Waiting-women, one after another in Procession; four with Spectacles, and all with their right hands lifted aloft, with four fingers breadths of their wrists discovered, to make their hands seem larger( as the fashion is.)  
No sooner had Sancho seen them, when bellowing like a Bull, he said, Well might I suffer all the world else to handle me, but that Waiting-women touch me, I will never consent: Let vm Cat-scratch my face, as my Master was served in this Castle: let vm thrust me thorough with Bodkin-pointed Daggers: let vm pull off my flesh with hote burning Pincers, and I will bear it patiently, and serve these Nobles: but that Waiting women touch me, let the divell take me, I will not consent.  
Don Quixote then interrupted him, saying, Haue patience soon, and please these Lordings, and thank God, that he hath given such virtue to thy person, that with the martyrdom of it thou mayst dis-enchant the Enchanted, and raise up the dead.  
And now the Waiting-women drew near Sancho; who being won and persuaded, settled in his chair, offered his face and chin to the first that came, who gave him a well-sealed tuck, and so made him a curtsy. less curtsy, and less slabber-sauces, good Mistris Mumpsimus, quoth Sancho: for, I protest your hands smell of vinegar.  
At length all the Waiting-women sealed him, and others pinched him: but that which he could not suffer, was the Pins pricking; and therefore he rose out of his chair very moody, and laying hold of a lighted Torch that was near him, he ran after the women, and his Executioners, saying, avant, infernal Ministers, for I am not made of brass, not to be sensible of such extraordinary martyrdom.  
By this Altisidora that was weary with lying so long vpon her back, turned on one side: which when the by-standers saw, all of them cried out jointly, Altisidora lives, Altisidora lives.  
Radamantus commanded Sancho to lay aside his choler, since now his intent was obtained.  
And as Don Quixote saw Altisidora stir, he went to kneel down to Sancho, saying, son of my entrails: 'tis now high time, that thou give thyself some of the lashes to which thou art obliged, for the dis-enchanting of Dulcinea.  
Now, I say, is the time, wherein thy virtue may be seasoned, and thou mayst with efficacy effect the good that is expected from thee.  
To which( quoth Sancho) Heida: this is sour vpon sour: 'twere good after these pinchings, Tucks& Pins-prickings, that lashes should follow; there's no more to be done, but even take a good ston, and tie it to my neck, and cast me into a Well: for which I should not grieve much; if so bee that to cure other solkes ills, I must be the Pack-horse: let me alone, if not, I shall mar all; and now Altisidora sate up in the hearse, and the Hoboyes, accompanied with Flutes and voices, began to sound, and all cried out, live Altisidora, Altisidora live. The Dukes rose up,& with them Minos& Radamanthus, and all together with Don Quixote and Sancho went to receive Altisidora, and to help her out of the hearse, who feigning a kind of dismaying, bowed down to her Lords, and to the two Kings, and looking ask once on Don Quixote, said; God pardon thee, discourteous Knight, since by thy cruelty I haue remained in another world, methinks at least these thousand yeeres, and thee I thank, the most compassionate Squire in the world, I thank thee for the life I possess: and now dispose of six of my smocks, which I give thee to make six shirts; and if they be not all whole, yet they are clean at least.  
Sancho kissed her hands with his mitre off, and his knees on the ground, and the Duke commanded they should return him his cap, and in stead of his gown with the flames, they should return him his Gaberdine. Sancho desired the Duke that they would leave him both, which he would carry into his Country, in memory of that vn-heard-of success. The duchess answered, they should, and that he knew how much she was his friend. The Duke commanded all to avoid the Court, and to retire to their lodgings, and that Don Quixote and Sancho should be carried to theirs they knew of old.   

CHAP. LXX.  
Of diuers rare things, which serve for the better illustration and cleared of this History.  
SAncho slept that night vpon a Quilt& in Don Quixote's own chamber, which he would fain haue avoyded, had it been in his power; for he knew full well, that his Master would hardly let him sleep all night, by reason of the many questions he would demand of him, to which he must of necessity make answer. Now was he in no good humour to talk much; for he felt yet the smart of his fore-passed torments, which were an hindrance to his tongue. And without doubt, he would rather haue lain alone in any poor  shed, then with company in that goodly house; so true was his fear, and so certain his doubt, as he was scarce laid in his bed, but his Master began this discourse unto him.  
Sancho, what thinkest thou of this nights success? needs must a man confess, that great and powerful is the force of disdain, since as thou thyself hast seen with thine own eyes, Altisidora had surely died, and that by no other arrows, nor by any other sword, nor other instrument of war, no, nor by the force of poison, but by the apprehension of the churlish rigor, and the disdain wherewith I haue ever used her.  
She might( answered Sancho) haue died in good time, and at her choice and pleasure, so she would haue 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 be, that the health or welfare of Altisidora, a Gentlewoman more fantastical then discreet, hath any reflection( as I haue said heretofore) vpon the afflictions of Sancho Pansa. Now I plainly and distinctly perceive, that there be both Enchanters and Enchantments in the world, from whom God deliver me, since I cannot well deliver myself from them. And therewithal I entreat you to let me sleep, and except you will haue me throw myself out of a window, ask me no more questions.  
sleep, my friend Sancho( replied Don Quixote) unless the nipping scoffs and bitter frumps which thou hast received, will not permit thee so to do.  
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 haue 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. Be it as thou sayest, quoth Don Quixote, and God accompany thee.  
So they both fell a-sleepe, and whilst they slept, Cid Hamete, Author of this great History, would needs writ and relate, why the Duke and the duchess had caused this monument to bee built, and invented all that you haue seen above.  
He writes then, that the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, having not forgotten what had happened unto him, at what time, under the name of the Knight of the Looking-glasses, he was vanquished and overthrown by Don Quixote: and there withall how all his designs and purposes were vanished into smoke; yet nevertheless would he( hoping for better success) attempt the combat again: Therefore is it, that being informed by the page. who brought the Letter, and with it the Present unto Teresa Pansa, the wife of Sancho, from the place where Don Quixote made his residence, he recovered new arms and a Horse.  
Then caused he the white moon to be painted in his shield: A Mulet carried all this equipage, and a job or swain lead the same, and not Thomas Ceciall his ancient Esquire, for fear he should be known of Sancho and Don Quixote.  
He so well bestirred himself in his journeys, that at last he came to the Dukes Castle, who taught him the way or tract that Don Quixote had taken, and how he had a great desire to be present at the Tiltings and tournaments of Saragosa. He likewise related unto him the gullings or gudgeons that he had given him, with the invention of Dulcinea's dis-enchantment, which should be accomplished at the charges of Sancho's buttocks. In sum, he understood from him the fob or iest that Sancho had used toward his Master, in making him beleeue that Dulcinea was Enchanted and transformed into a Country Lasse, and how the duchess his wife had given Sancho to understand, that himself was the man that deceived himself, forsomuch as Dulcinea was verily Enchanted.  
The Bachelor could not contain himself from laughing, and therewithal to be amazed, considering the quaint subtlety, and plain simplicity of Sancho, equal unto the extreme folly of Don Quixote. The Duke desired him, that if he met with him, and either vanquished him or not, he would be pleased to come that way again, to the end he might advertise him of it.  
The Bachelor promised him to do it, and so took his leave of the Duke, to go and see whether he could find Don Quixote. He found him not a Saragosa, but went further, and then befell him what you haue already heard.  
He came afterward to the Dukes Castle, and there made report of all, together with the conditions of the combat. he moreover  told them, that Don Quixote came again to accomplish, as a perfect Knight errand, the promise which he had made, to retire himself to his own Village, and there to abide the full space of one full year. And that during the said time, it might peradventure be brought to pass( said the Bachelor) that he might be cured of his folly. That he never had other intention, and that for this onely cause he had thus disguised himself; for, it was great pitty that a Gentleman, so well skilled and versed in all things as Don Quixote was, should become a fool.  
With that he took leave of the Duke, and went to his burrow, where he stayed for Don Quixote, who was coming after him. Whereupon the Duke took occasion to put this trick vpon him; for, he took a wondrous pleasure of what succeeded unto Sancho and Don Quixote: and therefore he caused all the approaches and highways about his Castle to be laid and watched, especially where he imagined our Knight might come. And for the said cause, he placed diuers of his seruants, as well on foot as on horseback, to the end that if they met with him, willed he, or niled he, they should bring him to the Castle.  
Now it fortuned that they met with him, and forth-with they gave the Duke knowledge of it, who was already resolved what he would do. As soon then as he knew of his coming, he caused all the torches and lights that were in the Court to be lighted, and Altisidora to bee placed vpon the tomb with all the preparation that you haue seen before; and that so lively represented, as one would haue found very little difference between the truth, and that which was counterfeit.  
Cid Hamete goeth yet further; for he saith, That he assuredly believeth, 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 surprised them, and they desired to rise; for the sluggish feathers were never pleasing unto Don Quixote, were he conquered or conqueror.  
Altisidora, who, as Don Quixote supposed, being risen from death to life, comforming herself to her Master and Mistresses humour, being crwoned with the very same garland which she had in the tomb; attired in a loose gown of white Taffata, all beset with flowers of gold: her hair loose, and dangling down her shoulders, leaning vpon a staff of fine Ebony wood; shee entred into Don Quixote's chamber, who so soon as he saw her, was so amazed and confounded at her presence, as he shrunk down into his bed, all covered with the clothes, and hide with the sheets and counterpoint, that he neither spake word, nor used any manner of gesture towards her, as might witness that he desired to show her any courtesy.  
Altisidora sat down in a chair, which was near unto Don Quixote's head,& after fetching a deep deep sigh, with a low, sweet, and mild voice, she thus bespoke him:  
Sir Don Quixote, whensoever women of quality, or maidens of discretion trample their honor under their feet, and give their tongue free liberty and scope to exceed the bounds of conveniency or modesty, publishing the secrets lurking in their hearts, they then shall find themselves brought to extreme misery and distress.  
Now am I one of those, pressed, vanquished, and also enamoured: All which notwithstanding 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 haue used towards me, brought me to my lives end, or at least I haue been deemed and taken for dead by all those that saw me. And had it not been, that love, who taking pity of me, deposed my recovery among the grievous torments of this good Esquire, I should for ever haue remained in the other world. love might well depose it( replied Sancho) in those of my ass, and I would haue been very glad of it. But tell me, I pray you good damosel, even as heaven may provide you of another more kind-louing-Louer then my Master, what is it that you haue seen in the other world? What is there in Hell, that he who dieth desperate, must necessary undergo? I must needs( quoth Altisidora) tell you the plain truth of all. So it is, that I was not wholly or thoroughly 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 divels, who in their hosen and doublets were playing at Tennis-ball; they did wear Falling-bands set with peakes of flemish Bone-lace, with Cuffs unto them of the very same, so deep, as they appeared four good inches longer then the arm, 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 wind and stifning, a thing both wondrous and newly-strange, yet did not that so much astony me: for, as it is proper unto those, that win at any game, to rejoice and be glad; whereas those that lose; are ever sad and discontent: there, all grumbled, chafed, fretted and bitterly cursed one another.  
That's no wonder( quoth Sancho) since the divels, whether they play, or play not; whethey they everichone, or win not, at that play they can never be content.  
Belike it is even so( replied Altisidora:) but there is also another thing, which likewise bread some amazement in me; that is to say, brought me 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 marvelous thing to behold.  
Now it happened, that they gave so violent a stroke unto a modern book, and very fairly bound, that it made the very guts to fly out of it, and scattered the leaves thereof up and down.  
Then said one divell unto another, I prithee look what that book treateth of. It is( answered the other divell) the second part of the History of Don Quixote de la Mancha, not composed by Cid Hamete, it's first author, but by an Aragonois, who braggeth to be born at Tordesillas. Now fie vpon it( quoth the other divell) out of my sight with it, and let it be cast into the very lowest pit of Hell, so deep as mine eyes may never see it again. But why( said the other divell?) is it so bad a book? It is so vile a book( replied the first divell) that had I myself expressly composed it, I could never haue encountered worse.  
In the mean time they followed on their game, tossing other books to and fro; but having heard the name of Don Quixote, he whom I love so passionately, I haue 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 myself: And that History doth already go from hand to hand thorough all parts of the universe: and yet stays in no place, for so much as every one will haue a kick at it. Now I haue not been angry or vexed, when I haue heard that I wander up and down like a fantastic body, amid 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 be true and faithfully compiled, it will live many ages; but if it be nothing worth, it will die even at it's birth.  
Altisidora would haue continued her plaints, accusing Don Quixote of rigour and unkindness; but he said thus unto her, madam, I haue often  told you, that I am very angry, that you haue settled your thoughts on me; since you can draw nothing from me but bare thanks, and no remedy at all. I was onely born for Dulcinea of Toboso, and to her onely haue the Destinies( if there be any) wholly dedicated me. To think, that any other beauty can possess or usurp the place, which she possesseth in my soul, were to beleeue an impossibility. And this should suffice to dis-abuse you, and to make you to retire yourself within the bounds of your honesty, since no creature is tide unto impossibilities.  
Altisidora hearing these words, made a semblance to be very angry: so that, as it were in a great anger, she thus bespoke him, I swear by the Prince of the Mu●… ps, the soul of a mortar, and ston of a Date; more obstinate and hard-hearted, then a rude and base peasant when one sueth unto him, and when he addresseth his ●euell to the Butt or mark: if I take you in hand, I will pluck your very eyes out of your head.  
do you haply suppose, Sir vanquished, and Don Knocktdowne with Bats and Cudgels, that I would haue dyde for you? No, no, Sir, whatsoever you haue seen this night, hath been nothing but a fiction, or thing feigned. I am not a Maiden, that would suffer so much as the least-least pain at the tip of my nailes for such a camel as you are; much less that I would die for such a gross animal.  
I beleeue it well( quoth Sancho then) for all these louers deaths are but to cause sport and laughter. Well may they say, that they die: but that they will hasten their deaths, Iudas may beleeue it if he 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, he thus said unto him, Sir Knight, I beseech you to hold me in the number of your humblest seruants. I haue long since been most affectionate unto you, as well by reason of your farre-bruted renown, as for your high-raised feats of arms.  
Tell me( answered Don Quixote) who you are, that my courtesy may answer your merit.  
The youngman gave him to understand, that he was the Musician and the Panegiricke of the fore-passed night.  
In good soothe( replied Don Quixote) you haue a very good voice: nevertheless me seems, that what you sung, was not greatly to the purpose: for, what haue the Stanza's of Garcilasse to do with the death of this damosel? My faire Sir, said the Musician, you ought not to wonder at that: The best& choicest Poets of our age do practise it: so that every man writes as best pleaseth his fantasy, and stealeth what, and from whom he lists, whether it co-here with the purpose or not. By reason whereof, all the follies, absurdities, or fopperies that they sing, indite, or write, they ascribe unto a poetical licence.  
Don Quixote would haue answered, but he was hindered by the Duke and duchess, who both entred the Chamber to see him. Amongst whom there passed so long a discourse, and pleasant a conference, in which Sancho alleged so many ready quips, witty conceits, merry proverbs, and therewithal so many wily shifts, and subtle knaveries, as the Duke and the duchess were all astonished again; as well by reason of his simplicity, as of his subtlety.  
Don Quixote besought them to give him leave to depart the very same day; since that Knights subdued as he was, ought rather to dwell in an homely Cottage, or simplo  shed, then in Kingly Palaces: which they most willingly granted him: And the duchess demanded of him, whether Altisidora was in his good favour, or no. madam,( answered Don Quixote) you are to understand, that all the infirmity of this damosel, takes it's beginning and being from idleness, and that an honest occupation, and continual exercise is the onely remedy for it. She was even now telling me, that in hel they are working tapestry work, and that there are made Tyrings and Net-workes.  
I think that she is skilful in such works, and that's the reason she therein employs herself, never ceasing to handle small Spindles or Spooles: and thus the images of him she loveth will never be removed in her imagination.  
What I tell you is most certain: It is my opinion, it is my counsel.  
And mine also, quoth Sancho, since I never saw any workman, that applied or busied himself about such works, that dyde for love. The Maidens, I say, occupied about such works, think more on the accomplishing of their task, then on that of their Loues. I judge of it by myself, whilst I am digging or deluing, I never think on my Pinkaney at all; I speak of my Teresa Pansa, whom I love better a thousand times, then my very eye-lids.  
Sancho, you speak very well, said the duchess: and I will take such order, as my Altisidora shall henceforward occupy herself about such works: for, she can work them excellently well.  
madam( quoth Altisidora) I shall not need to use such a remedy, since the remembrance 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 permission, I will be gone from hence, that so mine eyes may not behold not onely his filthy and ghastly shape; but his ugly and abominable countenance.  
The words( replied the Duke) which you utter, make me remember the old proverb, which teacheth us, that he who sharply chides, is ready to pardon.  
Altisidora made a show to dry up the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief; and then making a very low curtsy unto her Master and mistress, she went out of the Chamber.  
Alas, poor Damozel( said then Sancho) I fend thee ill lucke, since thou hast already met with it, in lighting vpon a soul made of a Skuttle, and a heart of oak. Hadst thou had to do with me, thou shouldst haue found a Cock of me, that would haue crowed after another fashion.  
Thus their discourse broke off; Don Quixote took his clothes, dined with the Duke and duchess, and in the afternoon went his way.   

CHAP. LXXI.  
Of what befell Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho Pansa, in their travell towards their Village.  
THe vanquished Knight errand, Don Quixote de la Mancha went on his journey, very sad and pensive on the one side, and most glad and buck-some on the other. From his being conquered proceeded the cause of his sadness; and his gladness, in considering the worth and virtue of Sancho, whereof he gave manifest evidence in the resurrection of Altisidora; although with some scruple he persuaded himself, that the enamoured damosel was not verily dead.  
Sancho was no whit well pleased, but chafed to himself, because Altisidora had not kept promise with him, and given him the Shirts he expected at her hands. And therefore musing and pondering on them, he said to his Master, By my faith, Sir, I am the most unfortunate Physician, that may be found in the world. There be some leeches, that kill a sick man whom they haue under cure, and will nevertheless be well paid for their pains. Now all they do, is but to writ a short Bill of certain medicines, which the Apothecary, and not they, doth afterward compound: Whereas I, clean contrary, to whom the recovery and health of others doth cost many a clod of blood, many a flirt and bob, many a bitter frump, and many a lash with whips and rods, reap not so much as one poor farthing.  
But certainly I promise you, if any diseased or sick body fall into my hands again, before I cure vm, I'll be very well greazed for my pains. For, the Abbot liveth singing, and I can not think, that the heauens haue endowed me with the virtue and knowledge I haue, to the end I should communicate and impart the same unto others for nothing.  
My good friend Sancho( answered Don Quixote) thou art in the right,& Altisidora hath done very ill, that she hath not given thee the shirts, which she promised thee, although that virtue& propriety which thou hast, haue been given thee gratis, and that in learning and studying it, thou hast not been at a penny charge: nevertheless, the troubles and vexations, which thou hast received, and endured in thine own person, are far more, then all the studies that thou couldst haue undergone or employed about it. As for me, I can tell thee, that if thou wouldest haue had the full pay for the whip-lashes, that thou shouldst give thyself for dis-enchanting of Dulcinea, thou hadst already fully received it. Yet know I not whether the wages or hire, will answer the cure, or recovery, and I would not haue it be an hindrance to the remedy. Me seems notwithstanding, that one shall lose nothing in the trial.  
Consider, Sancho, what thou wilt haue, and forthwith whip thyself, and with thine own hands pay thyself downright, since thou hast money of mine in thy keeping.  
Sancho presently opened his eyes and ears a foot wide at these kind offers, and took a resolution with a cheerful heart to whip and lash himself: and therefore said unto his Master, Now is the time, my Noble Sir, that I will wholly dispose myself to give you satisfaction, since I shall reap some benefit by it. The love of my children and my wife, induceth me to haue no regard at all unto the harm or ill, that may thereby come unto me.  
Tell me then, what will you give me for every stripe or lash? If I were bound to pay thee( replied Don Quixote) equivalent to the greatness and quality of the remedy, the treasure of Venice, and the rich Mynes of Peru, would not suffice to recompense thee. look well thyself, what thou hast of mine, and value every lash as thou wilt. The whip-lashes( quoth Sancho) are in number three thousand, three hundred and odd: I haue already given myself five, the other remain behind. Let the five serve to deduct the odd number remaining, and let all be reduced to three thousand and three hundred. My meaning is, to haue for every lash a piece of three blanks,( and less I will not haue, should all the world command me the contrary) so that they will amount to 3300. pieces of three blanks. The three thousand, make a thousand and five hundred half rials, and they make seven hundred and fifty whole rials; and the three hundred make one hundred& fifty half rials, which amount unto the sum of three score and fifteen rials, which, added unto the seven hundred and fifty, the whole sum amounteth unto eight hundred and five and twenty rials.  
I will reckon this sum, and deduct it from that I haue of yours in my keeping, and by this means shall enter into my house both rich and well satisfied, albeit well whipped and scourged: for, Trouts are not caught with nothing, and I say no more.  
Oh thrice-happy Sancho! oh amiable Sancho( said Don Quixote) how am I and Dulcinea bound to serve thee, so long as the Heauens shall be pleased to give us life? If she recover her first being, and if it be impossible to continue still in that state, her misfortune shall prove most fortunate, and my defeat or conquest, a most glorious and happy triumph. Then look, Sancho, when thou wilt begin this discipline, and I will give thee one hundred rials over and above, that so I may bind thee to begin betimes. When( replied Sancho?) even this very night. Be you but pleased, that this night we meet in the open fields, and you shall see me open, gash, and flay myself.  
To be short, the night came, which Don Quixote had with all manner of impatience long looked for: to whom it seemed that the wheels of Apollo's Chariot had been broken, and that the day grew longer then it was wont, even as it happeneth unto Louers, who think that they shall never come to obtain the accomplishment of their desires. At last they entred a grove of delightsome trees, which was somewhat remote, and out of the high way. After they had taken off the Saddle and Pack-saddle of Rosinante and Dapple, they sate down vpon the green grass, and supped with such victuals as Sancho had in his Wallets.  
This good Squire having made of Dapples halter or headstall, a good big whip or scourge, he went about twenty paces from his Master, and thrust himself among bushes and hedges.  
Don Quixote seeing him march thus all naked, and with so good a courage, began thus to discourse unto him, Take heed, good friend, that thou hack not thyself in pieces, and that the stripes and lashes stay the one anothers leisure; thou must not make such hast in thy career, that thy wind or breath fail in thy course. My meaning is, that thou must not lash thyself so hard and fast, that thy life faint, before thou come to thy desired number: But to the end that thou lose not thyself for want of a pair of writing-tables, more or less, I will stand aloof off,& vpon these my prayer-beades will number the lashes that thou shalt give thyself. Now the heauens favour thee, as thy good meaning well deserveth.  
A good Pay-master( answered Sancho) will never grudge to give wages; I think to cury or so be-labour myself, that without endangering my life, my lashes shall bee sensible unto me, and therein must the substance of this miracle consist. And immediately Sancho stripped himself bare from the girdle upward, and taking the whip in his hand, began to ribbe-baste and lash himself roundly; and Don Quixote to number the stroke. When Sancho had given himself seven or eight stripes, he thought he had killed himself; so that pausing while, he said to his Master, that he was very much deceived, and would therfore appeal, forsomuch as every whip-lash did in lieu of a piece of three Blanks, deserve half a Ryall.  
Make an end, my friend Sancho,( quoth Don Quixote) and be not dismayed; for I will redouble thy pay.  
Now by my life then( quoth Sancho) blows shall shower vpon me as thick as hail: but the Mountibanke and cheating companion, in stead of lashing his shoulders, he whipped the trees, and so sighingly groaned at every stroke, that you would haue thought his soul had flown out of his body.  
Don Quixote, who was now full of compassion, fearing he would kill himself, and that, through the folly of Sancho, his desires should not be accomplished, began thus to say unto him, Friend, I conjure thee, let this business end here: This remedy seems to me very hard and sharp. It shall not be amiss that we give time unto Time; for, Rome was never built in one day. If I haue  told right, thou hast already given thyself more then a thousand lashes: it now sufficeth, let me use a homely phrase) that the ass endure his charge, but not the surcharge.  
No, no, my good Sir, answered Sancho, it shall never be said of me, Money well paid, and the arms broken. I pray you go but a little aside, and permit me to give myself one thousand stripes more, and then we shall quickly make an end; yea, and we shall haue more left behind. Since thou art so well disposed, replied Don Quixote, I will then withdraw myself, may the heauens assist and recompense thee.  
Sancho returned to his task, with such an earnest passion, that the bark of many a three fell off, so great was the rigour and fury wherewith he scourged himself. Now in giuing such an exceeding and outrageous lash vpon a hedge, he cried out aloud, here is the place where Samson shall die, with all those that are with him.  
Don Quixote ran presently at the sound of that woeful voice, and at the noise of that horrible whip-stroke. Then laying fast hold on the Halter, which served Sancho in lieu of an Oxe-pizell, he said to him, Friend Sancho, let Fortune never permit, that thou, to give me contentment, hazard the loss of thy life, which must serve of the entertainment of thy Wife and Children. I will contain myself within the bounds of the next hope, and will stay until thou haue recovered new strength, to the end this business may be ended, to the satisfaction of all parties.  
My good Sir( quoth Sancho) since you will needs haue it so, in good time be it. In the mean while, I beseech you, Sir, cast your cloak vpon my shoulders. I am all in a sweat, and I would be loth to take could. Our new disciplinants run the like danger.  
Don Quixote did so, and leaving himself in his doublet, he covered Sancho, who fell asleep, and slept until the sun awakened him. They kept on their way so long, that at last they arrived to a place three Leagues off, and at last stayed at an inn.  
Don Quixote knew it to be an inn, and not a Castle round environed with ditches or trenches, fortified with Towers, with Port-cullisses, and strong draw-bridges: for, since his last defeature he discerned and distinguished of all things that presented themselves unto him with better iudgement, as we shall presently declare.  
he was lodged in a low chamber, to which certain olde-worne curtains of painted Serge served in lieu of tapestry hangings, as commonly they use in Country Villages. In one of the pieces might be seen painted by a bungling and vnskilfull hand, the rape of heal, at what time her fond-hardy guest stolen her from Menelaus. In another was the history of Dido and Aeneas; Shee on an high Turret, with a sheet making sign unto her fugitive guest, who on the Sea, carried in a Ship, was running away from her.  
Don Quixote observed in these two stories, that heal seemed not to be discontented with her rape; for so much as shee leered and smiled underhand; whereas beauteous Dido seemed to trickle down tears from her eyes as big as Walnuts. Don Quixote in beholding this painted work, said; These two Ladies were exceedingly unfortunate, that they were not born in this age, and I most of all thrice-vnhappy, that I was not born in theirs; In faith I would so haue spoken to these Lordly gallants, as Troy should not haue been burned, nor Carthage destroyed, since that onely by putting Paris to death, I should haue been the occasion that so many mischiefs would never haue happened.  
I hold a wager( quoth Sancho) that ere long there shall be never a tippling-house, tavern, inn, Hostery, or Barbers shop, but in them all we shall see the History of our famous acts painted: nevertheless I would wish with all my hart, that they might bee drawn by a more cunning and skilful hand, then by that which hath pourtraid these figures.  
Thou hast reason, Sancho( answered Don Quixote:) for, this Painter is like unto Orbanegia, who dwelled at Vbeda, who when he was demanded what he was painting, made this answer, That which shall come forth to light: And if perchance he drew a cock, he would writ a above it, This is a cock, lest any man should think it to be a fox. Now me thinks, Sancho, that such ought to be the Painter or the Writer: ( for all is one same thing) who hath set forth the History of this new Don Quixote, because he hath painted or written that which may come forth to the open light. He hath imitated a certain Poet name Mauleon, who the last year was at the Court, who suddenly would make answer to whatsoever was demanded him. And as one asked him one day, what these words Deum de Deo signified, he answered in Spanish, De donde diere. But omitting all this, tell me Sancho, Hast thou a mind to give thyself another touch this night, and wilt thou haue it to be under the roof of a house, or else in the open air?  
Now I assure you( quoth Sancho) for the stripes and lashes that I intend to give myself, I love them as well in the house as in the open fields: yet with this proviso, that I would haue it to be amongst trees; for me thinks, that they keep me good company, and do exceedingly help me to endure and undergo my travell and pains.  
Friend Sancho( said Don Quixote) that shall not be: rather reserve them, that you may exercise them when we shall be arrived at our Village, whither at the furthest we shall reach the next day after to morrow; and in the mean time thou shalt haue recovered new strength.  
Sancho answered, that he might do what best pleased him; but notwithstanding he desired to dispatch this business in hot blood, and whilst the Mill was going; for, dangers consist often in lingering and expectation, and that with prayers unto God, a man must strike with his mallet; that one; Take it, is more worth then two, Thou shalt haue it: and better is one sparrow in the hand, then a vulture flying in the air.  
Now for Gods sake, Sancho( replied Don Quixote) let us not allege so many proverbs; me thinks thou art still returning unto Sicut erat I prithee speak plainly, clearly, and go not so about the bush with such embroiling speeches, as I haue often  told thee: and thou shalt see, that one loaf of bread will yield thee more then an hundred.  
I am so unlucky( quoth Sancho) that I cannot discourse without proverbs, nor can I allege a proverb, that seems not to be a reason unto me: nevertheless, if I can, I will correct my self, and with that they gave over their enterparlie at that time.   

CHAP. LXXII.  
How Don Quixote and Sancho arrived at their Village.  
DOn Quixote and Sancho looking for night, stayed in that inn: the one to end in the open fields, the task of his discipline; and the other to see the success of it, whence depended the end of his desires. During which time, a Gentleman on horseback, followed by three or four seruants, came to the gate of the inn, to whom one of his attendants said thus; My Lord Don Aluaro Tarfe, you may here rest yourself, and pass the great heat of the day. This inn seemeth to be very cleanly and cool.  
Which speech Don Quixote hearing, he said unto Sancho, Thou oughtest to know, that when I turned over the book 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 us see him alight from his horse, and then we will speak unto him.  
The Knight alighted, and the hostess appointed him a low chamber, near unto that of Don Quixote, and which was furnished with like figures of painted Serge. The new-come Knight did forth-with put off his heavy clothes, and now going out of the Inne-porch, which was somewhat spacious and fresh, under which Don Quixote was walking, he demanded of him, Whither go you, my good Sir Gentleman? I am going( answered Don Quixote) unto a certain Village not far off, where I was born. And you, my Lord, whither go you? I travell( said the Knight) towards Granada, which is my native Country. Sir, you were born( replied Don Quixote) in a very good Country; In the mean time, I pray you in courtesy, 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 undoubtedly( 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 modern Author hath lately set forth. I am the very same man of whom you speak( said the Knight) and that Don Quixote who is the principal subject of such an History, was my very great friend.  
It was even I that drew him first out of his village, or at least that persuaded him to be at the entrusts and Tiltings which were then kept at Saragosa, and whither I was going: and in good truth I did him a great favour; for I was the cause that the hangman did not well claw and bum-baste his back, having rightly deserved such a punishment, because he had been ouer-rash and foolhardy.  
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 speak? Nothing at all, answered the other. And did that Don Quixote( replied our Knight) conduct with him a Squire name Sancho Pansa? Yes verily,( quoth Don Aluaro) And the report went, that this Squire was very blithe, pleasant, and gamesome; but yet I never heard him speak any thing with a good garb 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 jesting: and the very same Sancho of whom you speak( my Lord the Gentleman) must be some notorious rogue, some greedy-gut, and notable thief. 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 year, and you shall then see, that at every step I shall speak so many unpleasant things, that very often without knowing what I utter, I make all them to laugh that listen unto me. In good soothe, Don Quixote de la Mancha, the far renowned, the valiant, the discreet, the amorous; he who is the redresser of wrongs, the revenger of outrages, the tutor of infants, the guardian of orphans, the Rampire or fortress of widows, the Defender of Damozels and Maidens: he who hath for his onely mistress, the matchless Dulcinea deal Toboso, is the very same Lord whom you see here present, and who is my good Master. All other Don Quixotes, and all other Sancho Pansa's are but dreams, fopperies, and fables.  
Now by my holydom I beleeue as much( answered Don Aluaro;) for, in those few words by you even now uttered, you haue shewed more grace then ever did the other Sancho Pansa, in al the long& tattling discourses that I haue heard come from him. He savoured more of the Gourmand, then of a well-spoken man; more of a Coxe-combe, then of a pleasant. Without doubt I believe, 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 merit at all. nevertheless, I wot not well what to say of it, since I durst swear, that I left him at Toledo in the Nuncio his house, to the end he might be cured and healed, and behold here another Don Quixote, but far 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 manifest trial of my saying, my Lord Don Aluaro Tarfe, if you please, you shall understand, that in all my life-time I was never at Saragosa. And having of late understood, that the imaginary Don Quixote had been present at the tournaments and Tiltings in that City, I would by no means come or go into it, that in view of all the world I might manifest his false tale: Which was the reason that I went straight unto Barselona, the treasury or store-house of all courtesy, the retreat and refuge of all strangers, the relieving harbour of the poor and needy, the native home of valorous men, where such as bee wronged or offended, are avenged; and where true friendships are reciprocal, and in sum, a City that hath no peer, be it either for beauty, or for the faire situation of it.  
And albeit what hath befallen me bring me no great contentment, I do notwithstanding somewhat alloy the grief with the pleasure, which by the sight thereof I haue received& felt.  
To conclude, my Lord Don Aluaro Tarfe, I am Don Quixote de la Mancha, and the very same man of whom famed speaketh, and not he, that unhappy wretch, who to honour himself with my designs, hath gone about to usurp my name.  
In the mean while I humbly beseech you, by the profession which you make to be a Noble Knight, that before the ordinary judge of this place, you will be pleased to make me a declaration and certificate, how, so long as you haue lived, even until this present hour, you never 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 he whom you heretofore haue known.  
I shall do it with all my heart,( quoth the Knight Don Aluaro) 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 again and again&, I assuredly beleeue that I haue not viewed what I haue seen, and that what hath happened unto me concerning this subject, hath not befallen at all.  
Without doubt, my Lord, then said Sancho, it is very likely that you are enchanted, even as my Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is: would to God that your dis-enchanting might be brought to pass with giuing other three thousand and odd whip-lashes, as I do for her; I would most willingly give them unto myself, without any interest at all.  
I know not what you mean( quoth Don Aluaro) by these whip-lashes. To whom Sancho said, that it would be too long a discourse to relate; but yet he would make him acquainted with the whole story, if peradventure they should both travell one same way.  
By this time the hour of dinner was at hand, and they fed and ate together. At the very same time the judge of the place came into the inn, attended on by a clerk or Notary, whom Don Quixote required that he would take a certificat or declaration, which this Knight Don Aluaro Tarfe would declare unto him: forsomuch as it did highly concern his honor and reputation.  
Now the Tenor of this Declaration was, that the said Gentleman did in no sort know Don Quixote, who was there present, and that he was not the man, whose name they had lately imprinted in an History, entitled, The second Part of Don Quixote de la Mancha, composed by Abellaneda, born at Tordesillas.  
To conclude, the judge engrossed all according to the form of Law. The Declaration was made in form and manner as all Notaries are accustomend to be, in such and the like cases. By which means Don Quixote and Sancho restend very glad, and well paid, as if such a declaration had been of very great moment and consequence unto them,& as if their actions& speeches had not apparently shewed the difference and odds that was between the two Don Quixotes, and the two Sancho's.  
Diuers compliments, and many offices& offers of courtesy did mutually enterpasse between Don Aluaro,& Don Quixote, wherein our heroyke Knight de la Mancha, declared so much wisdom, and such discretion, that he resolved Don Aluaro of the doubt wherein he was: For, he persuaded himself that he was enchanted, since with his own hands he felt and touched two Don Quixotes so different and contrary one to another.  
Mid-day being past, and the heat allayed, they departed from that place all together. They had not gone above half a league, but they met with two several paths, the one lead to Don Quixotes Village, and the other to the place wither Don Aluaro was going.  
During which little space, Don Quixote related at large unto him, the disaster of his overthrow, the enchantment, and the remedy of Dulcinea. All which things bread and caused a new admiration in the mind of Don Aluaro, who kept on his way, and Don Quixote his.  
Our Knight passed that night among the trees, to the end he might give Sancho means and lay sure to fulfil his penance, which he accomplished even as he had done the fore-passed night, more at the charges of the hedges, shrubs, and trees there growing, then of his back and shoulders. For he kept them so safe and well, that the lashes which he gave himself, would not haue caused a fly to stir, had shee taken up her stand there.  
Don Quixote thus abused, lost not one stroke with misreckoning, and found that those of the fore-going night, joined unto these, were just the sum of three thousand, nine and twenty.  
It seemed the sun rose that morning earlier then his wont, to behold this sacrifice, and they perceiving that it was bright day, went on their journey, discoursing of the error wherein Don Aluaro was, and how they had done very well in taking a declaration before the judge, and that so authentically.  
They wandred all that day, and the night succeeding, without encountering any thing worthy the relation, unless it be, that the very same night Sancho finished his whipping task, to the great contentment of Don Quixote, who greedily longed for peep of day, to see if in their travels they might meet with his sweet mistress Dulcinea, who was now disenchanted.  
Thus answering, they met no woman, but they would approach& close with her, to take perfect view of her, and to discern whether it were Dulcinea of Toboso, confidently assuring themselves, as of an infallible truth, that the promises of the prophet Merlin could not possibly prove false.  
whilst they were musing on these things, and their longings increasing, they unawares ascended a little hillocke, whence they discovered their Village. Which Sancho had no sooner perceived, but he prostrated himself on his knees, and uttered these words;  
Oh my deare-dearely-beloued, and long desired native country, open thine eyes, and behold how thy son Sancho returns at last to thee again: who if he be not very rich, yet is he at least very well whipped and lashed. Open thine arms likewise, and friendly receive thy son Don Quixote. And if he returneth to thee vanquished by the force of a strange arm, he yet at least returneth conqueror of himself. And as himself 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 gave me sound whip-lashes, I found much good in being a worthy Knight.  
Let us leave these fooleries, said Don Quixote, and forthwith wend unto our Village, where we will give free passage unto our imaginations and prescribe unto ourselves the form and method, that we are to keep and observe in the rural or pastoral life, which we intend to put in practise. Thus reasoning together, they faire and gently descended the hillock, and approached to their Village.   

CHAP. LXXIII.  
Of the presages and fore-boadings, which happened to Don Quixote, at the entrance into his Village; with other adventures, which serve for grace and ornament unto this famous History, and which give credit unto it.  
CID Hamete reporteth, that as they were come near unto the entrance into their Village, Don Quixote perceived how in the Commons thereof there were two young Lads, who in great anger contested and disputed together. The one said to the other, Pierrot, thou must not chafe nor bee angry at it: For, as long as thou livest, thou shalt never set thine eyes vpon her. Which Don Quixote hearing, he began this speech unto Sancho; Friend( said he) dost not thou understand what yonder young Lad saith? So long as thou livest thou shalt never set eyes vpon her.  
And what imports( quoth Sancho) what that young Lad hath spoken? What( replied Don Quixote?) seest thou not, how that applying the words unto mine intention; his meaning is, that I shall never see my Dulcinea? Sancho was about to answer him, but he was hindered by an Hare, which chased, crossed their way. She was eagerly pursued by diuers Gray-hounds and Hunts-men, so that fearfully amazed she squatted down between the feet of Dapple.  
Sancho boldly took her up, and presented the same unto Don Quixote, who cried out aloud, Malum signum, malum signum: A Hare runs away, Gray-hounds pursue her, and Dulcinea appears not. You are a strange man( then quoth Sancho, let us imagine that this Hare is Dulcinea, and the Gray-hounds which pursue her, the wicked Enchanters, that haue transformed her into a Country-Lasse. She runs away, I take her up, and deliver her into your own hands: you hold her in your arms, you hug and make much of her. What ill-boading may this be, and what misfortune can be implide vpon this?  
In the mean while, the two young Boyes came near unto them to see the Hare: and Sancho demanded of one of them the cause or ground of their brabbling controversy? Then he, who had uttered the words, So long as thou livest, thou shalt never set eyes vpon her, related unto Sancho, how that he had taken from the other Boy a little Cage full of Crickets, and that he never purposed to let him haue it again. Then Sancho pulled out of his pocket a piece of six blanks, and gave it to the other Boy for his Cage, which he put into Don Quixotes hands, saying thus unto him, Behold, good Sir, all these fond Sooth-sayings and ill presages are dashed and overthrown, and haue now nothing to do with our adventures,( according to my understanding, although I be but a silly guile) no more then with the last yeeres snow. And if my memory fail me not, I think I haue heard the Curate of our Village say, that it fits not good Christians and wise folkes to stand vpon such foolish fopperies.  
It is not long since you  told me so yourself, and gave me to understand, that all such Christians, as plodded& amused themselves vpon augurs or divinations, were very fools. And therefore let us no longer trouble ourselves with them, but let us go on, and enter into our Village. There whilst the hunters came in, they demanded to haue their Hare, and Don Quixote delivered the same unto them.  
Then he and Sancho kept on their way; and at the entrance into the Village, in a little meadow, they met with the Curate, and the Bachelor Carrasco, who with their Beads in their hands were saying their prayers.  
It is to be understood, that Sancho Pansa had placed vpon Dapple, and vpon the farthel of their weapons the lacket or Gaberdine of Boccasin all painted over with fiery flames, which was vpon him in the Dukes Castle; the night that Altisidora rose again from death to life: which iubb or jacket served them in stead of a Carpet or Sumpter-cloth.  
They had likewise placed vpon the Asses head the mitre, whereof we haue spoken before. It was the newest kind of transformation, and the fittest decking or array, that ever ass did put vpon his head.  
The Curate and the Bachelor knew them incontinently, and with wide-open arms ran towards them.  
Don Quixote alighted presently and very kindly embraced them. But the little children, who are as sharpe-sighted as any lynx, having eyed the Asses mitre, flocked suddenly about them to see the same, saying the one to the other, Come, come, and run all you Camarados, and you shall see Sancho Pansa's ass more brave& gallant then Mingo: and Don Quixote's Palfry leaner, fainter, and more flaggy then it was the first day.  
Finally, being environed with a many young children, and attended on by the Curat and Bachelor, they entred the Village, and went directly unto Don Quixote's house. At the door whereof they met with his Maid-seruant, and with his niece, who had already heard the news of their coming.  
Teresa Pansa, the wife of Sancho, had likewise been advertised thereof. She ran all disheueled and half naked to see her Husband, leading her Daughter Sanchica by the hand. But when she saw, that he was not so richly attired as she imagined, and in that equipage a governor should be, she thus began to discourse with him, My Husband, after what fashion dost thou come home? me thinks thou comest on foot, and with toilsome traveling all tired and faint-hearted: Thou rather bearest the countenance of a miserable wretch, then of a governor.  
Hold thy peace Teresa( quoth Sancho:) for, oftentimes, when there be Bootes, there be no spurs. Let us go unto our house, and there thou shalt hear wonders. So it is, that I haue money, which is of more consequence, and I haue gotten it by mine own industry, without doing wrong to any body.  
Why then you haue money, my good Husband( replied Teresa?) That's very well. It is no matter how you came by it, be it by hook or crooke. For, after what manner soever you haue laid hands on it, you bring no new custom into the world. Sanchica embraced her Father, and asked him whether he had brought her any thing; and that she had as earnestly looked for him, as men do for due in the month of May.  
Thus his Wife holding him by the one hand, and his Daughter by the one side of his girdle, and with the other hand leading Dapple, they entred into their Cottage, leaving Don Quixote in his own house in the power of his niece and Maidseruant, and in the company of the Curat, and the Bachelor.  
Don Quixote, without longer delay, at that very instant drew the Bachelor and the Curate aside, and in few words related his being defeated unto them, and the Vow, which he had been forced to make, not to go out of his Village during the space of one whole year: how his purpose was fully to keep the same, without transgressing it one jot or atom: since that by the rules of Knight Errantry, and as he was a true Knight errand, he was strictly obliged to perform it. Which was the reason that he had resolved, during the time of that year, to become a shepherd, and entertain himself among the deserts and solitary places of that country, where he might freely vent out and give scope unto his amorous passions, by exercising himself in commendable and virtuous pastoral exercises: And now besought them, if they had no greater affairs in hand, and were not employed in matters of more importance, they would both be pleased to become his companions, and fellow-Shepheards. For, he would buy store of sheep, and get so sufficient a flock together, as they might well take vpon them the name of shepherds.  
And in the mean time, he gave them to understand, that the chiefest point of this business was already effected: for, he had already appointed them so proper and convenient names, as if they had been cast in a mould.  
The Curat would needs know these names. Don Quixote  told him, that himself would be called, the shepherd Quixotis: the Bachelor, the shepherd Carrascon; and the Curat, the shepherd Curambro; and as for Sancho Pansa, he should be styled Pansino.  
They were all astonished at Don Quixotes new folly: nevertheless, that he might not another time go out of his Village, and return to his Knight-hoods, and Caualliers tricks: and therewithal supposing, that in the space of this year he might be cured and recovered: they allowed of his design and new invention, and in that rural exercise offered to become his companions.  
We shall lead a pleasant life, said Samson Carrasco, since, as all the world knoweth, I am an excellent Poet, and shall every hand-while be composing of pastoral Ditties and Eglogues, or else some Verses of the Court, as best shall agree to our purpose. Thus shall we entertain ourselves by the ways we shall pass and go.  
But good Sirs, the thing that is most necessary, is, that every one make choice of the name of the shepherdess, whom he intendeth to celebrate in his Verses: and that there be no three, how hard and knurry soever, but therein we shall writ, carve, and engrave her name, even as amorous shepherds are accustomend to do.  
In good soothe, that will do passing well( quoth Don Quixote) albeit I need not go far to find out the name of an imaginary shepherdess; since I haue the neuer-matched or paralleled Dulcinea of Toboso, the glory of all these shores; the ornament of these meadows; the grace and comeliness of beauty; the cream and prime of all gracefulness: and( to be short) the subject, on which the extremity of all commendations may rightly be conferred, how hyperbolical soever it be.  
It is most true, said the Curate. But for us, we must seek out some barren Shepheardesses, and at least, if they bee not fit and proper for us, yet one way or other they may stead us, if not in the main, yet in the by. Although we haue none( quoth Samson Carrasco) yet will we give them those very names as we see in print, and wherewith the world is full. For we will call them Phillis, Amarillis, Diana, Florinda, Galathea, and Belisarda. Since they are publicly to be sold in the open market-place, we may very well buy them, and lawfully appropriate them unto ourselves.  
If my mistress, or, to say better, my shepherdess haue to name Anna, I will celebrate her under the style of Anarda; if she be called Francis, I will call her Francina; and if she hight lucy, her name shall be Lucinda: for, all such names square and encounter. As for Sancho Pansa, if he will be one of our fraternity, he may celebrate his wife Teresa Pansa under the name of Teresaina.  
Don Quixote burst out a laughing at the application of these names, whilst the Curat did infinitely commend and extol his honourable resolution, and again offered to keep him company all the time that he could spare, having acquitted himself of the charge unto which he was bound.  
With that they took leave of him, persuading, and entreating him to haue a care of his health, and endeavour to be merry.  
So it happened, that his niece and his Maid-seruant heard all the speeches, which they three had together: And when the bachelor and the Curat were gone from him, they both came near unto Don Quixote, and thus his niece bespoke him:  
What means this( my Lord, mine uncle?) Now when we imagined, that you would haue continued in your own house, and there live a quiet, a reposed and honourable life, you go about to cast yourself headlong into new Labyrinths and troubles, with becoming a swain or shepherd? Verily the corn is already ouer-hard to make Oaten-pipes of it.  
But how( quoth the Maid-seruant) can you endure and undergo in the open fields the scorching heat of Summer, and the could and frost of winter nights, and hear the howlings of wolves, without quaking for very fear? No truly, for so much as that belongs onely to such as are of a robust and Surly complexion, of a hard and rugged skin, and that from their Cradles are bread and enured to such a trade and occupation. If the worst come to the worst, it were better to bee still a Knight errand, then a shepherd.  
I beseech you, good my Lord, follow my counsel, which I give you, not as being full of wine and bread, but rather fasting, and as one, that haue fifty yeeres vpon my head. Abide still in your house, think on your domestike affairs, confess yourself often, serve God, do good unto the poor, and if any harm come to you of it, let me take it vpon my soul.  
Good Wenches hold your peace( replied Don Quixote:) for I know what I haue to do. In the mean while, let me be had to bed. me thinks I am not very well: yet assure yourselves, that whether I be an errand Knight, or a shepherd, I will carefully provide for all that you may stand in need of, and you shall see the effects of it.  
The niece and the Maidseruant, who without doubt were two merry good Wenches, laid him in his bed, and attended, and looked so well unto him, as they could not possibly haue done better.   

CHAP. LXXIIII.  
How Don Quixote fell sick: of the Will he made, and of his death.  
AS all human things being transitory, and not eternal, are ever declining from their beginnings, until they come unto their last end and period; but more especially the lives of men. And as that of Don Quixote had no privilege from heaven to continue in one estate, and keep it's course, his end surprised him, at what time he least thought of it. I wot not whether it procceded of the melancholy, which the sad remembrance of his being vanquished caused in him; or whether the disposition of the heauens had▪ so decreed: so it is, that a burning fever seyzed vpon him, which forced him to keep his bed six dayes.  
During which time, the Curate, the Bachelor, and the Barber, who were all his good friends, did very often visit him: and Sancho Pansa his good Squire never went from his bedside.  
They supposing, that the vexation and freting, which he felt for having been conquered; as also because he saw not the accomplishment of his desires, touching the dis-enchantment of Dulcinea, caused this sickness in him, endeavoured by all possible means to make him merry.  
The Bachelor desired him to be of good courage, and to rise, that they might begin their pastoral Exercise, and how he had already composed an Eglogue, which was nothing behind those that Sanazaro had compiled: That for the same purpose he had bought two goodly and faire dogges, and of great renown, for to keep their flock, whereof the one was called Barcino, and the other Butron; and how a shepherd of Quintanar had sold them to him.  
But for all this Don Quixote quitted not his sorrow, nor left off his sadness.  
His friends called for a physician, who was nothing well pleased with his pulse which he felt. And therefore he  told him, that whatsoever might happen, he should not do amiss 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 discourse, which neither his Niece, his maid, nor his Squire did: for, they were so deeply plunged in tears& weeping, as, had they seen ghastly death in the face, they could haue done no more.  
The Physician  told them plainly, that onely melancholy, and his troublesone cares were the cause of his death.  
Don Quixote entreated the company to leave him alone, because he had a great desire to sleep a while. They did so, and he had a sound nap( as they say) of six houres, so that the maid and his niece thought he would never haue waked again. Well, he waked at last, and with a loud and audible voice, he uttered these words; The Almighty God be for ever blessed, that hath done so much good for me. To be short, his mercies haue no bounds, they are neither shortened nor hindered by the sins of man.  
The niece listened with heedy attention unto her Vncles words, and perceiving that they were better couched, and wiser disposed then those he was accustomend to pronounce in al his sicknesses, she proposed this question unto him: My Lord and uncle, what is that you say? Is there any new matter befallen? what mercies do you speak off? or what sins of men? My good niece,( replied Don Quixote) the mercies I talk of, are those which God of his goodness hath at his instant conferred vpon me wretched sinner, and my sins haue been no stop or let unto them. I possess now a free and clear iudgement, and nothing overshadowed with the misty clouds of ignorance, which the continual reading and plodding on books of chivalry had overcast me withall.  
I aclowledge all these extrauagancies, and confess them to be but coozening tricks; and am aggreeued that this disabuse hath happened so late unto me, as it affords me no leisure to make amends for my oversight, by reading of other good books, and which might serve and tend to the enlightening of my soul. My dear niece, I feel myself near unto death, but I would not haue it to be such, as the surname of fool should rest vpon me; for, although I haue been foolish in my life, I desire not to confirm the truth of it in my death. And therefore my dear friend, go and cause the Curate, the Bachelor Samson Carrasco, and Master Nicholas the Barber to come immediately unto me. I desire to confess myself, and to make my last Will and Testament. His niece was eased of this labour, by the coming 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 yeeres gift, I am no more Don Quixote de la Mancha, but rather Alonso Quixano, unto whom my honest life and civil conversation hath heretofore appropriated the surname of Good. I am now a professed enemy to Amadis de Gaule, and of all the infinite rabble of his race. Now are all the profane Histories of errand chivalry hateful unto me; I now aclowledge my folly, and perceive the danger whereinto the reading of them hath brought me. But now, by the mere mercy of my God, become wise, at my own proper cost and charges, I vttely abhor them. When these three friends heard him speak so, they believed undoubtedly, that he was possessed with some new kind of foolishness. 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, do you speak in this manner? And now that we are so near hand to become shepherds, that so we may in singing mirth and jollity led a kind of Princely life, do you intend to become a hermit?  
Hold your peace, I pray you( replied Don Quixote) recollect your wits together, and let us leave all these discourses: That, which hath hitherto served me to my hurt and detriment, 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 haue a Confessor to shrift me, and a Notary to draw my last Will and Testament. In the extremity whereunto I now find and feel myself, a man must not make a iest of his soul: and therefore whilst Master Curate is taking of my Confession, let me haue a scrivener fetched.  
They stood all gazing one vpon another, wondering at Don Quixote's sound reasons, although they made some doubt to believe them. One of the signs which induced them to conjecture, that he was near unto Deaths door, was, that with such facility he was from a stark fool become a wise man. For, to the words already alleged, he 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 find out a Notary, who not long after came with him, and with Sancho Pansa. This good Squire having understood from the mouth of the Bachelor, that his Master was in a very bad estate, and finding his Maid-seruant and his niece weeping very bitterly, began like a mad-man with his own fists to thump and beate himself, and to shed brackish tears.  
The Confession being ended, the Curate came forth, and was heard to utter these words, Verily, verily, he is at his last gasp, and verily the good Alonso Quixano is become wise, and it is high time for him to make his last Will and Testament.  
These heavy news opened the sluices of the teares-full and swolne-blubbering eyes of the maid, of the nieces, and of his good Squire Sancho Pansa; so that they showered forth whole fountains of tears, and fetched from the very bottom of their aggrieved hearts, a thousand groaning sighs. For, in effect( as we haue already declared elsewhere) whilst Don Quixote was simply the good Alonso Quixano, and likewise when he was Don Quixote de la Mancha, he was ever of a mild and affable disposition, and of a kind and pleasing conversation: and therefore was he not onely beloved of all his household, but also of all those that knew him.  
In the mean space the Notary came, who after he had written the beginning of his Will; and that Don Quixote had disposed of his soul, with all the circumstances required and necessary in a true Christian: and that he was come unto the Legacies, he caused this to be written. Item, concerning a certain sum of money, which Sancho Pansa, whom I made my Squire, whilst my folly possessed me, hath yet in his custody. For so much as between him and me, there remain certain odd reckonings and accounts to bee made up, of what he hath received, and laid out, my will and pleasure is, that he be not tide to yield any account at all, nor bee in any bond for it: Nay rather, if any overplus 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 be absolutely his own, and much good may it do him.  
And as being then a fool, I was the cause that he 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 kingdom: For, the sincerity of his mind, and the fidelity of his comportments do well deserve it. Then addressing himself unto Sancho, he made this speech unto him, My dear friend, pardon me, that I haue given thee occasion to seem a fool as I was, in making thee to fall into the same error wherein I was fallen, that in the world there haue been, and still are errand Knights.  
Alas and welladay, my good Sir, answered Sancho throbbing and weeping; yield not unto death I pray you, but rather follow my counsel; which is, that you endeavour to live many faire yeeres. The greatest folly that any man can commit in this world, is to give himself over unto death without apparent cause, except he be wilfully slain, or that no other hand bring him to his end, but that of melancholy.  
Once more I beseech you, suffer not remissness or faintheartednes to overcome you. Rather rise out of your bed, and let us go into the fields attired like shepherds, as we were once resolved to do. It may come to pass, that we behind some bush or shrub shall find the Lady madam Dulcinea dis-enchanted, so that we shall haue no more business. If the vexation or irkesomenesse you feel to haue been vanquished, attempt to bring you unto death, let me undertake the blame, who will stoutly maintain in all places, and before all men, that you were overthrown and quelled, because I had not well girt your Palfrey Rosinante.  
And you haue seen and red in your books of chivalry, that it is an ordinary thing for one Knight to thrust another out of his saddle; and that he who is to day conquered, is to morrow a conqueror.  
It is most true( quoth Samson) and Sancho Pansa relates the very truth of such accidents.  
My Sirs,( replied Don Quixote) I pray you go not on so fast, since that in the nests of the last year, there are no birds of this year. whilom I was a fool, but now I am wise: Sometimes I was Don Quixote de la Mancha, but am now( as I haue already  told you) the good Alonso Quixano. Let my unfeigned repentance, and the truth of what I say, obtain this favour at your courteous hands, that you will haue the same estimation of me now, which you haue had heretofore. And so let Master Notary proceed.  
Item, I make and institute my niece Antoinette Quixana,( who is here present) general 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 haue bequeathed: And the first thing I would haue discharged, I purpose, shall bee the wages which I owe unto my Maid-seruant; and that, over and besides, she haue twenty ducats delivered unto her, to buy her some good clothes withall.  
Item, I appoint and institute Master Curate, and Master Samson Carrasco the Bachelor here present, to be the overseers and Executors of this my last Will and Testament.  
Item, my will and pleasure is, that if Antoinette Quixana my niece chance to mary, that it be to a man of whom diligent enquiry shall first be made, that he is utterly ignorant of books of chivalry, and that he never heard speech of them. And if it should happen, that he haue red them, and that notwithstanding my niece will, or take him to her Husband, that she utterly lose, and never haue any thing that I haue bequeathed her as an inheritance, all which, my Executors and assigns may, at their pleasure as shall seem good unto them, employ and distribute in pious uses.  
Item, I entreat the said Executors and overseers of my Will, that if by good fortune, they come to the knowledge of the Author, who is said to haue composed an History, which goes from hand to hand, under the Title of The second part of the heroic feats of arms of Don Quixote de la Mancha, they shall in my behalf most affectionately desire him to pardon me; for that I haue unawares given them occasion to writ so infinite a number of great extrauangancies and idle impertinencies: for so much as I depart out of this life with this scruple vpon my conscience, to haue given him subject and cause to publish them to the world.  
He had no sooner ended his discourse, and signed and sealed his Will and Testament, but a swooning and faintness surprising him, he stretched himself the full length of his bed. All the company were much distracted and moved thereat, and ran presently to help him: And during the space of three dayes, that he lived after he had made his will, he did swoon and fall into trances almost every hour.  
All the house was in a confusion and uproar: All which notwithstanding the niece ceased not to feed very devoutly; the Maid-seruant 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 mind of the inheritor the remembrance or feeling of the sorrow and grief, which of reason he should haue a feeling of the Testators death.  
To conclude, the last day of Don Quixote came, after he had received all the Sacraments; and had by many and godly reasons made demonstration to abhor all the books of errand chivalry.  
The Notary was present at his death, and reporteth, how he had never red or found in any book of chivalry, that any errand Knight died in his bed, so mildly, so quietly, and so Christianly as did Don Quixote.  
amid the wailefull plaints, and blubbering tears of the by-standers, he yielded up the ghost, that is to say, he died, which the Curate perceiving, he 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, he was deceased out of this life unto another, and dyed of a natural death. Which testificate he desired, to remove all occasions from some Authors, except Cid Hamete Benengeli falsely to raise him from death again, and writ endless 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 and Hamlets of la Mancha should contest, quarrel, and dispute among themselves the honor to haue produced him, as did the seven Cities of Greece for the love of Homer: wee haue not been willing to make mention and relate in this place, the doleful plaints of Sancho; nor those of the niece and Maid-seruant of Don Quixote, nor likewise the sundry new and quaint Epitaphs which were graven over his tomb; Content yourself 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 mark his deeds throughout,  
Death on his life triumphed not  
With bringing of his death about.   

The world as nothing he did prise,  
For as a scarecrow in mens eyes,  
He lived, and was their bugbear too;  
And had the luck with much ado,  
To live a fool, and yet die wise.   
In the mean while, the wise and prudent Cid Hamete Benengeli addressed this speech unto his writing pen: here it is( oh my slender quill, whether thou be ill or well cut) that thou shalt abide hanged vpon those racks whereon they hang spits and broaches, being there-unto fastened with this copper wire: There shalt thou live many ages, except some rash, fond-hardy and lewd Historian take thee down to profane thee. nevertheless, before they lay hands vpon thee, thou mayst, as it were by way of advertisement, and as well as thou canst, boldly tell them, Away, pack hence, stand a far off, you wicked butchers, and ungracious Souters, and touch me not, since to me onely it belongs to cause to be imprinted Cum bono privilegio Regiae Maiestatis. Don Quixote was born for me alone, and I had my birth onely for him. If he hath been able to produce the effects, I haue had the glory to know how to writ& compile them well. To be short, He& I are but one selfsame thing, maugre& in despite of the fabulous scribbler de Tordesillas, who hath rashly and malapertly dared with an ostrich course and bungling pen, to writ the prowess and high feats of arms of my valorous Knight.  
This farthel is too-too heavy for his weak shoulders, and his dull wit ouer-cold& frozen for such an enterprise. And if peradventure thou know him, thou shalt also aduise him to suffer the weary and already rotten bones of Don Quixote to rest in his sepulchre: For, it would be too great a cruelty, if contrary to all Orders and Decrees of Death, he should go about to make show of him in Castila the old, where in good soothe he lieth within a Sepulchre, laid all along, and unable to make a third journey and a new outrode. It is sufficient to mock those that so many wandring Knights haue made, that those two whereof he hath made show unto the world, to the general applause, and universal content of all Peoples and Nations that haue had knowledge of them, as well thorough the whole Countries of spain, as in all other foreign kingdoms. Thus shalt thou perform what a good Christian is bound to do, in giuing good counsel to him that wisheth thee evil. As for me, I shall rest contented and well satisfied to haue been the first that hath fully enjoyed the fruits of his writings, and that according to my desires; since I never desired any other thing, then that men would utterly abhor the fabulous impertinent and extravagant books of Chiualries: And to say truth, by means of my true Don Quixote, they begin already to stagger; for, undoubtedly such fables and flim-flam tales will shortly fail, and I hope shall never rise again.  
Farewell.   
FINIS.