THE Comical History OF DON QUIXOTE, As it is ACTED AT THE QUEENS THEATRE IN Dorset-Garden, By Their Majesty's Servants.  
PART I.  
Written by Mr. D'Urfey.  
LONDON, Printed for Samuel Briscoe, at the Corner of Charles-street, in Russel-street, Covent-Garden, 1694.   

To Her GRACE THE Duchess of ORMOND.  
DON Quixote having not only been well Received upon the Stage, but also having cleared himself with Reputation▪ from the Slunder and Prejudice which malicious Critics had resolved upon, to sully and blast him; I could not forbear suffering him to aspire to this Second Honour of Dedicating himself to your GRACE, from whose Noble and unbiased judgement, he may assure himself of an Obliging Reception, and a Generous Security.  
The Honour your Grace, and the rest of the Nobility and Gentry did me to see this Play in its Rehearsal or Undress, was a happy presage of its future good fortune; the Stars were all in conjunction to do me good; and I think I may safely say, without offence, That when the Ladies came to my Third Day, there never was at this time o'th' year, in the Hemisphere of the Playhouse, so dazzling and numerous a Constellation seen before.  
'Tis, Madam, from your GRACE's prosperous Influence that I Date my good Fortune; and I shall be very glad if this poor Offspring of my Brain, has Merit enough to deserve the Honour of a Smile from so Great and so Good a Patroness.  
Further, I dare not proceed on this Subject, lest I should involve myself rashly, in praise of what is even too great for praise itself, and so only show my own Ambition, in aspiring to write on so Glorious a Theme, without doing you any justice, who are always infinitely above what ever my Genius can ever pretend to in that Nature.  
The World, that knows the Noble Stock from which you sprung, are sensible that 'tis impossible for you to derogate from such flourishing and signalised Virtues; And those likewise that consider you, as the Happy Consort of the Great ORMOND, whose indefatigable Zeal to Serve His Majesty, and his afflicted Country, with his dearest Blood and Fortune abroad, leaves him scarce leisure to dry your Tears up for the last Parting, or pay his Paternal Blessing to his dear Children at home, aught to behold your Grace with double Reverence, and unite their Prayers and Wishes, that all things in his Absence may tend to your Comfort, satisfaction, and Honour; and that the troublesome Hours may run swiftly off, to give way to the transporting News of his Happy Return with Fame and Victory.  
One of these general Admirers of both your Matchless Leserts and Virtues, I beseech your Grace to believe me, whose Duteous Wishes are constantly Devoted to your Service— And now particularly, may the whole Hierarchy of Angels protect ye in the expected Hour of Trouble; and may the Rejoicing Worthy Part o'th' World be Blessed With another Noble, Loyal, and Valiant OSSORY Great and Admired as his Illustrious, and never to be forgotten Grandfather. And that this valued Blessing, and all other that can make your Grace, and that Truly Noble, and most Dearly Loved Hero abroad, Happy in one another; May Succeed as your Desire, is the Devotion and daily Wish  
Of MADAM, Your Grace's most Faithful, And most Humbe Servant T. D'URFEY.   

PROLOGUE.  Spoken by Mr. Betterton. 
IN hopes the coming Scenes your Mirth will raise  
To you, the Just pretenders to the Bays;  
The Poet humbly thus a Reverence pays  
And you, the Contraries, that hate the Pains  
Of Laboured Sense, or of Improving Brains:  
That feel the Lashes in a well-writ Play,  
He bids perk up and smile, the satire sleeps to Day.  
Our Sancho bears no Rods to make ye smart;  
Proverbs, and Merry jokes, are all his Part.  
The Modish Spark may Paint, and ●ie in Paste,  
Wear a huge Steinkirk twisted to his Waste;  
And not see here, how foppish he is Dressed.  
The Country Captain, that to Town does come,  
From his Militia Troop, and Spouse at home,  
To beat a London-Doxies Kettledrum:  
One, who not only th' whole Pit can prove,  
That she for Brass Half-crown has bartered Love:  
But the Eighteen-penny Whoremasters above,  
With his Broad Gold may Treat his Pliant Dear,  
Without being shown a Bubbled Coxcomb here.  
Grave Dons of Business, may be Bulker's Cullies,  
And Crop-eared Prentices set up for Bullies,  
And not one Horse-whip Lash here, flang their Follies;  
Nay▪ our hot Blades, whose Honour was so small,  
They'd not bear Arms, because not Colonels all:  
That wish the French may have a mighty Slaughter;  
But wish it safely,— on this side o'th' Water.  
Yet when the King returns, are all prepared  
To beg Commissions in the Standing-Guard;  
Even these, the Sons of Shame and Cowardice,  
Will 'scape us now, tho' 'tis a cursed Vice.  
Our Author has a famous Story chose,  
Whose Comic Theme no Person does expose,  
But the Knights-Errant; and pray where are those?  
There was an Age, when Knights with Lance and Shield,  
Would Right a Lady's Honour in the Field:  
To punish Ravishers, to Death would run;  
But those Romantic Days— alas, are gone;  
Some of our Knights now, rather would make one,  
Who finding a young Virgin, by Disaster,  
Tied to a Tree, would rather tie her faster.  
Yet these must 'scape too; so indeed must all  
Court-Cuckold-makers now not jest does maul;  
Nor the horned herd within you City-Wall.  
The Orange-Miss, that here Cajoles the Duke,  
May sell her Rotten Ware without rebuke.  
The young Coquet, whose Cheats few Fools can dive at,  
Day Trade, and th' Old Tope Kniperkin in private.  
The Atheist too on Laws Divine may Trample,  
And the Plump jolly Priest get Drunk for Church-Example.   

EPILOGUE.  By Sancho, Riding upon his Ass. 
'MOngst our Forefathers, that pure Wit professed,  
There's an old Proverb, That two Heads are best.  
Dapple and I have therefore jogged this way,  
Through sheer good Nature, to defend this Play:  
Tho' I've no Friends, yet he (as proof may show,)  
May have Relations here, for aught I know.  
For in a Crowd, where various Heads are addle,  
May, many an Ass be, that ne'er wore a Saddle.  
'Tis then for him that I this Speech intend,  
Because I know he is the Poet's Friend;  
And, as 'tis said, a perilous Ass once spoke,  
When Crabtree Cudgel did his Rage provoke;  
So if you are not civil, 'sbud, I fear,  
He'll speak again,—  
And tell the Ladies, every Dapple here.  
Take good Advice then, and with kindness win him,  
Tho' he looks simply, you don't know what's in him:  
He has shrewd Parts, and proper for his place,  
And yet no Plotter, you may see by's Face;  
He tells no Lies, nor does Sedition vent,  
Nor ever Brays against the Government:  
Then for his Garb he's like the Spanish Nation,  
Still the old Mode, he never changes Fashion;  
His sober Carriage too you've seen to day,  
But for's Religion, troth, I cannot say  
Whether for Mason, Burgis, Muggleton,  
The House with Steeple, or the House with None;  
I rather think he's of your Pagan Crew,  
For he ne'er goes to Church— no more than you.  
Some that would, by his Looks, guess his Opinion,  
Say, he's a Papish; others, a Socinian:  
But I believe him, if the truth were known;  
As th'rest of the Town-Asses are, of none;  
But for some other Gifts— mind what I say,  
Never compare, each Dapple has his Day,  
Nor anger him, but kindly use this Play;  
For should you with him, concealed Parts disclose,  
Lord! how like Ninneys, would look all the Beaus.   

Dramatis Personae.  
Men  By Don Quixote. A frantic Gentleman of the Mancha in Spain, that fancies himself a Knight Errand. Mr. Boen. Don Fernando. A young Nobleman. Mr. Powel. Cardenio. A Gentleman, that being treacherously deprived of Luscinda his Betrothed Mistress, fell Mad. Mr. Bowman. Ambrosio. A young Student, and Stranger, a Friend to chrusostom, and a great Woman-hater. Mr. Verbruggen. Perez. A Curate. Mr. Cibber. Nicholas. A merry Drolling Barber. Mr. Harrris. Sancho Panca. A dry shrewd Country Fellow, Squire to Don Quixote, a great speaker of Proverbs, which he blunders out upon all occasions, tho' never so far from the purpose. Mr. Doggett. 'Gins de Passamonte  Mr. Haines. Pallameque, galley-slaves.  Lope Ruiz, galley-slaves.  Quartrezzo, galley-slaves.  Tenorio, galley-slaves.  Martinez. galley-slaves.  Guarding the Slaves.  Officers. 2d. Barber.   Vincent. A humorous Host, or Innkeeper. Mr. Bright. Women.  By Marcelia, A young beautiful Shepherdess that hates Mankind, and by her scorn occasions the Death of chrusostom. Mrs. Bracegirdle. Dorothea, alias, Princess Micomicona, a young Virgin betrothed to Don Fernando, but deserted by him for Luscinda, but afterwards reconciled. Mrs. Knight. Luscinda, A young Lady betrothed to Cardenio, stolen from a Nunnery by Don Fernando, whom she fled thither to avoid. Mrs. Bowman. Teresa Pancha, Wife to Sancho, a silly credulous Country Creature. Mrs. Leigh. Marry the Buxom, Sancho's Daughter, a Rude, laughing, clownishHoyden, Incomparably Acted by Mrs. Verbruggen. Hostess,   Maritornes, Her Daughter.  The Body of Chrysostom.   Knights of several Orders.   Shepherds, Shepherdesses, Enchanters, Inchantresses, Singers, Dancers, and Attendants.    
The SCENE, Mancha in Spain,  
A Pleasant Champion with a Windmill in Prospect.   

THE Comical History OF DON QUIXOTE.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I. A Champion, with a Windmill at distance.  The Curtain Drawn, Don Quixote is seen Armed Cap-a-pee, upon his Horse Rosinante; and Sancho by him upon Dapple his Ass,— eating a bunch of Haws. Don Quix. 
SAncho.  San. 
Sir.  Don Q. 
We are now in pursuit of Valorous Adventures; entered into the pleasant Fields of Montiel, the Air is fragrant and delightful, and the Valley, near yonder Tuft of Verdant Trees, Cool and Shady; therefore let us alight— And prithee take the Bridle from Rosinante's Head, that he may the better taste the Refreshment of this flowery Pasture; and when thou hast done so, show the same Courtesy to thy own friend Dapple, for they have born us day with a fortitude and patience that exact from us, an answerable Return of Civility.  San▪ 
With all my Heart▪ Sir; and I wish that Dapples generosity could be as Civil to me, as I to him, and return me a good refreshing too, for as the Case of my Belly now stands, I find my fortitude and patience inclining to yield to the Giant Hunger; and methinks, I begin to wish my self an Ass too, that we might Improve good fellowship, and lovingly Dine together. Kissing Dapple.  Don Qu. 
Do not indulge thyself, too much upon thy Belly, good Sancho; an Epicure contradicts the function of the Squire of a Knight-Errant, entirely; go, do as I have ordered, and at thy return I will give thee the honour of a Conference.  San. 
If the Conference were to be over a good piece of Beef and Cabbage, I could confer not like any Clergyman; but I don't like these windy Exhortations without meat,— aside. Now am I to be fed with a tedious Tale of Knight-Errantry, when my Guts are all in uproar within me for want of better provision.  Exit with Rosin▪ and Dapple. Don Qu. 
The gross and sordid quality of this Fellow, gives me the better reflection upon myself, for as his thoughts are grovelling like his Nature, so mine are elevate like my Profession: On which let me now consider a little. What art thou? And what wouldst thou be, Don Quixote? A Renowned Knight-Errant, a Tamer of Giants, a Righter of Wrongs, a Defender of Virgins, a Protector of Justice; In fine, a Scourge to the Infamous World, and a noble Retriever of the Golden Age; but hold Illustrious Don, you are not Knighted yet, and consequently incapable of these Performances. What then? as I have read in Books of Chivalry, I may still undertake an easy Adventure, under the Title of the Maiden-Knight, till I receive that honour; and then proceed the glory of that function, the terror of all Miscreants, and the delight and wonder of ensuing Ages.  Re-enter Sancho. San. 
So, thanks be to Lady Flora, the Beasts are well provided for, Dapple is happy, he is exercising his Grinders yonder, whilst I carry mine here only for show; for the Devil of any other use will my Master let me have for 'em; See— now is he making his Dinner upon Cogitations, and I am to have the Scraps of 'em for mine▪ Honour and Air is always our fa●e. Oh Sancho, Sancho! What hast thou brought thyself to?  Don Qu. 
Oh Dulcinea del Toboso▪ Thou light of all Eyes, Empress of my Soul, and Sovereign Princess of my Heart and Vitals.  San. 
Ay, 'tis so, Thought of his supposed Mistress, a Murrain take her, is the first Course, and no doubt a Conceit of the next beating for her will be the second; Oo●s this is choice Diet, I grow damnably fat upon't; Oh Dunce! You must leave Wife and Children to go a Squiring, must ye? Well! can you eat Grass, good Squire? Can your Worship Dine upon Clovet, you may find Salleds in abundance, but like the Spanish Boors, your Countrymen, the Devil of any meat to 'em, most Noble Squire.  Don Qu. 
Now Animal of little Faith, and less Ingenuity, what are you grumbling at?  San. 
Why troth, Sir, if your Worship will needs know, my Belly and I have had a sharp Combat, it was grumbling at me for a good Dinner, and I was cramming it as well as I could with the good hopes of the Island your Worship has promised me, when you come to be Emperor of— what d''ee call it.  Don Qu. 
Empires, Sancho, have their Titles as various as the ways to Achieve 'em; but let it suffice thee, that when I am Dubbed Knight, as with the first opportunity I mean to be, Adventures of that Nature will flow in upon us; so that in the space that one may trim a Beard, an Empire may Drop into my Mouth, and an Island, or at least an Earldom into thine.  San. 
Pray Heaven my Government afford me Beef enough, to make amends for all these Days of Fasting: But I have found to my sorrow in your Service hitherto▪ that fair Words butter no Parsnips; he is blind enough that sees not through the Holes of a sieve; Desert and Reward seldom keep Company, and none are Fools always, tho' every one sometimes; better on bare Foot then no Foot at all; and thou art known by him that doth thee feed, not by him that doth thee breed; and he that—  Don Qu. 
Wheiw! a plague on thee, where the Devil art thou running with thy flim flams? what time of Year hence dost think I shall answer thee, if thou runnest on threading thy Proverbs at this rate.  San. 
Well, well, Sir, that's all one▪ Let every one be the Son of his own Works, for under the name of a Man one may become Pope; for my part, I see Land every day more than other, you promised Islands and Earldoms; but how you shall get 'em or I govern 'em is the question; the Sancho's know better how to govern a Plough than a Province; and since I have been your Squire I have got no preferment yet, but Cudgels and more Cudgels, blows, and more blouse I have been but three days out a Squiring, and if drubbing could get me an Island I have deserved one as big as Great Britain already.  Don Qu. 
Battles of Honour, Sancho, should not be disparaged by the base Epithet of drubbing; thou hast done Nobly, and as Noble shall be thy reward; therefore I once more tell thee, fear not thy Bones, and thou shalt be great, only because I know thou art an Admirer of Proverbs, always remember this— That Patience grows not in every one's Garden.  San. 
Ay, and pray, Sir, do you remember this, That there is not always good Cheer where there's a Smoking Chimney, and there's Proverb for Proverb;— But yet a plague on't, this plaguy Government wont out of my head, and methinks he promises it with as much Confidence as if he were Emperor already, and carried the Keys of it at his Girdle.— Let me see,— to be Don Sancho,— good; to sit upon my Velvet Cushions of State, and look big upon my Vassals,— good again; then to have my Wife be a Countess, and come to me in a Morning with— Good morrow my Lord the Governor, hah, ha, ha, very good, faith— Admirable! I am transported at the thoughts on't; therefore Bones ache, Guts grumble, I am resolved to be great in defiance of ye both.  Don Qu. 
Ha! What do I see!— Thanks to those propitious Stars that Usher my Renown and Fortune, occasion offers itself in a most glorious Adventure.  San. 
What's the matter now?  Don Qu. 
Seest thou that Giant, Sancho. points at the Scene.  San. 
Giant, Sir.  Don Qu. 
That monstrous Giant, with Arms almost two Leagues long! see how he swings 'em about, and fans himself to Cool his head.  San. 
I see no Giant, not I, I see a Windmill.  Don Qu. 
'Tis the dreadful Giant Caraculiambro, Tyrant of the Island Mallindrania, who devours every day to appease his hunger, ●2 new born Children baked, whose Bones he grinds between his Teeth to powder.  San. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— 'Tis the Giant Windmilliambro you mean, Tyrant of the Island of Wheat, Barley, and Oats, twelve Bushels of which he every day devours, and grinds the Grains between the Stones to powder.  Don Qu. 
See there, an Innocent Wretch dressed all in White, whom the horrid Cannibal is Just now drawing into his Mouth.  San. 
Oons! What Innocent? what Wretch? what Mouth? Why don't you see 'tis the Miller in his White Coat, going to carry a Sack into the Mill Door?  Don Qu. 
I tell thee 'tis one of the brood of Actaeon, whom I am obliged to cut off▪ from the face of the Earth; therefore Saddle Rosinante instantly, and if thou art afraid go aside thyself, and pray whilst I enter into Cruel and unequal Battle.  San. 
Battle, Gadsbud, Sir, are ye blind, will ye Battle a Windmill, have ye a mind your Brains should be dashed out with the Sails.  Don Qu. 
Jolt-head, to thee, they may seem Sails, but to me they are like the hundred Arms of its Brother Giant Briareus, whom I will Instantly Lop off and destroy, with whose spoils we will begin to be Rich.— Away, I say, that I may perform an Exploit for aftertimes to wonder at— Stand thou proud Miscreant, and fly me not; I will attack thee alone, Oh Beautiful and Adored Dulcinea, Influence now thy Knight, I beseech thee, I come Cannibal, I come,— Stay, stay, thou Monster,  Exit Don Quixote. Sancho. 
Stay, Stay, Ay you need not fear but the Windmill will stay for ye, d'sheart 'll'l be knocked o' th' Head now; and there's my Island gone before I come to't— Why Sir, Sir, come back for Shame: Ah Plague of his mad Pate, What a Devil shall I do with him.  Exit Sancho after him.  

SCENE II. An Inn.  Enter Perez and Nicholas. Nicho. 
Gone from her Father's House?  Perez. 
Most certainly, and as 'tis thought in search of Don Fernando, who forgetting all his former Vows and Promises of Marriage to her, as common Fame reports, suddenly intends to Wed Luscinda.  Nicho. 
Luscinda— Why 'tis in every one's Mouth that she has long since been Cardenio's Mistress.  Perez. 
Ay, and more than that— has been Betrothed to him; but that's all one▪ the old Man her Father's Love of Money, Luscinda's Frailty— and Don Fernando's Treachery, has it seems brought my poor Niece Dorothea to this Distress; and poor Cardenio to a worse; who, as 'tis said, stark Mad runs wild amongst yonder Mountains of Sierra Morena.  Nicho. 
But leaving this discourse, now le's mind our new Affair that we agreed on last Night about Don ' Quixote, when we heard the two Mad Fools, Master and Man, were gone a Knight Erranting.  Perez. 
I have been cudgeling my Brains ever since, with studying how to retrieve 'em; for I confess it troubles me, that a Man of clear Sense, good Learning, and sound Judgement, on all other Subjects and Affairs, should be so strangely bewitched upon the most ridiculous of all, Knight Errantry.  Nicho. 
'Tis indeed a strange Infatuation.  Perez. 
But I think I have employed my time very well to day in your absence, for whilst you have been enquiring which way the Whimsical Knight is gone, I, and the old Woman his House Keeper, have been burning his Books.  Nicho. 
That was our last Resolve, I remember, and will no doubt contribute to his Cure; for 'tis most certain, that those Romantic Books of Knighthood and Poetry have been the main Cause of all his Frantic Humours— but see here comes mine Host.  Enter Vincent Laughing. Vinc. 
Ha, hah, ha, ha, ha.  Nocho. 
How now mine Host; What price bears Oats and Barley, hah; What new Ambassador, or noble Guest, with his large Pockets crammed with Spanish Ducats, has made you so merry this morning.  Vinc. 
Ha, ha, ha ha,— Oh my Heart, Oh my Lungs,— ha, ha, ha, ha, Don Quixote, Don Quixote, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Perez. 
Why what of him—  Vinc. 
The Mad Fool has been charging a Windmill yonder, and swears 'twas a Giant; The Sails whisked him about like a Rat in a Mill Wheel, endangering his Neck every Minute, till at last, Fortune unwilling to spill the small quantity of Brains remaining, threw him some twenty yards off into a Fish▪ Pond, ha, ha, ha, ha, Oh I shall burst, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Nicho. 
And where is he prithee.  Vinc. 
Here just by, with his Booby Sancho; but the best Jest is, he persuades himself that 'tis all done by Enchantment of some Magician that owes him a spite, and that this Misfortune has happened only because he was not Knighted; and therefore has entreated me to do that Honour for him; Calls me, Sir Constable, and my Lord; and my Inn, a Castle; and I am now going to get my Wife, my Daughter, and two or three other merry Fellows to assist me in the Ceremony, for I'm resolved to carry on the Jest; and if you'll stay with me till to morrow morning you shall share in't.  Perez. 
With all my Heart, the diversion must needs be surprising Exit Vincent. Come, prithee le's go and find him out.  Nicho. 
Oh yonder comes Sancho, first le's hear what he says.  Enter Sancho. Sancho. 
Thanks be to good luck— he has saved his Neck, however, Gramercy Fishpond, our Adventures had all been at an end else Faith; and so had my Government too, with all the noble hopes of Sancho's Preferment: Yonder he is, as wet as a Water Spaniel that has just been Diving; and as Angry, as if the Windmill had called him Coward; or Son of a Whore; and to provoke him more, had railed against Knight-Errantry.  Nicho. 
Oh— Neighbour well met,— well, how goes matters, how fares our noble Friend, your Master; mine Host tells us he has been Fighting a Devilish Giant yonder; prithee how wa's't, for I am sure you must know.  Sancho. 
Though I know no such matter, I'm resolved to banter the Barber however, aside; Why, 'tis even too true Friend, 'twas a damnable Giant, his Name was Garlic de Gamba; And would you believe it Neighbour; Each Eye of him was a big as one of your Basins; each Tooth as long as one of your Poles, and as sharp as a Razor; His Chin had Beard enough to serve a whole Parish with Brushes; and his Mouth was as wide as your Shop Door Neighbour: This is truth upon my Squirehood▪ I saw him.  Nicho. 
Bless us, why this was prodigious; come le's go and congratulate him immediately.  Perez. 
The Lie is prodigious indeed, aside, ay come, with all my Heart.  Sancho. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha▪ Exeunt Perez and Nicholas.  Enter Hostess. Hostess. 
Good luck betid us, have I found ye so merry at last; there has been such a Noise within yonder, the House has been too Hot to hold us: There's two Women, or Furies, (for I know not what to make of 'em) inquiring for ye: One of 'em has a Tongue louder than a Sowgelder's Horn; She says, she has come three Leagues after ye this morning, and will have ye if ye are above Ground. She has a long lean withered Walnut coloured Face; She's as dirty as a Gipsy, and as ill Dressed as a Rag-Woman.  Sancho. 
Oh Plague, that must be my Wife by the Description; and what kind of Creature is with her prithee?  Hostess. 
A young Todpole Dowdy, as freckled as a Raven's Egg, with matted Hair, knotty Nose, and a pair of Hands as black as the Skin of a Tortoise, with Nails as long as a Kites Talons upon every Finger.  Sancho. 
Ah, that's my Daughter too, I know by her cleanliness▪ I stole away from 'em with design to surprise my Wife with a Countess-ship before she was aware; but since they have found me out by the Scent, let 'em come in with a Pox to 'em. Exit Hostess.  Enter Teresa and Mary; weeping. Teres. 
Oh, thou Dromedary, thou Foundered Mule without a Packsaddle; o● what other soul Beast shall I call thee, for Man thou art not, nor hast not been to me, Heaven knows the time when; art not thou ashamed to see me, thou Nicompoop.  Sancho. 
Why how now Crooked Rib, how now crocodile▪ can your Tongue wag this Morning, is the Matrimonial Horn Pipe Tuning already.  Mary. 
Oh Lord Vather, why would you run away so Vather; and how do you think I shall get my new pair of Green Stockings home, and have my Sabbath days Shoes mended, if you leave me and my Mother in this Fashion, oh, ho, oh. Howls out.  Sancho. 
If any one wants a pair of Marriage bag Pipes, I can sell him now a rare Bargain: A Man that had her for a Wife, and an Acre of Thistles, need not care which he burnt first▪ oons what a coil is here.  Teres. 
How have I deserved this, thou Man of the Devil; Have not I been a most true, and loving to thee, mended thee weekly from Top to Toe, and taken as much care of Dapple thy Ass as if he had been Born of my own Body; Have I not clipped the Bristles of thy Beard with Wise-like Patience, that no filthy Vermin might breed there; and washed thee with my own Hands when thou hast been as full of Mire as a Hog in a Highway: Nay, and what's more, the last Night we were in Bed together, would I may never Drink more, if I did not move to thee in the way▪ kindness whilst thou layest Snoring like a Drunken Carrier, and at last gav'st me a huge thump, enough to spoil a Woman's Childing for ever after.  Sancho. 
Why, thou she Cormorant, thou Man Devourer, have I been beating the Conjugal Drum this twenty years, and dost thou blame me now for Snoring: Oh Conscience, Conscience, Where art thou?  Mary. 
You doubt do well Vather, so you dont, to call my Mother such Names, she's no Drum; look slidikins, if any one else had called her a Drum, I'd ha' set my Nails in the Jaws of un.  Sancho. 
Here's a mettled Whore too, sbud, a word or two more would make that young Cat set her Claws in my Face indeed.  Teres. 
Ay, you see the Child will take her Mother's part, however, go to him Marry, speak to him Child, dont be afraid of his whittle Truth, has a good Face, though the Quoif be torn, speak to him I say Mary.  Sancho. 
Nay, Mary's an admirable Speaker, I'll say that for her; Well, Offspring, mine Mary, the Buxom, What say you humph?  Mary. 
Why, I say, you shall go home with us now we have found ye Vather; I cant get the Cow home to Night without ye; And there's a Bag of Barley must be carried to the Mill too: Gadsniggers I'll hold fast by this Arm. Takes hold of his Arm.  Teres. 
And I'll stick close to t'other. Takes the other.  Sancho. 
So, Now as here the true sign of the Marriage Mousetrap; and I, a Pox on me, am the unlucky Vermin that's caught in't: I'm a notable Figure now I believe if my Picture were drawn: Sbud you Man Leaches let go my Hand; Or by my Holidame.  Mary. 
O Lord, you maynt Swear Vather, the Devil will have you if you Swear.  Sancho. 
And his Dam, there, will have thee, if thou follow'st her advice ye young Oaf. Here am I, that by seeking noble Adventures, am going to be an Earl; and in the twinkling of a Star to be able to make ye both Countesses; and yet this Devil of a Woman will be always crossing me, and daming herself to Clouted Shoes, and a Canvas Smock all days of her Life.  Mary. 
A Countess! O Lord, Is that true Mother?  Teres. 
I shaw, waw, neer mind those great so 〈◊〉 Titles Fool, they are a great deal too big for our Mouths, Marry; My Name has been always Teresa, and Goodwife Panca; and thou, time out of mind, hast been called Moll or Mary, and in the latter end of my days to be called Countess, and I know not what, I shall Die, I shall ne'er be able to bear it. Weeps.  Sancho. 
Why, there 'tis now; A Plague on't, who would put Honey into an ass's Mouth: I am making myself a Governor, and setting her upon Velvet Cushions of State; and this Plaguy Woman of Barrabas, in spite of me will sit bare Buttock'd upon a Dunghill.  Mary. 
And do you say, that I should be a Governor's Daughter, and sit upon a Cushion too, Vather.  Sancho. 
Wowns, thou shalt be a Countess I tell thee in a Month's time, if that Adder there would leave her Hissing, and let me be quiet: I would Marry thee in an instant to the great Lord Don W●irligigaric▪ Son and Heir to the t'other great Lord Don Whachum: Thou shouldst walk in the Streets with thy Train held up, and two Embroidered Laqueys holding an Umbrel over thee, to keep thy amiable Phiz from Tanning.  Mary. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— on Gemini▪ and that will fit my Humour to a Button, Vather: Well, the first thing I would do, should be to learn to be Proud, and look Scornfully, I warrant I'd carry myself like a Countess quickly.  Teres. 
Alas, poor Malkin, she's bewitched already; I find this Earldom will be the undoing of the poor Jade do what I can: Why hear me, thou Father of Folly, thou wilful Corrupter of thy own Flesh and Blood; Does that Child look as if she could walk in State with her Train held up, dsheart 'twill give me Gripes to hear how the Folks will Laugh at her; Look how Stately the Hoggrubber goes, says one; she that was yesterday at her Spinning Wheel, and went to Church with the Skirt of her Coat over her Head, to keep her from the Rain, has now a Tail three yards long, says another; and an Umbrel to defend her Olive coloured Countenance, with a Pox to her, says a third; This will be the cry all the Village over; therefore come away Mary, and doubt be a Countess Child.  Sancho. 
Call thy Mother Fool, Marry the Buxom, and be a Countess in spite of her: Remember thou art to be Married, and Breed a Race for the Honour of the Panca's, think upon the young Lord Whirligigario, Child.  Teres▪ 
Think upon thyself, Marry, remember thou hast sometimes worn Shoes, and sometimes none Child.  Sancho. 
Crooked Logs make good Fires, think upon Don Whirligigario, Moll.  Mary. 
Ay, ay, Vather, I'm for Don Whirligigario, and there's no more to be said, but let my Mother sit bare Buttock'd upon a Dunghill, if she will, I'll be a Countess, ●.  Sancho. 
That's my good Girl, look'ee Teresa, the Court has given their Judgement, your Cause is lost in Course.  Teres. 
Well Satan, I know thou dost it to break my Heart thou Cruel Man; for the very hour that I shall see that Girl a Countess, will be the hour of my Death; I'm sure, the Jade will never be able to know herself, she'll be every Minute hoydning and discovering her Course Thread: Well, she's thy own, do what thou wilt with her; but for my part I'll near consent to't, and so farewell: A Countess, O Lord, I've no Patience to think on't. Exit Teresa.  Mary. 
Good Lord, now is my Mother as Rusty as an old Cow that has got the Belly Ache, but I care not; She dares not beat me, because she knows I'll beat her again. Well, de hear Vather, be sure you make me a Countess as soon as ever you can.  Sancho. 
I warrant thee Girl; and let thy Mother go and Fume at home with the Smoke in the Chimney corner: He that loses his Wife and Six Pence loses a Tester: Thou art my Darling, and shalt ere long be a Lady; for she that has luck has better than a good Estate in Reversion; and the full Bags of Fools Command Wise-Men for Followers. I by following Adventures intent to be a Governor; and when I am so, I intent to make thee Rich; And when thou art Rich, no Body will say thou art Freckled, nor think thee a Dowry. 
For Gold makes Country Joan look fair and Bonny,  
Though old and chopped, and Skinned like Orange Tawny.     

ACT II.  

SCENE I. Continues.  Enter Perez with a Letter, and Nicholas. Nicholas. 
AND are you sure, Mr. Curate, that your Letter is Authentic, and that it says positively your Niece Dorothea lives disguised amongst the Shepherds of Cordova?  Perez. 
'Tis most certain, for the Discover of her is my particular Friend; one of the best of that Quality too in all the Country, and has been often with 〈◊〉 at her Father's House.  Nicho. 
'Tis very odd, that when this Devil Love gets once into a young Female Noddle, what Tricks and Gambols will it make her play: ● had rather be obliged to tame a Hare in the beginning of March, and make it come to my Hand, than any Woman in her Pride of Eighteen, if once she be touched with this loving Fury.  Perez. 
He writes me word here, he discovered her one Evening by her Singing, for she can Sing too like an Archangel. The pretty Rogue was washing her Feet in a little Brook that runs just by his Cottage, the Whiteness of which made him at first suspect her Sex, till viewing her Face nearer, he knew her perfectly, yet discovered not himself, but followed her, and by that means found her Abode among the Shepherds.  Nicho. 
And how d'ye intent to get her thence?  Perez. 
Occasion offers foly, to Morrow will be the Funeral of Chrisostom, a young, witty and learned English Gentleman, that for the Love of a ●oy beautiful Virgin of these Precincts, called Marcelia, put on a Shepherd's Habit to Court her, but she disdaining him, despaired and died. At this Ceremony will attend all the Shepherds hereabouts, and there will be a Dirge sung, with other Rural Games, made by a dear Friend and Countryman of his, called Ambrosio, in Honour of the dead Man's Memory. Now amongst this Troop 'tis probable she comes, and I may then surprise her.  Nicho. 
'Tis likely enough I confess, and to assist a little, good Mr. Curate, I'll be there too, and if the Clergy miss her, perhaps the Laity may come in for a Snack; but come, let's mind our present Diversion, here comes mine Host, the Antic Ceremony of the Knighthood will be performed immediately.  Enter Vincent, Hostess, and Maritorness. 
Ah! the Devil take all mad Fools: Was ever Man so plagued? Come, Wife, Daughter, and Gentlemen, pray mind all your Instructions, that I may humour this Frantic Ass with a Shame Knighthood, and so get him out of my House, for I shall be undone if he stays a day longer in't— He rose up in a Dream just now, and fancying he was fighting with Giants, falls a Slashing two Bags of Red Wine, that stood up in a Corner, and has spilled upon twenty Gallons on't about the Floar. D'sheart! he has made me almost as mad as himself; therefore Wise, be sure you make haste, and remember your Part of the Ceremony.  Hostess. 
Ceremony! Hang him; Gad I'll Charge him with a Constable, if he does not pay me for my Wine.  Perez. 
Ha, ha, Oh Neighbour! you must consider he's a mad Man.  Nicho. 
And such are not only excused from Civility, but Law too.  Marit. 
He calls me Princess, Radiant, and Incomparable; and told me my Eyes glittered brighter than Venus or Mercury, with a World more of such Gibberish, that for my part, I thought the Devil was in the Man.  Vincent. 
Ay Gad, I get clear of him presently— O●, yonder I see him! He's coming with his Armour to this Well, which he takes to be a consecrated Fountain, and therefore a Place Motto be Knighted in. Come, come all in, let's leave him to himself a little, whilst I go and get all my merry Grigs ready for the Song and Dance; we'll Fool him methodically however. Exeunt.  Enter Don Quixote stripped, and Sancho following, carrying his Armour, and Laughing at him. Don. Q. 
Set down the Shell of my Renown, my Armory that wondrous Ca●e, that must defend this Body from vile Enchanters, Monsters, Giants, Furies; there, set 'em down by that most Holy Fountain, whilst, like a Tortoise, stripped of her Defence, I crawl about, and grovelling, kiss the Earth, till Fate ordains the Honour to retrieve 'em. Go Sancho, go thou aside, my faithful Squire, and Pray, Squires have no other Office in this Ceremony. Sancho lays down the Armor.  Sancho. 
Why the truth on't is, Sir, you have nicked me there to a Hair, for my whole Office has been to Pray and Fast ever since I came into your Service: I have told my Wife Teresa Wonders of ye, that I am to be an Earl and a Governor, and the Devil and all, but the Horse next the Mill carries the Grist, Mischiefs come by the Pound, and go away by the Ounce; God send me a good Deliverance, I say, I am a Fool, ● find it.  Don Q. 
No, if thou woul'st have thyself unravelled, thou art a Mixture of Knave and Fool; the Weights are often equal, but now I think, the Fool weighs down the balance; thou art now a silly desponding Varlet.  Sancho. 
Well, well, where nothing is, a little goes a great way, and an old Dog will learn no Tricks▪ What a Devil d'ye call this Well a Fountain for? And who the Devil consecrated it, unless it be two or three dozen of bald pate Frogs I heard croaking in't.  Don Q. 
Hark, I hear 'em coming; A Marshal Noise of Drums and Trumpets are heard within. Away, I say, and do as I command thee; and if thou hast a Prayer better than ordinary, that treats of Knighthood, and of brave Exploits, perform it with a Stomach, do it, as thou usest to Eat, voraciously.  Sancho. 
Why there's another very pretty Task to, a thing that would baffle the whole Clergy, as I'm a true Squire, to Pray as heartily as one can Eat; ds'bud, there's ne'er a Priest in Christendom can do't.  Don Q. 
I have a shrewd Suspicion that this Belly of thine, Sancho, will hinder thy Preferment; when ever the Squire of a Knight Errand gives himself to Eating, Honours fall off insensibly.  Sancho. 
Why then the Devil take all Honours; a hungry Horse makes an ill Journey, and half a Loaf is better than no Bread; rather than starve for a Governorship, I'll be plain with you Sir—  Don Q. 
Away, thou Prater; I'll hear no more, away I say.  Exit Sancho, Grumbling. Enter drum's and Trumpets Sounding. Then Enter Vincent, Crowned with Laurel, and a Scutcheon in his Hand. Then Perez, Nicholas, Hostess, Meritorness, with Scutcheons. Then Singers and Dancers, representing Knights of several Orders, two and two, carrying Branches of Laurel. They march solemnly round Don Quixote, who kneels whilst Vincent puts a Circle about his Head, and then Speaks. Vincent. 
Thou God that lov'st loud Drums that rattle.  
Raw Heads and bloody Bones, and Battle;  
That try'st with Blows our Sense of Feeling.  
Look down upon this Mortal Kneeling:  
Grant him Honours, with Redundance,  
Thumps and Blows, and Kicks abundance;  
And when his Bones all broken be,  
Be this the Type of Victory. Sticks the Scutcheon in his Circle: Don Q Bows.  Perez. 
Proud Giants let him better quell,  
Than when he from the Wind-Mill fell.  
No more may Fishponds drench his Carcase,  
Nor waggish Hors make him a stark Ass. Sticks his Scutcheon.  Nicho. 
Let no Soul-Broker have a Hand in  
The Shaving of his Understanding.  
Fame let him get at Tilt and Barriers,  
And never more be swinged by Carriers. Sticks his Scutcheon. Don Q. Bowes.  Hostess. 
Claret, no more for Blood be spilling,  
Nor no more costly Wine-Baggs killing;  
Lest some hard-fisted Ostler flies on't,  
Or angry Hostess scratch his Eyes out. Sticks her Scutcheon. Don Q. Bowes.  Maritor. 
May Dulcinea del Toboso,  
That likes his Tawny Phiz but so, so,  
By being in her Rigour lasting,  
Get him more Honour, and more Basting. Sticks her Laurel, and now altogether, round his Head, bear these Words; The Knight of the Ill-favoured Face.  Vincent. 
So, now remove him, whilst these Sons of Fame, these Knights that represent the Times past Glory, perform the rest of this high Ceremony.  Here Hostess and Maritorness raise up Don Quixote, and lead him to the farther Part of the Stage, and Arm him. Then a Dance is performed, representing Knights Errand Killing a Dragon: Which ended, they bring Don Quixote to the Front of the Stage. Vincent. 
Now Sing the Song in Praise of Arms and Soldiery.  

SONG.  
SIng all ye Muses, your Lutes strike around;  
When a Soldiers the Story, what Tongue can want Sound?  
Who Danger disdains, Wounds, Bruises and Pains,  
When the Honour of Fighting is all that he gains.  
Rich profit comes easy in Cities of Store,  
But the Gold is earned hard where the Cannons do roar.  
Yet see how they run at the Storming a Town,  
Through Blood and through Fire, to take the Half-Moon.  
They Scale the high Wall,  
Whence they see others fall.  
Their Hearts precious Darling, bright Glory pursuing,  
The ' Death's under foot, and the Mine is just blowing.  
I● springs, up they fly, yet more still supply,  
As Bride grooms to Marry, they hasten to die.  
Till Fate claps her Wings, and the glad Tidings brings,  
Of the Breach being entered, and then they're all Kings.  
Then happy's she whose Face  
Can win a Soldier's Grace,  
They range about in State,  
Like Gods disposing Fate;  
No Luxury in Peace,  
Nor Pleasure in Excess,  
Can parallel the joys the Martial Hero Crown,  
When flushed with Rage, and forced by Want, he storms a wealthy Town.   Vincent. 
Ladies, the last great Honour now afford,  
And arm the Champion with the Spurs and Sword.  Hostess. 
Let this bright Spur, with prickly Rowels,  
That wounds thy Courser near the Bowels, Putting on the Spurge▪  
Mind thee in thy Adventures thick,  
How thou for womens' Rights should kick.  
So Fortune, thou bold Knightly Tony,  
Send thee more Wit, and me more Money.  Maritor. 
About thy Loins I gird this doughty Blade,  
To fight thy Battles, and make Foes afraid▪  
Cudgel, and cudgelled be, be no Man's Debtor,  
The more that stupid Pate is mauled the better.  
Thy Fate defends thee from the Pains of Killing,  
Who has no Brains, is past all Sense of Feeling.  Vincent. 
Then lastly, with this Knightly Thwack, Draws the Sword and strikes him.  
And these about thy Sides and Back.  
I Dub thee for an Arms Professor,  
Champion for War, and Wrongs Redressor.  
Once, twice, and thrice, now rise with Grace,  
The Knight of the Ill-favoured Face▪ Don Quixot rises.  Don Q. 
Sir Constable, the Honour you have done me, devotes me to your Service during Life; show me a Monster, Giant, or Enchanter, tho' ne'er so huge or terrible, that has wronged ye, and you shall see me make him do you Justice, and lay his Recreant Head beneath your Feet. And you great Princesses, and Illustrious Beauties, that this great Hour have done Don Quixote Honour, low at your Feet your Knight offers his Homage. My grateful Thanks likewise to you my Friends, by whom this Sword and Arm shall always be commanded. To Perez and Nicho.  Perez. 
All Honour to the Son of Fame, and brightest Planet of Knight Errantry, Don Quixote de la Mancha.  Nich. 
May his Heroic Deeds make Amadis du Gaul a Trifler.  Vincent. 
Don Bellianis of Greece, and Felixmarte of Thriani● be Mushrooms to the Pine of this tall Glory.  Don Q. 
Good my Lord, your Excellence too much honours me; and so does your fair Lady— of whom I must presume to beg one Courtesy— additional— which is— a Plaster— for with your Lordships too much Zeal in Dubbing me, I humbly do conceive— my Head is broke.  Vincent. 
Most happy Omen!  Perez 
Yes, if it bled three Drops.  Don Q 
It has, three hundred, I feel 'em in my Collar.  Hostess. 
Run Maritornes, fetch the Vnguentum Album.  Don Q. 
Most Radiant Princess! I shall trouble ye.  Marit. 
Why truly Sir, since you have made me a great Lady, I can't help being as proud as one; and to send a Princess for a Plaster, is, in my Opinion, a little undecent.  Nicho. 
Oh Madam! your Highness shall not need, I have one ready here in my Pocket. Pulls out his Bow.  Enter Sancho Hastily. Sancho. 
Odsbodokins! if ever you'll see a fine Sight as long as you live, come away quickly to the Inn Door.  Perez. 
How now Sancho? Where's your Obeisance to this Noble Knight?  Sancho. 
Mum, Mum, I understand ye— Most Noble Emperor, that is to be, I kiss your Majesty's Foot.  Don Q. 
'Tis well, my Squire— but prithee what Sight is this thou hast seen at the Castle Gate?  Sancho. 
Why at the Castle Gate then, since you will have it so, thereby a dead Man walked by in more State, and with greater Noise after him, than a London Alderman, whose Soul is gone to Hell for Usury, than he has, I say, when his Son and Heir hires a whole Troop of Blue Coat-Boys to sing Psalms, and try if they can bawl it out again.  Vincent. 
Oh! 'tis the Funeral of Chrysostom, that died for Love. My Lord Don Quixote, 'tis fit you should be there, perhaps some Adventure may show itself.  Don Q. 
Your Excellence Counsels well, there may indeed, for now methinks I'm weary of soft Ease, and long for some Exploits to rouse my Valour * They put on his Helmet. now Giants Monsters tremble, for I come, 
To purge the World of Vice by powerful Arms,  
In spite of Hell, and Necromantic Charms.  Exit Don Q. and Sancho.  Hostess. 
The Devil go with him; Must we lose our Money for our Wine after all then, for a Jest? ds'life I'll run after him, and fetch him back.  Perez. 
No, no, prithee good Hostess let him alone now, I'll see thee paid upon the Word of a Priest; I'll be his Pledge for once, for out of Kindness to his Family, I intent very suddenly, by a Trick, to core his Frenzy, and bring him Home again.  Hostess. 
The Word of a Priest, Thank'ee good Sir, I desire no better Security for all the Wine in my Cellar.  Nicho. 
If there be any sport in't, you are sure of me Mr. Curate.  Perez. 
Oh, thou art to be my Chief Engine— but more of that another time; now let's to the Funeral, and if I can but find my Niece there.  Nicho. 
We'll Fuddle mine Host to night in his own Castle, as Don Quixote calls it.  Vincent. 
Ah, would I could see that, my jolly Lads, I'd try your Forces i faith.  Maritor. 
And did not I do my Speeches purely, Mr. Curate?  Perez. 
Ay, little Maritornes, that thou didst, I assure thee. Exeunt.   

SCENE II. A Deep Grove.  Enter Dorothea alone, Dressed like a Shepherd in Mourning, and Crowned with a Cypress Garland. Doroth. 
They come with Sighs, and as half dead with Sorrow,  
Attend the Body of the wretched chrusostom,  
Whilst I, that seem to mourn another's Fate,  
Dissolve in real Tears, to know my own:  
Poor Dorothea, Where are now the Comforts  
That used to make thy Days Divinely happy?  
Where now are Blessings from Indulgent Parents,  
That used to smile upon thy Morning Duty,  
Kiss thy refreshing Cheeks, lean on thy Bosom,  
And in soft Rapture, invoke Heaven to guard thee?  
All gone, quite lost, thou'rt now a Friendless Vagabond▪  
Undone by Love, and by a Man betrayed,  
For who could else undo an innocent Maid?  
Forced in these Groves among the stranger Swains,  
To waste a woeful Life,— Oh false Fernando!  
But hush— no more, they come.— Goes to meet 'em.  Then Re-enter Dorothea with Ambrosio, and other Shepherds and Shepherdesses Crowned with Cypress; then the Body of Chrysostome follows on a Bier, Crowned with a Wreath, and covered with Flowers; they march in Solemn Procession round the Stage, than the Bier being set down in the midst of it, Ambrosio speaks. Ambros. 
Thus to the Grave the last retreat of Mortals,  
Has sad Ambrosio brought his dearest Friend,  
Oh that he could revenge his hapless Death upon the cruel Tygress that has caused it, with what a pleasure would I fly to execute; or could my Breath blow Plagues among the Sex, and only amongst them, no Malething suffering, what Rapture should I feel; but alas, I wish in vain, no Pestilence can hurt 'em: One poisonous Viper cannot hurt another: A Woman is the Plague, the hottest Plague, and where they harbour, breed Contagion round 'em.  Dorth. 
To me I'm sure a Man has been a greater, and bred more desolation. Aside.  Enter Don Quixote and Sancho. 
But good Ambrosio, was this fair Murderess throughly satisfied of your dead Friends Affection?  Ambr. 
Too too well, there passed no Minute on of stealing time, that he passed unemployed to do her service; he was a Man, the brightest of her Sex, if they could e'er consider, would be proud of, an admirable Scholar, rare Musician, Learned without Pride, and Valiant without Passion; The Elements were all so tempered in him, that except Love, his Breast was still and calm; no Gust within to ruffle his rare Judgement, so knowing too, and yet withal so modest, that though his Reason could instruct great Teachers, he never thought himself the Wiser Man.  1 Shep. 
He was indeed the wonder of his time.  Ambros 
Oh ye immortal Powers! How comes it then that all this Worth is thrown away on Woman? Woman, that as the Poet nobly tells us 
Deceitful Woman, that will in time forestall,  
The Devil, and be the Damning of us all.   Don Quixote comes up to Ambrosio. 2 Shep. 
Bless us! What Romantic thing have we got here?  1 Shep. 
I know not, he looks like the Ghost of some Murdered King in a Tragedy; Prithee observe the tother too that comes slowching after him, that must be some rare Fellow by his Look.  2 Shep. 
By the Mass I admire him, I must go stare at 'em.  They stare at Sancho, and Sancho at them. Don Q. 
I am, Sir, by profession a Knight Errand, renowned for Righting Wrongs; my Name's Don Quixote; otherwise called the Knight of the Ill-favoured Face.  1 Shep. 
Faith 'tis Ill-favoured indeed, there you are in the right, in troth Sir Knight.  Sancho. 
And you must know I am the Renowned Sancho Panca, this Renowned Knights Renowned Squire, and, all in good time, am to be a Renowned Governor.  Don Q. 
I have with wonder heard some part of your Discourse, and therefore, as it is my Duty, make Request to know if you are wronged.  Doroth. 
Some Madman, sure.  Ambros. 
He looks no better, Sir Knight, who e'er you are, if you'll have patience till we have performed the Funeral Ceremonies, I shall have time to answer, but till then—  Don Q. 
With all my heart, most Courteous Knight, and will assist myself.  Enter Don Quixote, Perez, and Nicholas, Sancho. Perez. 
He's got hither before us, I see.  Nicho. 
And I warrant they take him for some strange Monster, How they Stare and Grinn at Sancho?  Ambros. 
Perform the Dirge, and let all other Rites be done in solemn Order: And oh thou dear best pattern of true Friendship, accept this poor last Tribute from a Friend, whose Love to thee was boundless as thy Merit. Kisses chrusostom.  Here a Song is Sung by a young Shepherdess, than they all Dance a Solemn Dance, expressing despairing Love; then Ambrosio and others, lay chrusostom in the Grave; mean while a Dirge is Sung by a Shepherd and Shepherdess. 

SONG.  

I.  
YOung chrusostom had Virtue, Sense,  
Renown, and Manly Grace,  
Yet all alas were no Defence,  
Against Marcella's Face.  
His Love that long had taken Root,  
In Doubts cold Bed was laid,  
Where She not warming it to Shoot,  
The lovely Plant Decayed.   

II.  
Had coy Marcelia owned a Soul,  
Half Beauteous as her Eyes;  
Her judgement had her Soul controlled,  
And taught her how to Prize:  
But Providence that Formed the Fair,  
In such a charming Skin,  
Their outside made their only Care,  
And never looked within.    

DIRGE.  

SLeep poor Youth, Sleep in Peace,  
Relieved from Love and mortal Care;  
Whilst we that pine in Life's Disease,  
Uncertain Bless'dlesse happy are.  
Couched in the dark and silent Grave,  
No ills of Fate thou now canst fear;  
In vain would Tyrant Power enslave,  
Or scornful Beauty be severe.   

Wars, that do fatal Storm disperse,  
Far from thy happy Mansion keep;  
Earthquakes that shake the Universe:  
Can't Rock thee into sounder sleep.  
With all the Charms of Peace possessed,  
Secure from Life's Torment or Pain.  
Sleep and indulge thy-self with Rest,  
Nor Dream thou e'er shalt rise again.   

CHORUS.  
PAst is thy fear of future Doubt,  
The Sun is from the Dial gone,  
The Sands are sunk, the Glass is out,  
The Folly of the Farce is done.    Ambros. 
Oh, I shall choke with a Revengeful Spleen, against that cursed She that robbed me of this Jewel, each single Ray of whose transparent Virtue, outshined a Million of those Counterfeits, those dull false Pebbles, Women.  Doroth. 
My Uncle, as I live, how shall I shun him. Exit  Perez. 
I'm sure 'tis She, I know her by that Blush.  Nicho. 
Follow her close, than the Game lies just before ye. Exeunt.  Don Q. 
Sir, to me, there is no brighter Jewel than a Woman, and he that dares affirm my Peerless Mistress sweet Dulcinea del Toboso, is a Pebble, is but a Turf himself, and holds his Soul at nothing.  1 Shep. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, this is rare stuff.  Ambros. 
Some Officer sure grown frantic.  2 Shep. 
The Squire-Governor too looks with the same Air, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Sancho. 
What a Plague do these Frogs in green Liveries grin at? A Knight Errand to these Fools now, I warrant, is as strange a Sight, as a Rhinoceros, hoh hoh, ha, ha, Laugh on, Laugh on, Boobys, there's some difference sure between a Kite and a Pismire; What a Pox, Earldoms, are not got by keeping of Sheep— hoh, hoh, hoh, hah.  Enter Marcelia. Don Q. 
Ha, here's some wonderful Adventure, What beauteous Vision's this.  Sancho. 
Oons, if this should be some Empress or Queen now, and my Government at my Elbow before I'm aware.  Ambros. 
By Heaven 'tis She, the very Charming Devil, that has done all this mischief.  Marcell. 
Great cause thou hast to wonder, rash Ambrosio, that I who from my Infancy Devoted to Solitude, have shunned all Human Converse, should now unasked, expose my Person here; but know I do it to defend my Honour, against the poisonous slander of vile Tongues, who render me the Cause of their un-rest, and the late Death of thy-ill-fated Friend.  Ambros. 
Oh! Tigress of more Cruel and Fell kind than ever yet in Africa Deserts bred, canst thou defend thyself?  Marcel. 
Yes, and with Justice too, his Death was caused by his obstinate Folly.  Ambros. 
Of loving thee too well. Oh barbarous Women, the Sacred Powers above, lent●●y Beauty to give Delight, not Kill, tho' it had Power, yet you all filled with the old Serpents Primitive Mischief, knowing that Power,—  
Convert it to our Ruin.  Marcell. 
Oh, silly Men, that knowing then our Mischiefs, will yet turn Amorous Coxcombs to provoke us.  Ambros. 
Thou very Devil in an Angel's shape, thou know'st it was the Fate of my dear Friend, he could not help his loving thee.  Marcel 
Why then, thou very Fool in thy own shape, the less my Obligation; who is obliged to one for any Courtesy, that cannot help the doing it?  Ambros. 
Yet dost not pity him.  Marcel. 
Pity's the Child of Love; and I ne'er yet Loved any of your Sex, I might have some Compassion for his Death; but still the Occasion of it moves my Mirth.  Ambros. 
The Occasion of it! why thou strange Cruelty! art thou not th'Occasion? Did he not die for thee?  Marcel. 
For me! No, certainly; Was he not a Man, one grounded too in Knowledge, a Philosopher, dressed in the Pride of all those glittering Arts that raise your Sex, you think so much above us? Poor Ignorant Women, I warrant he despised us in his Heart; Toys, Puppets, fashioned only for the Pleasure, Mirth, and Convenience of Lordly Man; and could he die for Love? Fie! 'tis Impossible! Who ever knew ● Wit do such a thing?  Ambros. 
Triumphant Mischief; Have you no Remorse?  Marcel. 
I rather look on him as a good Actor; that Practising the Art of deep deceit, as Whining, Swearing, Dying at your Feet, 
Cracked some Life Artery with an overstrain,  
And died of some Male Mischief in the Brain.   San. 
Ah plague, I find now this is no Queen; this Woman is too much a Tattler to be of any great Quality.  Don Qu. 
Peace Bottlehead.  Ambros. 
Oh! that some Power would bless me with a Charm, to Plague thy Heart, as thou has Tortured his; that thou might'st feel the force of those hot flames, that burned the Life out of the Noble Chrysostom.  Marcel. 
‛ But since your words have no bewitching Arts,  
‛ No Charm your Person, nor your Eyes no Darts.  
‛ Happy Marcelia, who no danger sees,  
‛ Untouched by Love does neither burn nor freeze.  Ambros. 
His Merit, tho' not mine, would Inspire Love  
In any generous Woman.  Marcel. 
That's as she prized it,  
Men will be vain, and value their own parts;  
But 'tis our Fancy that bestows our Hearts.  
Merit is what we Love, sometimes a Fool  
Outdoes the Philosopher in a Woman's School;  
But if she's wilful, and has no remorse▪  
Believe me, Fool, 'twill be in vain to force.  Ambros. 
Heaven! Why did our Creation come by Women?  
Can Mankind be no other way Increased.  Marcel. 
No other way; so set your heart at rest.  Ambros. 
We doubt 'em, even whilst in their Arms we lie  
Prospect of Cares we find, but none of Joy.  Marcel. 
Pish— Now I laugh at ye, you know you lie Smiling scornfully.  
Beauty, you as your greatest bliss pursue,  
Feign what you can, nay, Fool we know it too  
Fair is my Face, my Liberty my own,  
I will accept no Love nor promise none:  
Nor pity any would my Peace betray;  
Tho' there should die ten thousand in a Day.  Ambros. 
Once to Revenge this Lover that lies Dead  
Grant ye, immortal Powers, that I may Wed,  
I'll quell the Pride of your Rebellious Race,  
Form Woman new and make her know her place.  Marcel. 
Hear him sweet Heaven, and let his Consort be  
Armed with another Soul like that in me.  
A Soul that too fond Passion ne'er Confined,  
But knows the Cheats of all his Cosining kind;  
Your Rage, weak Sir, will slenderly prevail;  
My Rule's Effectual, and it cannot fail:  
Our easy Natures oft with Pride you vex;  
But know that I was born to plague your Sex.  
Formed to Attract, and featured to Excel,  
Beauty's a Charm 'gainst which you want a Spell▪  
When Heaven conveys such Influence to you,  
Correct with awful Frowns and make me few;  
But whilst your Fate's submitted to my sway,  
I know my Power, and Men shall Obey. Exit.  Ambros. 
D''ee hear the Insolent, Shepherds you, that were Friends to the brave Chrysostom? ds'Death, shall she brave us thus? for shame run some of ye, and bring her back; let's make her have some sense of her Barbarity, at least. They offer to follow her, and Don Quixote draws and opposeth.  Don Qu. 
Let no one dare to follow her on his Life; I find she does but Justice to her Sex, that are too often much abused by ours, therefore as I profess myself Knight-Errant, 'tis fit that I protect her.  2 Shep. 
You protect her, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Don Qu. 
Knights, I will do't, and more than that against ye all.  San. 
That he will, srogs, and against a hundred more of ye for all your Grinning.  1 Shep. 
Oons what do the Bedlams mean; Come Friends, let's bind 'em, and put 'em into the Dark, the Fools are Distracted.  Don Qu. 
I'll try how sound your Senses are, Sir Dogbolt.  Fight here, and Don Quixote and Sancho beat 'em all off, then Re-enter Don Quixote and Sancho, strutting. San. 
There's for your Grinning, Rogues, I think I am even with ye now; wons! what a fine thing fighting is, when a Man is sure of having the better of it? And what a delicate difference there is between a Toledo-Blade, and a Sheephook? But come, Sir, let's get away for fear they Rally, 'sbud I think I behaved myself bravely.  Don Qu. 
Why troth, if thou couldst but keep thy Eyes open a little better, thou might'st in time come to do something: But a plague o● thee, thou fightest as a Crab Crawls▪ backwards, for Instead of giving one of 'em a side long thump Just now, if I had not stepped quick aside thou hadst struck my Knighthood o'er the Pate? But however, thou mean'st well, I dare swear, and I believe fightest as well as thou canst. 
And he's no braver that subdues an Host,  
Then he is that stands still and keeps his Post.   Exeunt.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I. The Inn.  Enter Perez and Dorothea. Doroth. 
AH, Sir, I beg ye for my Mother's sake, or if you ever loved poor Dorothea, when with her Prattling Infant Innocence▪ and springing Beauty in its early blossom, she used to please, by both I do Conjure ye, let me not see my Father.  Perez. 
Trust to me; You must to your past crime add a greater, by Hateful Disobedience.  Doroth. 
Oh! I shall die with shame; Alas! I left him alone unfriended, warped with Age and Sorrow! That good Old Man▪ That kind Indulgent Father, I shall never dare, forlorn as now, to meet his Eyes again! Barbarous Fernando, that False Cruel Tyrant, pleased with the spoils of my dear Virgin Honour, has Ravished that blessed sight for ever from me.  Perez. 
Had you no Contract from this false Fernando.  Doroth. 
In Vows and Oaths a thousand; I was too Artless to desire him more: Heavens! He would swear till he was black in the Face; Dissemble six long hours by the Clock; and when he Vowed the truth of his Affection, the Potestation● came so fast and thick, so fierce withal and Eager in Expressing, that I've been fain to let him kiss and breath for fear the thronging Lies should suffocate him.  Perez. 
Yet after all this to pretend to marry Lucinda; Nay, forge a false Letter from her, to her betrothed Love Cardenio, implying she had deserted him; and then sacrilegiously steal her from a Nunnery, to which she fled for Sanctuary, is such a stain to his Nobility as wants Example▪ and rather than not have Justice done thee, Girl, I resolve the Court shall know it.  Doroth. 
To marry Luscinday there's the dart that stung me! Oh, let all Virgins by my Fate take Warning, and never more believe that faithless Sex.  Perez. 
Come, no more Tears; a Cause so Just as thine can never want an Advocate.  Doroth. 
'Twas that Heart-breaking News that stabbed me most; so that forgetting Father, Sex, and Honour, in this disguise I was resolved to seek him, and either Cause him to perform his Vows, or Die in the pursuit of my desire.  Enter Nicholas. Perez. 
The Lady Luscinda shall be instantly informed of his Treachery and what Interest I can make against him thou art assured of: Come let's about it— How now, thy Face seems to have some surprise in't. Is there any News stirring? 〈◊〉  Nicho. 
Yes, and some that will surprise you, indeed, or I'm mistaken; As I was standing at my Post without, to give you the better opportunity of Discourse, who should I see below at the Inn door, but Don Fernando, and in the Habit of a Nun, a Lady with him.  Perez. 
Strange Fortune, art thou sure 'twas he?  Doroth. 
Oh Heaven, how my Heart throbs?  Nicho. 
I saw his Face, and also guests the Lady, to be the Fair Luscinda, there's some strange difference between 'em, for by her Actions she seemed much dissatisfied; hark, they are coming up this way, step but into the next Room you may discover more.  Perez. 
Do so, good Niece, and let's observe 'em, then when thou seest thy opportunity— appear and charge him boldly, I'll not be far off.  Doroth. 
Nay, I will speak to him, tho' Death attends it. Exeunt  Enter Fernando, and Luscinda, in the Habit of a Nun. Luscin. 
Is there no end of your Impiety, have Nunnery Walls, strong Gates, nor Iron Bars, nay, nor the Deity Adored within, to whom I fled for help in my distress, not power enough to hinder one Man's wickedness? you Sacred Powers, Have you forgot your Justice? that you send none to succour poor Luscinda.  Fernand. 
The Powers you speak of, Madam, that knew what's better for ye, than you did for yourself, you see assisted me in my design.  Luscind. 
Oh Impious Wretch, dare you think Heaven assisting in wicked Actions? No, 'twas the Aid of Hell, in some cursed Minute, when all good Angels slept, or else stood Neuter.  Fernand. 
Hell, Madam, what has Hell to do in Love Affairs? the Devil is Foe progessed to Amity, no, my sole Aid, was my own prosperous Genius, Courage t'attempt, and fortune to succeed, this gave me power to scale your Nunnery Walls, and recompense my Love with spoils of Beauty.  Luscind. 
Have you no Conscience, you are of Noble Blood, and in your Veins should run a stream of Virtue, that should distribute Justice through your Soul; Cardenio was your Friend, my betrothed Husband, and in severing us, you do not only fix a foul stain upon your House's Honour, but violate the Laws of all Humanity.  Fernand. 
Why then let that most great and strong Omnipotence, that to my Fame's Confusion, makes my Love, answer for all my Crimes▪ I love Luscinda, and 'tis in vain to tell me the mischiefs I have done, I know 'em all, I know I have been Treacherous to Cardenio, False to my Friend, but 'twas for Love of thee, I own I forged a Letter in thy Name, which caused his sad Distraction, and Ruin, but thou wert still the cause; nay, more than thy Beauty, made me a Traitor to an innocent Virgin; forget my Vows, break all my Oaths and Promises, and leave her Pregnant, with Heart-breaking Sorrows, and Love's dear Load, the Trophy of my Conquest, to follow still my headlong Fate and Thee.  Luscind. 
Oh Heaven, and can you own all this without a Blush, a scarlet Blush, to stain your Cheeks for ever.  Fernand. 
Why should I deny it, I still have too much Honour to dissemble, I've told this Truth only to let thee see, the power of thy Attractions and my Love, think what the Man would do for thee, when his, that could do all these mighty Ills to get thee; if thou wouldst have me virtuous, do but Love me, the Miracle is wrought, for 'tis a Sacred Verity, what Sins soe'er Love drives me to commit, thou art the certain cause, And since I know the scruple, which the Priests call Honourable, Affects you Women, more than Love or Fortune; take there my Hand, and be this hour my Wife, I vow it most Religiously.  Luscind. 
No, kill me rather, and wed me to the Grave, I'll die a thousand deaths, rather than falsify one Sacred Vow, or the least Particle of plighted Faith to my beloved Cardenio.  Fernand. 
Keep then that Faith for him, give me but the Reward, that my Desire and Services deserve, and I'll be satisfied.  Luscind. 
Vile wretch, Would you dishonour me?  Fernand. 
Not I by Heaven, your stubborn obstinacy and faulty noise, these may perhaps dishonour ye, not I, I'll be as secret as the Virgins Blush, that with a Rosy Tincture paints her Cheeks, when trembling she consents.  Luscind. 
You will not force me, rash, as you are, young and ungovernable, you dare not be so base.  Fernand. 
Oh thou needst not fear it, thou wilt be kind, and give me no occasion; I must confess, it is not with my liking to Cater for my Love as Satyrs do, Beauty's most sweet to me that's won with Patience, Heartburning, Dangers, Plotting, and Contrivances; I'll wait on thee, and watch thee into yielding, tire thee with Sighs, and mould thee soft with Kisses, dress the dear Banquet with industrious skill, that I may hereafter feed with greater pleasure.  Luscind. 
Come, come my Lord, let Reason take its place, and let these flowing Tears quench your hot Blood; remember who you are, what I am too, than you must do me Justice.  Fern. 
And you must do it me, remember who thou art, I do most sensibly, thou art mine by a double Right, by your Father's consent First, and next by Stratagem: you'll urge, perhaps you were betrothed t'another, fled to a Nunnery to perform your Vow, and I that forced you from it, act strange Sacrilege: but I, sweet Creature, am not of that opinion: Are those dear Eyes that warm all Hearts— with Passion, that lovely Face and Body, fit for a Nunnery? Fie, Sweet, 'tis Contradiction to the intent of Providence, that gave thee Beauty to Delight and Love; A Nunnery Air in two days time would kill thee, make thy plump Youth lean as Anatomy, and Prayer would waste thee into a Consumption.  Luscind. 
Ah! never think to move me with your Fallacies, I'm fixed as Fate.  Fernand. 
'Twas Sacrilege to Love, not to have freed thee, and Treason to myself had not I Loved; as for the failure to my Friend, 'tis trivial, when Beauty Charms, Friendship avails but little, and I may think, had the occasion offered, Cardenio would have done the same to me.  Luscind. 
Oh no, he was too good, too true a Friend, see me, my Lord, thus Prostrate at your Feet; if ever Pity Lodged within your Bosom, If Human Nature, or the Sense of Honour, have not quite left your Soul, and the Brute entered, by all the Sacred Powers I do implore ye to desist from your bad purpose, for be assured, I never will consent. Luscinda Kneels and Weeps.  Fernand. 
What sudden shock was that? a Bolt of Ice, methought shot through my Heart: I'm cold, as if an Ague Fit had seized me: hah, What am I doing? What lovely Tears are those? I find I'm but a squeamish Whoremaster, I am not hardened enough to go through with't,— Ah! that sparkling Glance has shot new Fire again into my Soul, and I would dwell upon this Breast for ever; Oh thou Great God of Love, that Rul'st our Passions, Command'st our Wills to baffle Reason, Honour, Virtue, Religion, Fame, and all Morality, influence her Bosom with thy hottest Flame, and let her feel thy Power.  Enter Dorothea. Doroth. 
I am come.  Fernand. 
Ha,— What art thou?  Doroth. 
I am what you called for Love, or if you please to have me use another Nomination, to express all tender Attributes of Passion, in Sorrows, Sighs and Tears; I'm Dorothea.  Fernand. 
Dorothea, by Heaven 'tis she dropped out o'th' Clouds, I think.  Luscind. 
A very Angel, sure, sent to relieve me.  Doroth. 
I am a Messenger from him you invoked, who gives you strict Commands to obey his Laws; and in a more especial manner, Constancy for breach of that his dreadful Vengeance, punishes much more than all the rest; this I am come to tell ye.  Fernand. 
You are come very opportunely indeed, you have nicked the time, that I must needs say.  Doroth. 
Oh my dear Lord! the Joy I have to see ye, exceeds my Sorrow to have heard what's past, for I have heard it all.  Fernand. 
Why then you have heard enough in Conscience, a Plague of my hot Head, that could not consider the inconvenience of a damned Inn, when a Love Intrigue was going forward— so then I know I must expect your hatred.  Doroth. 
Oh Heaven! my Hatred, what for a small frailty, a slight forgetfulness, which all young Men have Naturally, when their Loves are absent, to remedy which, and to prevent such danger in this Disguise, through Groves and Plains I've sought ye, left Parents, Kindred, Friends, and all the World to follow my dear Lord.  Fernand. 
And now you have found me, shall I beg one Favour.  Doroth. 
You may Command my Life.  Fernand. 
'Tis this then— to leave me instantly.  Doroth. 
Ah, that's not in my power till I am dead, I'm bound by Oath, as you are, to the contrary, but that I e'er can hate ye, is impossible; no, no, my Lord, what would make other Women Loath and Desert, has no effect on me; what tho' I see you cling to that young Beauty, dote on her Looks, and languish for her Favours, it moves not me, I know too well my Power; I am as Fair as She, as young, as Charming, Formed for the Pleasure of my Dearest Lord; Blessed too with Virtue, Constancy, and Duty equal to her, or any of my Sex, and when he pleases, he'll return to me, in the mean time, I will not grudge the Kisses he gives others, but Love him for my own.  Luscind. 
You shall have small occasion, Madam, to grudge me.  Doroth. 
I know it, Madam, for you are Wise 〈◊〉 Fair, and know to take another's Right's Injurious, this is my Lord, my Dear, my betrothed Husband.  Fernand. 
So, now all's out, I never was so tric'kd in all my life, I know not what to say to her.  Doroth. 
Madam, I hope you will not think me Rude, if I desire a little Privacy, I have a thousand Passionate things to say, fit for no Ear but his.  Luscind. 
With all my Soul.  — Is going, and he stops her. Fern. 
Oh! I must beg your Pardon, the Jest must not go so far neither.  Doroth. 
Nay, let her go my Lord, am not I here, the happy She that you were once fond of, What can you seek from her, I cannot give you? Remember, oh remember the dear Hours, when with transporting Passion you have sued for such an opportunity, when every Visitant was irksome as a Favour, each flying Minute tedious, and too long, and all your Prayers and Wishes were Addressed, to invoke Night, that we might be alone, and can I now be troublesome?  Fernand. 
'Ds'death, I shall ne'er hold out, I find I'm softening, her pretty Pleading Eyes, and Charming Tongue melt, me I know not how.  Luscind. 
Blessed Accident, there's pity in his Look, she wins upon him. Aside.  Doroth. 
Madam, My Lord has thought on't now, and you may retire, if you please.  Fernand. 
Art thou resolved to ruin thyself, darest thou provoke my Anger.  Doroth. 
Not by my Will, Heaven knows, I'd lose my Life to please ye.  Fernand. 
Too Credulous Fool, How couldst thou believe I would affront' my Quality, by mixing with thy Lowness.  Doroth. 
I was not basely Born, besides, could boast a Noble value in my Face and Virtue, which made Don Fernand think me worthy of him, and raise me to his Love, which while Life lasts I will preserve for ever.  Fernand. 
Why wilt thou add to thy Misery, by Obstinacy, poor Creature, I shall kill thee.  Doroth. 
Why then, no harmless Dove, or tender Infant, will ever die so patient: death I long have Courted, and should you stab my too fond Heart this Instant, you should perceive me smile to meet the blow; make me your Slave, put round my Neck a Chain, wear my poor Arms with Fetters to the Bone, torture this Body where your Image lies with Cruelties unpractised, and what's worse than all, before my Face, Act Kindness to another. 
You are my Fate, which still I must pursue,  
To show the World what constant Love can do.   Fern. 
And might I choose a Wife 'mongst you bright Host of Radiant Angels, thee I'd prefer before 'em; Runs and Embraces her. Oh thou dear Charmer, thou hast once more won me, cured my dull Sight, and made me see my Folly, shot thy Perfections to my Heart, so strongly, they shall live there for ever.  Doroth. 
Oh kill Joy.  Luscind. 
Ay, now my Lord I honour ye, this was a noble conquest o'er your Passions.  Fern. 
Ah Madam, 'tis with Shame I bend my Knee to beg your Pardon for my Brutal Folly, I was Enchanted, Mad.  Luscind. 
Not more my Lord, you have it.  Fern. 
Heaven, what a thing is Man when Reason leaves him, but I'll retreive my Fame by my new Services, I'll seek Cardenio out, heal his Lovesick Frenzy, and fraught with Joys present him to your Arms.  Doroth. 
Sure without some allay, my Heart can't bear these Transports of true pleasure.  Fern. 
By Heaven, my Breast is so overcharged with Joy, there is no room for thought; call all below, there I'll have a thousand Witnesses of my new Contract and repeated Vows▪  Doroth 
My Uncle Perez that with diligent care found me among the Shepherds, is within, and waits with Impatience, I know, my coming out.  Fern. 
That good Man then shall join our Hands this Instant fast, fast, for ever, lead the way Luscinda, whilst I and my unvalued Blessings follow. Oh my best Life! how could I talk of killing thee, thou tenderest sweetest good, but with Love's Balm. 
‛ I'll heal the hurt my rude Expressions gave,  
‛ I was thy Tyrant, but am now thy Slave.  Exeunt.   

SCENE II. Mountains and Rocks at the end of the Deep Grove.  Enter a Barber with a Basin on's Head, and carrying Triming Instruments, followed by Don Quixot, and Sancho mounted at distance Barber 
Sings. With my Strings of small Wire— etc. Odsdiggers.— This was a rare Contrivance to keep me from the Rain, the Shower would have peppered me else Faith.  Don Qu. 
Stand, Insolent Knight, and yield that precious Helmet or thou Diest.  Barber. 
Helmet, Oh Lord, what d'you mean Sir, what Helmet?  Don Qu. 
That which thou bearest Wretch, the Golden Helmet of Mambrino.  Barber. 
Mambrino, ds'heart Sir, I know no such Man, I am a Barber Sir, and going to Trim a Gentleman in the next Town here, I never use a Helmet, this is nothing but a Basin, Sir.  Don Qu. 
Ha, darest thou dispute, prepare then for the Combat. goes to thirst at him.  Barber. 
Help, Murder, Murder, ds'heartlikings is the Devil in the Man. Runs off and lets the Bason fall and Don Quixot takes it up.  Sancho. 
hay day, what a Plague are ye doing now, Zounds▪ will ye Rob the poor Barber.  Don. Qu. 
What Barber, Jolt-head? dost not see the Treasure I am Master of, for which I've watched so many Nights and Days, and oft resolved to lose my Life or purchase, this is the precious Helmet of Mambrino, Rascal, which I have got as the spoils of Victory, from the Renowned Knight of the three Roses.  Sancho. 
From the Knight of the three Razors, you have indeed.  Don Qu. 
Is it not rare? dost not admire the Workmanship?  Sancho. 
Why, troth Sir, the Basin I must needs say is as clever a Basin as a Man would desire to be Lathered in, but as for any great Workmanship that I see in the Basin.  Don. Qu. 
Basin, what Basin Sot, I tell thee 'tis a Helmet.  Sancho. 
A Helmet, ha, ha, ha, ha, what is this a Helmet?  Don Qu. 
A famous one, and made of Spanish Gold, in value worth a Province, only there wants a Beaver.  Sancho. 
Only you want Brains rather, say, ha, ha, Ha, ha. And so this Helmet you say is all Gold, so, is it?  Don Qu. 
Of Purest Gold, by art too made Impenetrable.  Sancho. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, very good, why then I know where the Wind sits, but of little meddling comes great Ease, let not the fault of the Ass be laid upon the Packsaddle, every Herring must hang by its own Gills, and he that hears much, and speaks not at all, is welcome both in Bower and Hall, and he that—  Don Qu. 
And he that has the Tail and Cloven Feet, take thee for a Blockhead, art thou stringing thy Proverbs again, And a Pox take thee, without Head or Tail to 'em, look out there, Dolt, and see who's coming, if my Eyes dazzle not, here's an Adventure will give occasion to employ this Helmet.  Sancho. 
Pray Heaven we meet no more Carriers, my Bones ache still with the last Combat of Honour, but I think if my Eyes inform right, here's no great fear of a Quarrel, these People are all bound to the peace already.  Enter Palameque, Quartrezzo, Lope, Ruiz, Martinez, Tenorio, and 'Gins de Passamonte, Chained as Galley Slaves, with two Officers and other Soldiers Guarding them. Don Qu. 
Bless me, what Scene of Cruelty is this, dost thou observe how they have Chained and Bound these honest People.  Sancho. 
Honest People, what a Plague are ye Blind again, Zounds! done't you see that these are Rogues, Condemned for some Notorious Crimes and forced by the King to serve in the Galleys.  Don Qu. 
Force, Sancho, the King can force no Body, I must examine this.  Sancho. 
Nay, if you come to examining once, here's like to be fine Work.  1 Officer. 
Pedro, go before to the Inn, at the bottom of the Hill yonder, and bring hither some Wine and a Manchet, that we may refresh a little, the heat of the Day and the Dust have almost Choked me Ex Pedro. come you Sir Thief, of more than common mark, what To 'Gins. are you employing yourself about? what are you gnawing of your Chain hah?  'Gins. 
Gnawing it, why d'ye make an Ostrich of me? d'ye think I can digest Iron? Confound the World, you know well enough I suppose the strength of the Necklace I wear here, or you would not be so Rusty; I should teach you another manner of Speech if my Ten Pickers were at liberty: But come, 'tis well enough, there's no more to be said.  ●. Offic. 
Sirrah, hold your Tongue, and leave swelling, lest I make St. Andrew's Cross upon your Pate.  Don Q. 
By this Man's Inhumanity, Sancho, I do perceive these Wretches have great need of my assistance, therefore I have some thoughts to free 'em.  Sancho. 
The Devil you will.  Don Q. 
It falls out fitly for my Knightly Function to succour the Distressed; therefore no more of your Proverbial Fooleries. I tell thee I'll make them free as Air.  Sancho. 
O Lord, O Lord! Why, pray, Sir, consider a little, you are going to free these Rogues from the Galleys, and the Holy Brotherhood will send us thither in their places; oh that ever I was born! Oons, consider, Good Sir, consider what you are doing.  Don Q. 
Thou foulest Insect, canst thou fear the Brotherhood, when I am by thee; follow me, I say, and Courageously too, or by the Star of my hopes, my fairest Dulcinea deal Toboso, I'll spit thee like a Frog.  Sancho. 
Oh what will become of me; 'sheart, I shall have that grim Fellow's Sword in my Guts within this two Minutes.  Don Q. 
Captain, as a Knight-Errant, on whose sacred Office depends the Laws of executing Justice, and consequently to be well Informed in the Case of the Afflicted, I request to know the reason why these Men are carried thus; for, if my Judgement has informed me right, 'tis much against their Wills.  1. Offic. 
Against their Wills, Sir, why troth, I think there need no great dispute to be made of that; I suppose, there are few Malefactors so very stout hearted to go to the Galleys with their own consent.  Don Q. 
Generous Sir, your Answer is Ingenious, and I beseech you therefore, give me leave to add a little to this Obligation, and know from you, before you pass on further, the nature of their several Crimes.  Sancho. 
So, he's got into his Examinations, and the Devil can't hinder him.  1. Offic. 
The Nature of their Crimes, ha, ha, ha, viewing Don Q. what has he got on his Head there, a Basin? who the Devil is this Scarecrow, I wonder? a Man would take him for one of the Knights of the Round-Table, if 'twere not for his Brazen Head-Piece there aside. The nature of their Crimes, ha, ha, ha, ha, why faith, Sir Knight, or Sir Errand, or what you please to call yourself, I'm not at leisure to give you a six hours' Information of their several Affairs; but if you think fit to take a brief Relation from themselves there they are, I shall have patience till my Comrade comes, and so your Servant, good Knight of the Basin; ha, ha, ha.  Don Q. 
Captain, your Courtesy obliges me. Well Friend, To Palam. what adverse Planet, or odd turn of Fortune has made thee were that Collar, hah.  Palam. 
Love, Sir.  Don Q. 
Love, Can there be such Barbarity in Nature to Chain the Brave, and make 'em Slaves, for Loving: Heavens, I myself had been long since in th' Galleys, if Love had been a Crime that could Condemn me: No, no, dear Brother, set thy Heart at rest, whilst there's a Lover's Arm, and Conquering Sword to strike in thy defence, for this thou shalt not suffer. Embracing the Slave.  Palam. 
Ay, but good Sir, your patience, my Love was not the sort that you conjecture, for you must know, Sir, I was in Love with a parcel of Gold Plate, and that so desperately, that hugging on't too closely had not the Commissary took me napping, I believe we had joined Affections till this hour.  Sancho. 
Look'e, Sir, the Lover there has opened his Case very plainly, He that handles a Thorn shall prick his Fingers; your dear Brother has told ye he's no better than a Thief, in few words.  Don Q. 
The Function discovers Wit in't however, Blockhead. And History tells us, some have made themselves great by't, the Wise Lacedæmonians had none but Thiefs in their Privy-Council; but let that pass now. My young-Stripling, what say you to th' matter? how came you strung here? what brought your Neck to th' Yoke?  To Lope Ruez. Lope. 
The King's Evil, Sir.  Don Q. 
How so, Can the Law punish thee for a Disease.  Lope. 
No, no, Sir, want of Money and ill Friends, that's the Evil I mean.  Don Q. 
Gad thou'rt in the right, Brother, that's a King's Evil indeed.  Sancho. 
So, that's his Brother too, he'll pick up a World of Relations amongst these honest People.  Lope. 
My fault was nothing, only a slip o'th' Tongue, a little Perjury or so, but having no Money, and a damned Covetous Lawyer, that would let no Man Swear falsely but himself, I could not get it off, so was sent hither.  Don Q. 
'Twas hard, troth Brother, but come, to the next in Order, what says your thoughtful Neighbour here, what's he in for?  To Quartrezzo. Quart. 
Why, for a few hot words the Law called Treason, I hate the Government, and I spoke my Mind.  Don. Q. 
There's a brave Fellow for ye now!  Sancho. 
Oh! a very brave Fellow indeed!— damned Rogue, I warrant▪ the Gallows groans for him. Aside.  1 Officer. 
His Brother, there too, has the selfsame Kidney; there are not two such Traitors in all Spain.  Don Q. 
Gad, a mettled Fellow that too, I warrant him, and who knows but some Villainous Lie of some Court Pimp or other has brought him into this condition. Gad, I have seen many a Priest that has not had so honest a look.  Sancho. 
Nay he's an extreme honest Person without doubt— Oh Lord, now do I begin to tremble.  Don Q. 
But come to the Text: What says my old Friend here? What unkind Star? What strange malevolence brings that grey Beard to this calamity? Thy Aspect does seem wise, and I should guests thy Occupation has been Noble too.  Tenorio. 
It has, Sir, and most Ancient: I have been now this Fifty years a Bawd, but that brought me not here, Sir; 'Twas foolish curiosity to know Simples, dealing in Herbs, Wax, Crooked Pins, and Needles, which the vulgar said they found in Sheep and Children; this brought me hither. To be plain, Sir, I am hampered now for Witchcraft.  Sancho. 
Oh! A small matter, a thing of nothing.  Don Q. 
For Witchcraft, Umph! 'Twas there then the Devil owed thee an ill turn: Thy Bawding Trade was honourable enough; great Ministers and Court-Matrons have been Bawds; the Occupation is of ancient standing. But now to th' last; here is, methinks, a Fellow that has a written Volume in his Face of Actions wonderful, chained more too than the rest: The Reason, Captain?  1 Officer. 
The Reason: Why, the Reason is, because that's the very Devil of a Fellow; his Name is 'Gins de Passamonte, a most notorious Villain, that has done more Mischief alone than all the rest have; and, besides, so plaguy strong, that we are not sure he's fast enough, for all he's chained so.  Don Q. 
'Faith he's a fine Person to look on, his Face and Whiskers would become Knight-Errantry extremely, pray look up, Sir, and as the rest have done; be pleased to tell me how the Galleys chance to be honoured with your Company.  'Gins. 
Oh, Sir, for that your humble Servant; 'tis no new thing to me, they have been honoured with that before now, Sir; I know how the Water and Bucket will agree with my hot Stomach.  Don. Q. 
What! for some Duel of Honour, I warrant; some Governors proud Nephew killed by thy Noble Hand.  'Gins. 
No, no, Sir, my Hand was employed another way; I was condemned for seven Years the first time, for ravishing my Sister: Confound the World; I liked her, and there's an end on't.  Sancho. 
Oh! there's another very honest Fellow too.  'Gins. 
And now I'm going thither for Robbing a Church: I had occasion for the Plate and Ornaments, to raise some Money to buy my Whore a Petticoat; and, just as I had got 'em, the Devil sent the Priest to stop me; but I soon gagged and hamstringed that poor Fool, fought through the Town, and, had not a whole Troop of Dragoons, that were by chance a mustering, fallen upon me, I and my Purchase had been now at liberty.  Sancho. 
Very good: Did you never hear of a thing called Conscience, pray Friend?  'Gins. 
Conscience! What's that, the Itch? I had it when I was a Boy, I remember.  Sancho. 
O Lord, Conscience the Itch!— here's a damned Son of a Whore for ye.— Aside. And so then I warrant, honest 'Gins, you would fleece me too upon occasion, were you lose, and I had a good Booty?  'Gins. 
No, no▪ thou look'st too much like a Thief thyself, thou shouldst pass free; we always spare one another.  Don Q. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, there's for you, Bufflle; by the Honour of Knighthood thou deserv'st thy Freedom, if 'twere but for that Jest— Give me thy Hand.  'Gins. 
I have use for them; but there's my Foot at your Service.  Kicks him. Don Q. 
Oh, I cry thee Mercy, I see thou art manacled— but prithee don't be angry, Friend; hark ye, what wouldst say now if I should give thee Liberty?  'Gins. 
Nothing.  Don Q. 
Why so?  'Gins. 
Because an impossibility offered by a Fool, deserves no answer from a wise Man.  Sancho. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, there I think, Sir, your Brother 'Gins was even with you too.  Don Q. 
That thou shalt see presently, and whether to our Profession any thing is impossible. Sir Captain, I have with Care examined all your Prisoners, and find tho' there are several heinous Faults committed, for which the Law should punish 'em, yet the main Stroke of Justice belongs to Heaven; to Heaven's Vengeance therefore let us leave 'em. And, since I am by Oath bound to relieve 'em, as Wretches and distressed, let me entreat you, as a Respect to me, to give 'em Liberty.  1 Officer. 
Liberty! what a Plague, would you have me set the King's Prisoners at Liberty? 'Oons, who would be mad then? No, no, good Sir Errand, march on your way, and settle your Basin right there— Free the King's Prisoners! that were a good one 'faith.  Don Q. 
Your Pate shall want a Basin, Captain Scoundrel. Knocks him down and disarms him. Run, Sancho, and help 'Gins; now, peerless Dulcinea, aid thy Knight; unfetter 'Gins, dear Sancho.  Sancho. 
Now can't I deny him for the Soul of me, tho' Heaven knows what Mischief will come on't.  Here Sancho trips up another's Heels, than unfetters 'Gins, then they all release one another, then they strip the Captain, who runs off: Then enter second Officer with Wine; 'Gins seizes it, strips him, throws all the rest down on one another, and beats 'em. 2. Offic. 
On, the Devil! what's here to do! Treason, Treason; Murder, Murder.  Don Q. 
Now let the World declare, whether Knight-Errantry is not the Noblest of all Sciences! Struts about.  Sancho. 
Or, whether Noble Squires of Knights-Errants ought not to be Earls and Governors of Islands! Struts about.  Omnes. 
Huzza, Liberty, Liberty: Thanks to the Noble Knight-Errant, Liberty, Liberty, Huzza.  'Gins. 
Thanks to our Noble and Valiant Redeemer; here's to his Health; and, Brothers, let's entertain him with a Song. Confound the World. Dear Redeemer, we are no more Rogues than the rest of Mankind; all the World are Rogues, and deserve the Galleys as much as we. Come sing the Song to that purpose, Brother.  

SONG.  

WHen the World first knew Creation,  
A Rogue was a top Profession;  
When there were no more in all Nature but Four,  
There were two of them in Transgression,  
And the Seeds are no less,  
Since that you may guests,  
But have in all Ages been growing apace;  
There's Lying and Thieving,  
Craft, Pride, and Deceiving,  
Rage, Murder and Roaring,  
Rape, Incest and Whoring,  
Branch out from one Stock, the rank Vices in Vogue,  
And make all Mankind one Gygantical Rogue.   

View all humane Generation,  
You'll find in every Station,  
Lean Virtue decays, whilst Interest sways,  
Th'ill Genius of the Nation.  
All are Rogues in degrees,  
The Lawyer for Fees,  
The Courtier Le Cringe, and the Alderman squeeze;  
The Center, the Toper,  
The 〈◊〉 Interloper,  
〈◊〉 sunk, and the 〈◊〉 of Piety 〈◊〉;  
〈◊〉 all, he that 〈…〉,  
And deserts the 〈…〉   

He that first to mend the 〈◊〉  
Made Laws to bind our Nature,  
Should have found a way,  
To make Wills obey;  
And have Modelled new the Creature▪  
For the Savage in Man,  
From Original ran,  
And in spite of Confinement now Reigns as began▪  
Here's Preaching and Praying, and Reason displaying,  
Yet Brother with Brother, is Killing and Slaying;  
Then blame not the Rogue that free Sense does enjoy,  
Then falls like a Log, and believes— he shall lie.    Don Q. 
I do acknowledge, Sirs, your Musical Courtesy, and am well pleased to see your Gratitude; yet one thing more I must enjoin, without which the rest appears as nothing.  'Gins. 
Any thing: Confound the World; dear Redeemer, commandery thing.  Don ● 
'Tis this; That you all, loaden with that Chain from which ●ow have freed ye, go instantly to the great City of Toboso, and there, before my Mistress, Dulcinea, present yourselves, letting her know, her Beauty's Slave, Don Quixote de la Mancha, has sent you to her to inquire her Health.  Palam. 
Toboso.  Quartfield▪ 
Dulcinea!  Mart. 
Inquire her Health!  'Gins. 
And how far is this Toboso off, good Sir?  Sancho. 
Not above a Thousand Leagues; not very far; 'tis a very pretty Message truly.  'Gins 
Confound the World, d'ye know what you say, Sir, to desire us to go a Thousand Leagues? 'Oons, we must hide ourselves in the Mountains here by, for fear of being takend we must shun all Roads and Cities.  Don Q. 
How's that? Dare you disobey my Commands, Rascal?  'Gins. 
Rascal! Keep good Words in your Mouth. D'ye here Friend, we are no Sheep.  Sancho. 
Good Sir, come away whilst you are well; that devilish 'Gins has Mischief in's Heart, I see by's Looks.  Lope. 
We can't go to Toboso, not we, that's in short, Knight.  'Gins. 
No, Knight, we'll go to no Toboso; if you have a Wench, there, and any News for her, you may send by your Booby there; we thank ye for you 〈…〉  Don Q. 
But— 〈…〉 thee 〈…〉 self, and like a Cut to 〈…〉 Legs.— fall on, Sancho, let's chastise 〈…〉  Sancho. 
〈…〉 will become of us now?  Here 〈…〉 upon 'em; they run to a heap of Stones, and 〈…〉 him and Sancho down, and beat 'em. Palam. 
Come, Sirs, the Coast is clear▪ now let's away.  'Gins. 
Follow me, Boys, I'll carry ye where ye may soulk securely,  
To a plump Doxy here hard by of mine  
Shall cheer your Hearts with Kisses and good Wine. Exeunt.  
The End of the Third Act.    

ACT IU.  

SCENE I. The Mountain of Sierra Morena continues.  Don Quixote and Sancho appear lying along on the Ground. Don Q. 
SAncho.  Sancho. 
Umph.— Groans.  Don Q. 
Son Sancho, Art thou asleep?  Sancho. 
Oh, yes, upon a Downe-bed, the Governor lies, as you see here, stretched at his Ease, thanks to your most Invincible Arm, only with some Two or Three Hundred Bruises of State upon his Bones. I have got my Earldom, and a load of Honour now, or else the Devil's in't.  Don Q. 
Look'e, Sancho, I have often told thee, these Successes of Chivalry cannot always be of one Degree or Value; so that tho' naturally, as it may happen, that a Kingdom or a Continent may drop into a Knight-Errant's Mouth, and an Earldom or a Province into his Squire's; so sometimes too they may chance to meet with Carrier's Packstaves, Giants like Windmills, Thumps with Stones, and the like; nor are they to grumble or repine at the variety of Accidents, because they are liable to our Profession.  Sancho. 
Profession! ' Oons, yours is the Devil of a Profession, besides all your Accidents, I mean your ill ones (for good I despair of) are, a plague on't, all of your own making. Would any one with an Ounce of Brains, after he had miraculously done such an Exploit, have pretended to force those rude Rogues to go a Thousand Leagues off, upon a sleeveless Errand to the Devil, to Toboso?— I know not where. Ah.  Don Q. 
Very well, Sancho, talk on, talk on, the smarting of thy Bones I do perceive has made thee sharp and witty. San. grins at him.  Sanch. 
Come, come, Sir, Brabbling Curs never want sore Ears: 'Tis but an ill Procession where the Devil carries the Candle: He that speaks does sow, and he that holds his Tongue may reap. I think I pay dear enough for't if I do talk.  Don Q. 
I confess thou hast Reason, as I have, to resent it; but who could expect such Ingratitude after so good a Turn?  Sancho. 
Who? Wons! Who could expect otherwise from such honest People? Han't you heard often enough the old Proverb, Save a Thief from the Gallows, and he shall be the first to hang ye?— Ah, plague of your Brethren, your Brother 'Gins of Passamonti, the Devil pass him, ' has made me black and blue on my left Side here: But let it go, the Governor will be wiser one day.  Don Q. 
If a desponding Puppy were fit to make a Governor of, I say that for thee, Sancho, thou wouldst make a rare one: But come, I'll not anger thee now, because I know thou art in pain; prithee come hither, and see how many Cheek-teeths and others they have beaten out here, for it seems to me that my Mouth is quite empty.  Sancho. 
Ay, there's some other part of your Head empty too besides your Mouth, if I am not mistaken: But come, let's see, O monstrous! here's six Grinders wanting on one Peeps in's mouth. side: Oh unfortunate and deplorable State of Knights-Errant! that wander over Mountains and Valleys, committing Omicils an Slaughters, not heeding the Sun, the Moon, nor the ' Clipses, or the wild campaign, tho' never so Estill for the reward of broken Teeth and Bruises.  Don Q. 
Oh Profanation to all Learning and Sciences! Omicils, ' Clipses, campaign, and Estill, for Homicides, Eclipses, Champion and Sterile! Be dumb, thou Earthworm, or speak in thy own Style, on pain of Annihilation. A plague on thee, thou confounded Prevaricator of Language. Cardenio Sings within.  Sancho. 
Why then, in my own Style, for you know well enough that I'm no Schollard, I believe here's another Adventure coming, and I hope 'twill end better than the last, because it begins Musically.  Don Q. 
Ha! who have we here?  Cardenio enters in Ragged clothes, and in ● wild Posture sings a Song. Then Exit. 

SONG.  

LEt the dreadful Engines of eternal will,  
The Thunder roar, and crooked Lightning kill;  
My Rage is not, as theirs, as fatal too,  
And dares as horrid execution do.  
Or let the Frozen North its rancour show,  
Within my Breast far greater Tempests grow;  
Despair's more cold than all the Winds can blow.   

Can nothing, nothing warm me?  
Yes, Lucinda's Eyes;  
There Aetna, there, there Vesuvio lies,  
To furnish Hell with flames,  
That mounting reach the Skies.   

Ye Powers, I did but use her Name,  
And see how all all the Meteor's flame,  
Blue Lightning flashes round the Court of Sol,  
And now the Globe more fiercely burns  
Than once at Phaeton's fall.   

Ah! where are now those Flowery Groves,  
Where Zephir's fragrant Winds did play?  
Where guarded by a Troop of Loves,  
the fair Lucinda sleeping lay;  
There Sung the Nightingale and Lark,  
around us all was sweet and gay;  
We ne'er grew sad till it grew dark,  
nor nothing feared but shortening day.   

Glow, I glow, but 'tis with hate,  
Why must I burn for this ingrate?  
Cool, cool it then, and rail,  
Since nothing will prevail.  
When a Woman Love pretends, 'tis but till she gains her ends,  
And for better, and for worse, is for Marrow of the Purse,  
Where she filts you o'er and o'er, proves a Slattern or a Whore.   

This hour will tease and vex,  
And will Cuckold ye the next:  
They were all contrived in spite,  
To torment us, not delight,  
But to scold, and scratch and bite,  
And not one of them proves right,  
But all are Witches by this light:  
And so I fairly bid'em, and the World Good-night.    Don Q. 
By the Matter delivered in this Song, I perceive this poor Gentleman's distress was occasioned by Love; therefore 'tis fit I follow and relieve him.  Sancho. 
You relieve him! 'Sbud, why, don't you see the Man's Mad; how the Devil can you relieve him, unless you could give him Physic? Pray, Sir, hold yourself contented; you may be a good Knight-Errant, but for a Brain-curer, the Lord have mercy upon ye.  Don Q. 
Thou art a Clod, Sancho, and hast not Soul enough to fathom the depth of my Understanding; but know, thou Lump unformed, that our Profession extends to aid the Mind, as well as Body; were he as Mad as Ajax, or that stout Peer of France, Orlando Furioso, with one hours' Conference, I'd make him spout Politics, with a Secretary of State, Law with a Judge at the Assizes, and Theology with a Convocation of Bishops, therefore follow me, and saddle Rosinante immediately, for I intent to overtake him, and then thou shalt see this done in an instant. Exit Don Quix.  Sancho. 
I shall see myself well thrashed again, I believe, and so 'tis likely will end the Adventure of the Madman; but hang't, the Devil is not always at one door, He that is in is half way over, there's no help for't now, I must follow him, tho' my Government come at last to be no better than to govern a Herd of cattle; Well, He that blows in the Dust will make himself Blind; and If it were not for hope, the Heart would break, there's Three Proverbs left yet to comfort me.  Exit after him. Enter Don Fernando, Lucinda dressed like a Nun, Dorothea in her Shepherdess clothes, with Perez and Nicholas. Doroth. 
Can you then be so good? Do I not dream that you have repented of your late unkindness, and now resolve to own poor Dorothea.  Don Fern. 
The Resolution is as firm as Fate; thou'rt now my own for ever.  Lucind. 
Blessed Accent! And now, my Lord, I honour ye: This was a noble Conquest o'er your Passions.  Perez. 
'Tis Great and Worthy, like himself.  Don Fern. 
Ah! Madam, 'tis with shame I bend my Knee to beg your pardon for my Brutal Folly: But I'll retrieve my Credit by my new Service, in presenting to your Arms the wronged Cardenio.  Lucind. 
All Honour and Happiness attend your Lordship; and pray Heaven we may find him quickly: Oh how I long to give that Heart a Remedy that lost its Peace for me!  Perez. 
He cannot be far off; for, as the Shepherds have directed us, yonder's the Rock wherein he sleeps by Night, and where 'tis likely we may find him.  Nichol. 
And did they say Don Quixote was here too?  Perez. 
Both he and Sancho: Therefore, my Lord, if you are resolved to further the Contrivance I lately told ye of, and do an Act of Charity, by getting the poor Lunatic Gentleman home to his House, this is the Place and Juncture.  Don Fern. 
Most willingly, and will make one myself: For the Scene well Acted, must needs create Diversion. Come, my sweet Love, you must have your part too.  Perez. 
Oh! my Lord, she is to be the Principal Actress, and we have a Dress ready for her: She's to Personate the Princess Micomicona, Queen of the get Kingdom of Micomicon in AEthiopia; who being deposed and driven from thence by a monstrous Giant called Pandafilando of the dusky sight, comes some three thousand Leagues to th' famed Don Quixote to redress her Wrongs and re-instate her: This Plot will doubtless draw the frantic Fool from these wild Deserts, and we shall share the Mirth.  Doroth. 
Let's about it presently: And for your Princess, let me alone to divert my dearest Lord here; you shall see me Act it like any Player.  Don Fern. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha! I shall die with Laughing— I'll be some Don to Usher in your Majesty.  Nichol. 
And I'll be your old Squire to introduce your coming: I have the Tail of mine Hosk Mare to make me a Beard shall reach to my Knees.  Don Fern. 
'Twill be rare Sport; my Servants shall all be disguised too for the business: Come, Madam, pray be Merry with us, all will be well; I warrant ye, we shall soon find your Love Cardenio, and cure him of his Frenzy: I have already sent for a Doctor, and given order what to do: And, Madam, doubt not but you shall meet with Joy.  Lucin. 
Heaven grant we may; let me but see Cardenio once more mine; I'll envy not the rest of the World's Pleasures. Exeunt.  Enter Don Quixote, Cardenio, and Sancho. Carden. 
You much amaze me, Sir, in this wild Desert; a place that only suits the Miserable, where People Civilised never inhabit, to meet such Courtesy as yours.  Don Q. 
Sir, Humanity is one of the best Rules of my Profession; and I shall be highly pleased, if my good fortune Salute here. has led me to be any way a means, that may contribute to your Satisfaction.  Carden. 
Your Person I am wholly a stranger to, and cannot but admire, why in this Country, so blessed with Peace, you practise Arts of War, and Travel thus in Armour: But perhaps there is a secret in't not proper for my knowledge; I'll therefore stint my Curiosity, and beg you, if you know where there is any thing to drink, to give a little to assuage my Thirst, for in this slender interval of Sense, I can make use on't; but if my Fit should take me, as at uncertain times it often does, all Charity were lost.  Don Q. 
Run Sancho and search the Wallet, there is, I think, some Wine, bring it hither presently. Sancho stares at Cardenio.  Sancho. 
Why, here's another of the Starving too; a Knight-Errant, I warrant him, by his Tatters: What a devouring meager look he has! 'Sbud, he makes me hungry at the very sight of him. Exit.  Carden. 
And now to satisfy your Curiosity, Sir, of knowing what I am, and how I came thus wretched, I will relate my Story, but with this Condition, that you will promise me upon your Honour, during the time of telling, not to Interrupt me, nor by a Question or Contradiction stop me, for if you should, my Accident of Madness would return, and I should then do things Extravagant.  Re-enter Sancho with Wine. Don Q. 
Oh! fear not, Sir, you shall find me more attentive: Come, fill a Cup, Sancho:— Here, Sir, here's to your better Fortune. Drinks.  Carden. 
May yours be happy, Sir, with perpetual Blessings, whatever becomes of me.  Sancho. 
Why then, by my Governourship, I believe this plaguy Devil my Master can Conjure in good earnest; to my thinking the Madman talks as wisely as any Bishop of'em all already. Cardenio drinks, they sit down.  Don Q. 
Now pray begin, Sir, I am silent as a Dormouse; sit down Sancho.  Carden. 
Know then, good Sir, my Name's Cardenio, a Gentleman of Arragon, well descended, who from my Childhood to my riper Years, lived with a Credit and Content unparalleled, till Love, that fatal bane to humane happiness, subdued my senses to bewitching Beauty, and forced my Soul to dote upon Lucinda, a noble Virgin of unmatched perfection.  Don Q. 
Hum, hum, hum. Don Quixote makes signs of applauding his Story without speaking.  Sancho. 
Come, Sir, Sorrow's dry, and before you go any further, here's your Lady Sindys' health.  Drinks and fills to Cardenio. Don Q. 
Peace, Blockhead; or if you must be Mannerly, with a pox t'ye— do it by Signs as I do. Don Q. seems to threaten Sancho.  Carden. 
Take heed, good Friend; pray remember the Conditions. Sir, I loved her, and was loved with that Success, nothing was wanting but the happy Day, to crown our Wishes, which was at last appointed.  Don Q. 
Hum, hum, hum. Makes Signs.  Carden. 
And because Love's best Guard is Secrecy, I trusted my Affair only to one, the Son of a Grandee, his Name Fernando, my Youth's Companion, and, as I thought, my Friend: him I entrusted with my dearest Treasure, and in his Honour thought myself secure.  Don Q. 
Hum, hum, hum.  Sancho. 
hay, hoe, hum. Drinks.  Carden. 
But ah, let none depend on th' Heart's Sincerity, because the Face seems honest; for some few Days after, Lucinda having a great Wit and Genius, and one that still delighted much in Reading, I sent to her by my false Friend, Fernando, a foolish Book of Chivalry, called Amadis du Gaul; not that she valued it for the Contents, for she had Sense to know 'twas all ridiculous, the Exploits of the Knights-Errant, all Romantic, and their whole Volumes filled with lying Fables. But—  Sancho. 
But! A plague on your Butts,— You Don Qu. starts. and stares. have done your Business: Gad'zooks, here will be Murder presently, my Master will tear out the Soul of him, if he speaks a Word more against Knights-Errant.  Carden. 
But that before, we had a rallying Argument upon a modern Madman called Don Quixote, a strange whimsical Don. Q frowns. Monster, in which I affirmed, That the Bright, Renowned, and Peerless Dulcinea, famed Mistress of that foolish frantic Idiot, had once a Bastard by her Apothecary. Don Q. rises suddenly Sancho trembles.  Don Q. 
Oh Fire, and Furies! Oh shame to Arms and Honour.  Sancho, 
Nay then, the Storm comes with a Vengeance: fire, fire; murder, murder.  Don Q. 
Am I a Knight, and hear this hellish Slander.— Awake, Don Quixote, thou sleep'st, awake I say— Hark'e, dost hear me? Madman, Fool, or Devil, if thou hereafter darest but move thy Lips against sweet Dulcinea, or but so much as name that cursed Pothecary with Peerless Dulcinea, or think of any of his Tools, or Implements— Storax, or Savine, get thee each Day a Heart, for I will be as cruel in the tearing it, as is that abhorred Tongue, that slanderous Viper, in poisoning the Fame of Radiant Dulcinea.— Here Card. throws the Wine in's Face suddenly.  Sancho. 
So, there's the first Gun, the Broad-side's coming, here will be devilish work between the Two Madmen presently.  Carden. 
The Racks a foolish Torture, Phallaris Carden falls into his mad Fit. Bull, or the Iron Wheel of witty Dionysius, that were proper for him— Ha! What art thou! the Traitor Fernando! And thou art his Catamite, his Pimp, art thou? To Sancho.  Sancho. 
Not I, Sir; I'm none of his Pimp not I. Would I were a Mouse for Two Minutes, so I had but e'er a Hole to creep into.  Carden. 
Oh, that I now had Thirty Rows of Teeth, or were an Eagle with an Hundred pair of Claws, that I might tear and eat this Traitor, Traitor. Falls upon Don Q. and Sancho, throws 'em down, beats and kicks 'em, and then Ex.  Don Q. 
Oh, Dulcinea del Toboso, pardon my Negligence, I beseech thee; I had forgot to invoke thy Influence when first I rose this Morning, and see what comes on't:— is the Madman gone, Sancho.  Sancho. 
Yes, yes, and wonderfully recovered; you have been as good as your Word, you have cured him to a Miracle. Whether he can spout Politics like a Statesman, or Law like a Judge, I know not; but he can kick and cuff like a Devil, that I'm sure of. Weeps.  Don Q. 
A Plague of his mad Pate, the fit was a little too far gone upon him.  Sancho. 
A Plague of Radiant Dulcinea, I say, would the 'Pothecary had poisoned her; or would her Nurse— had drowned her— in her Cradle— with a Water of her own●making— rather than my Bones had been concerned about her, or her Bastard either.— But come, better late than never, I'm resolved now to retire in time from this Highway to Battoons and Bruises, and visit my Wife and Children again, whilst I can make shift to crawl to 'em; for to that Scantity of Travelling my Squireship has brought me. Sancho speaks sobbing.  Don Q. 
Wilt thou then leave me, Sancho?  Sancho. 
Leave ye? ay, and 'tis high time, I think, Sir: 'Tis an old Saying, The Ant had Wings to do her hurt: Farewell Knight-Errantry i'faith: And to begin to get rid on't, there Sir— there's the dudgeon Dagger you gave me, the Rust upon't has kept it warm and quiet; Besides I never showed it the Sun to tan it, not I: There's the Murrain too, that did Service at the Siege of Golletta; this Jerkin likewise, that has defied all Wethers; pray give 'em your next Squire, together with some hard Crusts here to keep his Teeth going, lest he forget to use 'em: These, I think, are the main part of my Equipage, and so part fair.  Don Q. 
'Tis very well.  Sancho. 
As for the Government of the Island you promised me, e'en let that hang a drying a little, for some more able Earl than I to manage, for I'm satisfied now, That the Hen lays as well upon one Egg as upon many; and several come for Wool that return shorn; so much thou'rt worth as thou hast, and so much thou hast as thou'rt worth. I know you don't like my Proverbs, but now 'tis as broad as long, Better Play a Card too much than too little; a good Paymaster needs no Surety: And my Grannum used to say, The Legs carry the Belly, and not the Belly the Legs; and there's an end on't.  Don Q. 
Oh Pox! Nay go on, go on, thread 'em, string 'em, away with 'em, take thy Belly full of Proverbs at parting however, but remember this when I am an Emperor, Dogbolt  Sancho. 
An Emperor, ah! Gad save your hot head, you had better go home along with me, and look to your Ploughman.  Don Q. 
'Tis very well, Clodpole.  Enter Nicholas, disguised with a long White Beard. Nicho. 
Know thou most doughty and renowned Knight-Errant, that I am called the Squire of the White-Beard, Servant to the mighty Princess Micomicona, Queen of the great Kingdom of Micomicon in AEthiopia, who, by the Fame of thy most noble Deeds, has Travelled from her Country to this Place, to beg a Boon of thee; and now, behind you Bush she stands on foot, and begs admittance to thy Lordly Presence. Bowing.  Don Q. 
Friend, go and tell the Queen, Don Quixotes at her Service, and will attend her here— hum, hum, looking scornfully on Sancho.  Sancho. 
How's this? A great Queen come from her Country to beg a Boon of him; 'sbud, if this Squire of the Beard should speak Truth now, I have made a fine business on't. Zookers, here she comes as fair as a Church Saint, as bright as a Cherubin; ' sdheartlikins, I ne'er saw such a Creature in my Life.  Enter Don Fernando leading Dorothea as the Princess Micomicona, with a Retinue of Servants Dressed after the Moorish Fashion. She Kneels. Don Q. 
By the Honour of Knighthood, Madam, 'tis too much, your Greatness must not kneel to your unworthy Servant; nay, I beseech your Majesty.  Doroth. 
Thrice Valiant Knight, thou flower of Chivalry, Soul of true Lovers, and quintessence of Courtesy, I've sworn to live for ever in this Posture, and make my bended Knees one piece with the Earth, unless you grant me the Request I come for.  Don Q. 
Madam, I'll do't whate'er it be, therefore pray rise, let me but know what Miscreant has wronged ye, this powerful Arm shall Thunder in your Quarrel more swift than the hot Bolts that split the Clouds.  Don Fern. 
I see, most Renowned Sir, loud Fame has done you Justice in sounding through the World your Courtesy.  Doroth. 
Assured of this, I now may rise with Comfort. Rises.  Enter Perez. Perez. 
All Honour to the blazing Comet of Knight-Errantry, the Rose and Tulip of Fame and Fortitude, my Noble Countryman Don Quixote de la Mancha, the Report of this great Queen's coming being spread already through our Neighbourhood, so far increased my Joy and Wonder, that I could not contain myself from seeking you out and being an Eye witness.  Sancho. 
Ay 'tis so, I am utterly undone, a most miserable Rogue; stay, is there no way to Rigg myself without his taking notice.  Sancho steals on his things again. Don Q. 
I am glad to see your Reverence well, good Mr. Curate, and would entertain ye longer, but that I thirst to receive the Queen's Commands.  Perez. 
The Trick takes rarely I see. Aside.  Don Fern. 
As we could wish, but how thrives our Affair, have my Servants found Cardenio.  Perez. 
Just as I came hither, as he was lying fast asleep under a Cork-Tree, he was very unruly at first, he being overpowered by Numbers, they soon bound him, and carried him to the Inn you ordered.  Den Fern. 
And has Lucinda seen him.  Perez. 
Not yet, I have advised the contrary, till he has taken the Medicine the Doctor ordered, and slept upon't.  Don Fern. 
'Tis well; in the morning I myself will be his Doctor; at present let's mind the Game on foot.  Dorth. 
To be brief then, brave Sir: In AEthiopia, where the Sun sheds his swarthy Influence, making my Natives all of Sable hue, as I had been, had not the skill in Charms of my kind Father, wise Finacrio, hindered it in those Dominions: You must know, I'm called— I'm called— Most Generous Knight:— I say I'm called— O Heavens! the memory of my Griefs hinders my very Speech! What, am I called quickly, 'dslife I've forgot? To Perez aside.  Perez. 
The Princess Micomicona!  Doroth. 
I'm called, the Princess Micomicona, so named from the Kingdom of Micomicon, late left me by my Father.  Sancho. 
How Proud he looks already? There's some great Honour coming to him, I see't in's Face:— O Dog, Dog Sancho! done't you deserve to be Hanged? aside.  Doroth. 
The good old King knew by his Skill in Magic, what would befall me after he was dead, how Pandafilando of the Dusky Sight, a horrid Brutal and misshapen Giant, should treat of Marriage with me, which refused, should then make War, and drive me from my Kingdom, to relieve me from which distress, he told me at his death that I must travel into Spain, where I should happily meet with a Knight-Errant, the honour of his Country, and that Order, the Valour of whose Arms should kill the Giant, and presently restore me to my Kingdom; which Knight must be yourself, to whom (my Father has commanded me) after the Giant's Death, if you think fitting, to give myself in Marriage, and make you Monarch of Micomicon.  Don Q. 
Oh Madam, your Father was too gracious,— what think you now, Hog-rubber, is Knight Errantry worth chawing, hah?— Which had I better do now, be an Emperor, or go home and mind the Ploughman, umph, Jolt-head? To Sancho.  Sancho. 
Ah, dear Sir, consider no man is born wise; a Bishop is no more than another Man without Grace, and good Breeding. 〈◊〉, I confess myself a Booby, Sir, a fearful Scoundrel: There's 〈…〉, I beseech ye, Sir, break it across, or if you please to honour 〈…〉 a Dozen or two of Kicks, Sir, I shall think myself 〈…〉, so you dissuade your anger, and forgive me.  〈◊〉. 
Her Majesty I hope remembers likewise that the wise King to reward my Fidelity when this good Knight had slain Pandafilando, gave charge to make her Suit to him, that I might be an Earl or Governor of some Island.  Sancho. 
You an Earl! hark'e Friend, Slow Fire makes sweet Malt. There may be more than one Egg in a Hen-Roost. If you meddle with my Mouth I shall snap at your Fingers; d'ye see, therefore look to yourself; what a Plague, all is not got by wearing of long Beards.  Don Q. 
No, no, Friend, you know you must go visit your Wife and Children.  Sancho. 
Ah Sir, if you mention that, you slay me,— you flay me alive. Alas, Sir, I dare as well hang myself as go home without my Government; my Wife, and the young Cockatrice my Daughter, now I have put this plaguy Countess-ship into her Head, will worry me if I fail her.  Don Q. 
Well, Vermin, for some good service past, in consideration too of some late Drubbing, I will once more take thee into Grace; but if again I catch thee Grumbling, thou art no more my Squire; there are others would be Earls too, you see, Sancho.  Sancho. 
What, that dry old Kex? 'Gad I'd have throttled him with his own Whiskers if he had said Three Words more.— But come, 'tis well enough now; and since we are reconciled, as soon as ever you marry that delicate fine Queen there,— my Island will be within an Inch of me in a twinkling.  Nicho. 
I shall laugh out. I'm not able to hold. Aside.  Perez. 
Was ever Fool so transported! Aside.  Fern. 
Hush; look Grave; his Master turns this way. Aside.  Doroth. 
You have raised me from the lowest Vale of Sorrow, to the highest Mountain, Sir, of Humane Happiness: I'm all Air methinks. Let Music sound there; and let my menial Slaves begin a Dance to entertain this wonder of Knight-Errantry. Dance here.  Sancho. 
This will I make my Black Subjects do every Morning to divert me.— I'll sing a Song that was made at Teresa's and my Wedding, that her Majesty may know my Parts.  Sancho Sings a Song, and then Dances ridiculously. 

SONG.  

'tWas early one Morning, the Cock had just crowed:  
Sing hay ding, hoe ding, langtridown derry;  
My Holiday clothes on, and Face newly mowed,  
With a hey down, hoe down, drink up your brown Berry.  
The Sky was all painted, no Scarlet so Red,  
For the Sun was just then getting out of his Bed,  
When Teresa and I went to Church to be sped,  
With a hay ding, hoe ding, shall I come to Woo thee;  
hay ding, hoe ding, will ye buckle to me,  
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, derry, derry, derry ding, ding,  
ding, ding, ding, hay langtudown derry.   

II.  
Her Face was as fair as if't had been in Print;  
Sing hay ding, etc.  
And her small Ferret Eyes did lovingly Squint,  
With a hey down, etc.  
Yet her Mouth had been damaged with Comfit's and Plumbs,  
And her Teeth that were useless for biting her Thumbs,  
Had late, like ill Tenants, forsaken her Gums,  
With a hay ding, hoe ding, etc.   

III.  
But when Night came on, and we both were a Bed;  
Sing hay ding, etc.  
Such strange things were done, there's no more to be said;  
With a hey down, etc.  
Next Morning her Head ran of mending her Gown;  
And mine was plagued, how to pay Piper a Crown,  
And so we rose up, the same Fools we lay down,  
With a hay ding, hoe ding, etc.    Doroth. 
This is unexpected.  Don Q 
My Squire, Madam,— honest and trusty, but no great Head piece.  Doroth. 
He has performed to a miracle, and I resolve to do him grace. Kisses her Hand.  Sancho. 
Now spawn of old Father Time, let me see your Beard do as much.  Nicho. 
Her Majesty values me more for my Head than my Heels, Skip-Jack.  Don Fern. 
Madam, you must needs have heard of the Renowned Sancho Panca; his Fame sounds almost as loudly as Don Quixotes; this is the famous Squire, Madam, 
That by his Master's side defies Battoons and Clubs,  
Whose Back and Sides, both Black and Blue now, wear the honoured Drubs.   Sancho. 
That I do by my Faith, Madam; which, if your Majesty will give me leave to strip, you shall see if you please.  Doroth. 
I know him now, he's just the very Person my Father once described, who I also remember was sorry for a Misfortune which he knew by his Art had happened to him, which is, that Sancho's married, to whom I else had been obliged to give one of my Maids of Honour.  Sancho. 
Why then, the Devil take all Ill Luck; now I see that old Saw is true that says, Every Man once in his Life will find a minute to curse his Marriage. If I had not been yoked now to my Blouze at home, a Pox take her, I might have had a May Lady, a Virga tacta, with a Head as gaudy as a Tulip, and a shape as slender: 'Odzookes, I've no patience to think on't; I'll go and hire some Rat-Catcher to anoint the Cups and Dishes at home: Who the Devil would lose Preferment for the sake of Two-Penny-worth of Ratsbane?  Perez. 
In troth, my good Friend and Neighbour, honest Sancho, I am Sorry to hear this; for as I remember, 'twas my luck to give Teresa and you the Blessing.  Sancho. 
A Plague on your Blessing; I perceive I shall have occasion to wish you hanged for your Blessing— Good finisher of Fornication, good Conjunction Copulative.  Nicho. 
The profane Wretch defame's the Holy Ordinance of Marriage, and aught to be presented to the Inquisition.  Perez. 
Speak reverently of our Function, Sancho, or I'll Excommunicate you the Church.  Sancho. 
I care not; I should lose nothing by it if you should, but my Nap in an Afternoon.  Doroth. 
Is your Valour, Sir, at leisure to begin the Journey towards the Giant?  Don Q. 
Madam, I am. Sancho, a word with thee▪ I've been considering on this Adventure, and must confess, tho' I may be an Emperor, my Head runs more on Honours Ecclesiastical; a Pope, methinks, or Cardinal; I'm for some grave and solid Dignity that tends towards Religion.  Sancho. 
Religion! Oh Gadzooks, Sir, never mind it; take care of being Priestridden, good Sir, whatever you do, unless you have a mind to lose all your Dominions as soon as you come to 'em.  Don Q. 
I must reflect upon't. Now Madam, please your Majesty to set forward. 
Lead me where e'er you please; 'tis still my duty  
To right a Ladies wrongs, and fight for Fame and Beauty.   Don Fern. 
Long live the Illustrious and Incomparable Knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha. Exit Don Quixote, leading Dorothea, and Fernando following.  Perez. 
How I admire his Fortitude and Virtue!— Well Neighbour, what's your business. Perez going out, Sancho stops him.  Sancho. 
Why, look'ee Neighbour, tho' I wished you hanged just now, 'twas only in my Passion, d'ye see,— and never the sooner for a hasty Word— you know; and therefore because I know you can forget and forgive, I'll make bold to desire a Favour of you.  Perez. 
Well Neighbour, tho' you were a little hard upon the Priesthood; yet because I know 'twas done without any intention of harm, I'll pass it by for once; come, what is't?  Sancho. 
Why, you must know that my Master, Don Quixote, is just now breeding a new Maggot in his Pate, not to be an Emperor, but a Pope, or a Cardinal: And if so, my Preferment's gone again, for I am wholly unfit for any (what d'ye call it) Ecclastical Dignity, because I am a married Man; and for me to be every foot hunting for Dispensations to enjoy Church-living, were to pound a Snowball in a Mortar, with design to make Powder on't; therefore I would desire you as his Friend, to advise him to be an Emperor by all means, that I may have an Office proper; for to say the truth, I may chance to make an Angel of a Governor, but I shall be a very Devil of a Churchman.  Nicho. 
How's this? Have I caught thee a second time vilifying the Church? nay now the Inquisition shall know it, and the Maid of Honour be mine for my good service: I'll about it instantly; you are a precious Rogue indeed.  Sancho. 
Will ye so, ye old Bearded Goat? I'll have a Tuft on you first i'faith; I'll send ye marked to the Inquisition however. How now! What a Plague, does he shed his Beard Sancho goes to take him by the Beard, and pulls it off. as Snakes do their Skins? hay day, who the Devil have we here? our merry Neighbour and Townsman Mr. Nicholas the Barber?  Nicho. 
The Planets have decreed it— Sword, Stares as if mad. Fire, Ruin, Plague and Desolation. Woe be to Spain! the fatal Beard is off. Exit Nicho.  Perez. 
I must second the Barber,— or this Accident will— discover us— Aside. The great Eclipse is coming; Doomsday too is near. Woe, Woe to Spain! the fatal Beard is off.  Exit Perez. Sancho. 
The Beard is off indeed, and as cleverly as the wearer himself could have shaved it: But what this is to Spain, and Eclipses, and Doomsday, there I am puzzled again. The Beard has discovered the Barber, and if the Barber don't discover the Trick of the emchanted Beard, I shall begin to fear there's some Dog trick in the business; I knew him for an arch Rogue when he was at home, and therefore doubt him the more now; 'Gad I must after him and know the Truth— But stay, first let's take a Dram of Consideration, Friend Sancho— Let me see— 
The Fortunes of this Day are worth repeating▪  
My Morning's Breakfast was a lusty beating;  
My Nooning time, more lucky tho' by far,  
Crammed then with hopes to be a Governor.  
But now, this Evening Whim has changed it so,  
That what I am, Plague take me if I know;  
Whether an Earl, fit to wear Pearl and Ruby,  
Or Sancho, as I was— a Country Booby.  Exit.  
The End of the Fourth Act.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I. The Ordinary▪  Enter Fernando and Lucinda. Fernand. 
HE's dressed, and ready to come out; the Doctor tells me too his Sense is perfectly recovered, the Frenzy being only continued by Colds and ill Diet, the Medicine has taken effect, which, assisted by his gentle Sleeps, have quite restored him.  Lucind. 
The Sorrow and Distresses he has suffered, have changed him so, I fear he has forgot me.  Fernand. 
Never fear it, Madam— Here he comes, pray step in there till I am ready for ye. Exit Lucinda.  Enter Cardenio new dressed. Carden. 
My Lord, it seems I stand indebted to ye for Courtesies relating to my Health of Brain and Body, but my wounded Soul, in its most dear and tender part, my Love, stabbed by your Falsehood and unnatural Cruelty, stands yet unsuccoured, that is, unrevenged; therefore as I must thank ye for the one, my Sword for th' other demands Satisfaction. Cardenio draws.  Fernand. 
Hold, pause a little: The Sacred Blood of Friends is of more value than to be shed rashly without debate or reasoning. What's your Quarrel to me?  Carden. 
Oh, bring me not to my mad fit again, from whence I'm just relieved, by such a cursed Repetition. Lucinda! think on Lucinda.  Fernand. 
Well, I'll speak the rest, I know I took her from thee.  Carden. 
And canst thou hope to live? Offers to fight.  Fernand. 
Hold yet, and hear me speak: 'Twas my resistless Love, not I, betrayed thee; the God of Amity opposed in vain; all the soft Bonds of our endearing Friendship, were scorched and burnt, by her bright Eyes, to Ashes.  Carden. 
I'll hear no more; defend thyself, or die. Offers again.  Fernand. 
I will not fight with thee. Is this obscure Cottage a proper Stage to drink the Blood of Friends? No, I'll reserve it for some Amphitheatre, that when we play the Prize for fatal Beauty, no less than Thousands may admire the Action.  Carden. 
Away thou Trifler, I am loath to call thee Coward.  Fernand. 
I believe thee, and know thou canst not do it with a safe Conscience; for I, too often in our days of Friendship, have proved myself so contrary, that well thou knowest I fear thee not, Cardenio; no, the reason why I refuse, is— I have wronged thee; and by my good Will, I would have my Blood be the last means of giving Satisfaction; therefore I charge thee first mark my Proposals: I took a Lady from thee— Well, to atone it, here is one in Exchange, whom if you use ill, or with undecent Obstinacy slight, we then must fight indeed. Brings in Lucinda veiled.  Carden. 
And so we must, Sir; your Women shall not be your Bucklers long.— Ha!— This is a Face indeed that my Heart bows to, whose Eyes, though guilty, are too fierce for mine. She unveils and embraces him.  Lucind. 
My dear Cardenio, I am thine for ever; cheer thy sad Looks, and smile with Joy upon me; for Fate shall never, never part us more.  Carden. 
Oh thou sweet Vision, get thee from my sight, for I must love thee, tho' I know thee false.  Lucind. 
By Heaven I am as true as Truth itself; the Letter thou receiv'st, was not of mine, but of Don Fernand's counterfeiting.  Carden. 
Ha! What is't I hear! Don Fernand's counterfeiting?  Fernand. 
I must confess it was, Sir; for which I ask your Pardon; my headlong, rash, and most ungoverned Passion, checked at no Crime, that would indulge my Wishes: This caused her flight into a Nunnery, from whence I forced her, and had no doubt proceeded, had not my Guardian Angel, my dear Dorothea, proved my good Genius to prevent my Mischief.  Enter Dorothea. Carden. 
Oh Heaven! is this Dorothea!  Lucind. 
The very same, Sir.  Fernand. 
Let this atone then for my rash Offence, that I surrender back this precious Jewel, bright and unsullied; and for my Sin in seeking to corrupt her, with Shame and sorrow once more beg your Pardon.  Carden. 
My Lord, you've done me Justice, and I thank ye. Oh my sweet Life! I shall grow wild with Joy, such vast content crowds in, I cannot bear it. Oh, Madam! How shall I repay your Goodness too? To Dorothea.  Doroth. 
Let me be happy in the reuniting my Lord and you, I then am overpaid.  Carden. 
Let this declare my willingness, I have forgot what's past.  Fernand. 
And this mine— we will be Friends for ever. They embrace.  Enter Perez, and Nicholas. Carden. 
Oh, my honest and worthy Friend, I am thy Debtor too.  Perez. 
My Care, Sir, was my Duty, and I'm heartily glad to see my Diligence so well succeed. And now if you please to change the Scene, and give yourselves a little Diversion, there's Matter working within, will occasion it I'm sure.  Doroth. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— what, Sancho has told his Master, I suppose, the Accident of the Beard?  Nicho. 
Yes, and in the horriblest fright you ever knew; he is now with him; the Rogue begins to stumble upon our contrivance of the Princess too, Madam; so that we must set more Wheels going.  Fernand. 
But prithee how wilt thou tope upon him now, for he must needs know thee now thy Face is bare?  Perez. 
We'll make him believe that all things are governed by Enchantment. The Innkeeper has provided half a dozen merry Fellows, with Magicians and Devils visards, such as are used in Carnaval time, with other rare Antics, and all to assist in the Frolic. He also has a rare Contrivance to carry him off, which is, a great wooden Cage, in which Two Eagles formerly were kept; the use of it, if you please to be present, you'll see with Satisfaction; and if you can laugh, you'll have cause I warrant you.  Nicho. 
Your Lordship must take no notice that you know me, not look and speak as if you ne'er had seen me.  Fern. 
I'll warrant thee, my merry Face-Smoother, I'll humour the Jest.  Doroth. 
And to confound Sancho the more, I'll go to his Master presently, and press him to go on with his Journey towards the Giant.  Perez. 
I'll wait on ye, and second what you say.  Nich. 
And then come I enchanted.  Lucind. 
We must be Spectators of the Sport too, one way or other.  Carden. 
Oh, that may be easily done; and to help forward with the Jest, I'll go and act the part of an Enchanter, and assist in the Song. I long, methinks, to see this strange Knight-Errant, for I remember him not; tho' once in my Distress, I'm told I met him to his cost.  Fernand. 
Ha, ha, ha,— I heard indeed you swinged him once confoundedly. But come, prithee, let's make haste to him, and see this rare performance of Enchantment.  Doroth. 
●Tis time we were there. Come Uncle, you are to second me. Exeunt.   

SCENE II. The Town with the Inn.  Enter Don Quixote and Sancho with the Beard. Don Q. 
THou tell'st me Wonders, Sancho.  Sancho. 
Strange, and true, Sir— There's the Beard, and within is the Barber; I am sure these Eyes saw him; and I think I know his snivelling, Sheep-stealing Phiz too well to be mistaken in him.  Don Q. 
I am not a Jot the more of thy Opinion because thou sayst thou hast seen him; for, Sancho, I am satisfied thou canst not see.  Sancho. 
Not see!—  Don Q. 
No, thy Sense is often blind— thy Reason always; besides a Thousand strange Defects brood in thee to clog thy Understanding.  Sancho. 
Very good: Well, will you do me the Favour to let me feel then, if I can't see? Will you let me be sensible of the Dash in the Chops, that damned Squire of the Horse-Tail gave me before I unbearded him; I hope I may with some Assurance say I felt that, mayn't I?  Don Q. 
Why, according to the Stoical Philosopher— no.  Sancho. 
No? no, what a strange kind of a Creature am I then, that can neither feel nor see! But whatever you say of my Understanding, I'm sure I know this, That a Man's Life is a Winter's Day, and a Winter's way: A Cudgel that bruises, is a thing that contuses▪ I have a sore place here in my Shoulder, occasioned by a Stone from one of the Galley Slaves, shall make me believe I can feel, whatever your damned Stockick or Philosopher, with a Pox to him, says to the contrary.  Don Q. 
I tell thee, Clod-pate, there is no certainty in Nature; so that if thy Nose were battered flat with a Smith's Hammer, or thy Head opened with a Church-key, so that one might see thy Brains, thou ought'st not unlearnedly to say, thy Head is really broke, but that thou supposest it to be so.  Sancho. 
Ah, the Devil take your Suppose, will you make me mad? Won't you let me feel I am beaten, when the Cudgel is upon me? nor see that the shame Squire yonder, is that cunning Rogue, Nicholas the Barber of our Town, that comes to put a Trick upon ye? and that the Beard you hold in your Hand there is a White Horse Tail tied on to play his Prank in?  Don Q. 
Why 'Faith as to the Beard, it may seem to thee a Horse Tail indeed, as I confess it does to me; but 'tis Obstinacy to be positive in't, because thou know'st too well how these Enchanters persecute me.  Sancho. 
Ah plague, nay, if that Whim possess your Brain again, you will find a number of Enchantments within yonder: There's your Lady Misrisoma, what a Devil d'ye call her, is as much a King's Daughter too, as I am a Knight of the Garter, or Golden Fleece; the Giant Dandipratdando may dance a Jig in her Dominions as long as he pleases, for all your Prowess: for Curiosity tempting me to peep through the Keyhole of a Door this Morning, who should I see, but your chaste delicate Misrisoma, sitting in the Lap of the young Rampant Spanish Don that came with her, and clinging as close as two Faces in a Medal.  Don Q. 
How's this!— O excommunicated Rascal, dar'st thou affront the Queen?  Sancho. 
Queen! ' Oons, what Queen? 'tis a hopeful Queen that will let one of her Subjects ruffle her like a Bulker in a Bawdy-house. 'Sbud, I saw him brush his Whiskers upon her Face twenty times one after another.  Don Q. 
Oh slanderous Villain, thou hast lived too long. Beats him.  Sancho. 
Oh, good Sir, Mercy, Mercy, I may be mistaken— I do but suppose I saw all this— I do but suppose it, Sir.  Don Q. 
Suppose this then too, Rascal— to confirm ye. Beats him.  Enter Dorothea. Doroth. 
Hold thy dead-doing Hand, most Noble Errand: Wonder of Wonders! What Empire's revolution, or other accident of vast and mighty moment, could raise the Anger of the great Don Quixote?  Don Q. 
That Rat, that Vermin there, that but for the Reverence I bear to your Majesty's Person, my Foot should tread into his primitive Clod, amongst his fellow Worms that there inhabit: Would you believe it, Madam? the Blasphemous Varlet had the Impudence to tell me you were no Queen! And that you were as familiar with the Master of your Ceremonies, as if he had been privy to your Intellect, and had got ye an Heir to the Kingdom of Micomicon.  Doroth. 
Oh! I forgive him freely; his Error, no doubt, is caused by some Illusion, that often happens in my Affairs: Therefore, Noble Sir, let's go with our best speed t' attack the Giant; when he is dead all these chimaeras vanish.  Don Q. 
Desponding Hang dog, what say you to this now? Is she a Queen, or no?  Sancho. 
Why? as well as a beaten Governor can give his judgement, I do suppose she is.  Enter Perez and Nicholas. Perez. 
Miracles! Miracles! Bold Knight, stand on thy Guard; for here's a wonderful Adventure coming; the Inn's all in Confusion; and by the several Transformations there, we find the Enchanters are in search for thee: My Hostess within Mews like a Cat, and Maritornes answers like a Screech Owl; two bawling Carriers are turned into He-Asses, and Bray incessantly; and the good Reverend Squire here to this Sage Princess, seems in my Eyes, changed like to our Town Barber.  Don Q. 
Oh Power of strong Enchantment! Is this possible? But that I know how I am persecuted, I should have sworn this was my very Neighbour, that oft with Razor-keen and Lathering Washball, mowed the rough Stubble from my dented Chin, and snapped his Fingers with acute Agility.  Doroth. 
This cannot be my Squire, I know him not.  Sancho. 
Ha— ah— Sancho grins and shakes his head.  Nichol. 
I am thy Squire, O Queen, but now Enchanted by the Sage Merlin, who is coming hither for endeavouring to deprive great Sancho Pancha of the Wife the Fates allot him, the Maid of Honour; for in short time the Destinies so order, Teresa shall bequeath to Death her Beauties, and he survive with the fair Rumpibella.  Don Q. 
D'ye hear this, Bacon-face? Are not you a damned desponding Son of a Whore, hah? What can you say now?  Sancho. 
Why, I say, good News and a Bag-pudding, is better than ill with nothing to Dinner: If Mistress Rump, what d'ye call her, fall to my lot by your means, you shall suppose me another drubbing as soon as you please; and as for Teresa's Beauty, let her bequeath it to the Devil, or where she pleases: All Shoes fit not all Feet; Sancho shall bear the loss of that well enough.  Enter Don Fernando and Lucinda. Fernando. 
Prodigy on Prodigy! Stand forth, thou most Renowned, for an Adventure's coming hither to thee, has struck us blind with gazing: A Golden Chariot drawn by fiery Horses, descended from the Sky, and out of which came forth an Aged Man with a Majestic form.  Lucind. 
He comes, he comes; O how I tremble!  Don Q. 
Madam, dismiss your fear; whilst I am by ye, you are safe as in a Sanctuary.  Enter Vincente disguised like Merlin. Vincent. 
To thee, O Knight of the Ill-favoured Face, from my low Cell near hot Vesuvio's Mount, where our black Spirits with perpetual labour, surrounded with blue Flames and sulphurous Smoke, with horrid silence, forge our Magick-Spells; I, the Sage Merlin, come, sent by the Fates, to hinder for a time, thy present Enterprise: The Queen must Patience have, and Pandafilando revel and range within her large Dominions, till it shall come, that the Manchegan Lion and the Tobosian Dove are joined in Wedlock; for so 'tis fixed, spite of Trinacrio and his Pristine Charms: Therefore, all you my Partners in the secret, dark and mysterious Art of Necromancy, appear, and with a Charm as strong as Destiny, seize on the most Illustrious Knight and Squire, and in the Enchanted Chariot bear 'em hence, to th' place the Fates have ordered. Dreadful sounds of Music heard.  Enter two Women representing Urganda and Melissa, two Enchantresses, led by Montesmo, another Enchanter. They seize Don Quixote and Sancho Pancha. Don Q. 
I feel the Charm already; my Blood freezes, and my Enervate Arms, enured to Battle, grow weak and spiritless.  Sancho. 
What d'ye feel? 'sbud, Sir, you only fancy so; for my part I feel nothing, not I, only my Finger's itch to be battering that old Fellow; who for all his disguise there, is as like mine Host of that plaguy Inn, where I was tossed in a Blanket t'other day, as one Thumb is like another: Ay, and now I look nearer him, 'tis he, Sir, 'tis he:— A Trick, a Trick, 'Gadzooks, I know him.  Don Q. 
Peace, sordid Wretch.  Nichol. 
Oh Impudent Scoundrel! Darest thou affront the Great Merlin, that designed so well for thee. The Inchantresses seize him, he struggles to get loose.  Fernand. 
See, Merlin frowns; woe, woe be to thee, Sancho!  Doroth. 
I fear we shall be punished for his sake.  Lucind. 
Oh, naughty Sancho, hast thou no sense of fear, when thou seest the very. Offspring of the Devil before thy Eyes? I shall laugh out; I am scarce able to contain— Lord, how the Fools look!  Aside to Lucinda. Music sounds in Recitative, than an Enchanter and two Inchantresses, sing in parts this Song. 

SONG.  Montesmo 
WIth this, this sacred charming Wand,  
I can Heaven and Earth command.  
Hush all ye Winds that curl the angry Sea,  
And make the rolling Waves obey.  Urganda. 
I from the Clouds can conjure down the Rain,  
And make it Deluge once again.  Melissa. 
I when I please make Nature smile as gay,  
As at first she did on her Creation Day.  
Groves with eternal sweets shall fragrant grow,  
And make a true Elysium here below.  Chorus. 
Groves with Eternal sweets shall fragrant grow,  
And make a true Elysium here below.  Melissa. 
I can give Beauty, make the aged young,  
And Love's dear momentary Rapture long.  Urgand. 
Nature restore, and Life, when spent, renew;  
All this by Art can great Urganda do.  
Why then will Mortals dare  
To urge a Fate, and justice so severe?  
See there a Wretch in's own Opinion Wise,  
Laughs at our Charms, and mocks our Mysteries.  Melissa. 
I've a little Spirit yonder,  
Where the Clouds do part asunder,  
Lies basking his Limbs  
In the warm Sunbeams,  
Shall his Soul from his Body plunder.  Urganda. 
Speak shall it be so? No,  
That Fate's too high; I'll give him one more low.  Melissa. 
Let it be so, etc.  
Appear, ye fat Fiends that in Limbo do groan,  
That were, when in Flesh, the same Souls as his own.  
You that always in Lucifer's Kitchen reside,  
'Mongst Sea Coal, and Kettles, and Grease newly tried:  
That pampered each day with a Garbage of Souls,  
Broil Rashers of Fools for a Breakfast on Coals.  
These Mortals from hence to convey try your skill;  
Thus Fates and our Magical Orders fulfil.  Chorus. 
Appear, ye fat Fiends that in Limbo do groan,  
That were, when in Flesh, the same Souls as his own.  
You that always in Lucifer's Kitchen reside,  
‛ Monst Sea-Coal, and Kettles, and Grease newly tried:  
That pampered each day with a Garbage of Souls,  
Broil Rashers of Fools for a Breakfast on Coals.  
These Mortals from hence to convey try your skill;  
Thus Fates and our Magical Order fulfil.   Then enter Furies bearing a great Cage, into which they put Don Quixote. Sancho struggles to get off; the Inchantresses wave their Wands, and then there is an Antic Dance of Spirits to fright Sancho, who at last drive him into the Cage by Don Quixote. Vincent. 
You Mortals that have viewed our Magic Skill,  
As you would 'scape our dreadful Charms, be still:  
Whilst we our secret Consultations make,  
None but th' Enchanted must have leave to speak:  
For Sancho's Fault, you all had felt his Case,  
Had you not been relieved by Merlin's Grace. Magicians go aside and Consult.  Don Q. 
You must be Saucy, with a Pox t'ye, and now see what comes on't: Had not Merlin been Gracious, the Queen and all this Company had been Enchanted through your Insolence; you see how narrowly they have 'scap'd.  Sancho. 
I see! 'sbud, why, don't you say I can see nothing? I suppose I am in a Cage now, cooped up like a green Goose with your wise Worship: But to say I see this were Madness, unless I resolve to have my Bones broke.  Don Q. 
A Cage! Oh blind Stupidity! Now will I refer myself to any thing that's Wise, to know if thou dost not deserve to have thy Bones broke, to call th' Enchanted Chariot here a Cage?  Sancho. 
Oh!— so then, this is a Chariot, is it?  Don Q. 
Yes, Rascal, what else can it be? did not the great Merlin call it so?  Sancho. 
Oh, very good— Nay, nay, I suppose it. Shaking his head at Don Q.  Don Q. 
'Tis something odd, I confess: The Knights of old that suffered on these occasions, were carried through the Air in some strange Cloud, or mounted on a flying Hippogryphis:— But perhaps the Method's changed.  Sancho. 
'Tis changed to a very pretty Method, truly:— If any one would see a Raree-Show, let him come hither: Here's the Emperor and the Governor Cheek by Jowl, like two Paraguites hung up in a Hall Window: Lord, if we were in England now, what a World of Fools Six-pences we should get for a sight of us: A Groat to see the Emperor, and twopence the Earl; 'Oons we should put down all the Holiday Monsters clearly.  Don Q. 
Very well, Dogbolt; you are Witty again, are ye? and I suppose, know the Privilege of the place you are in.  Sancho. 
The narrowness of the place I'm in, I suppose I do; 'tis in vain to be angry here, Sir, here's no room for drubbing.  Don Q. 
No, I forgive thee, because I perceive the Enchantment works upon thee; besides the Fable says, That in the Toil, once the Wolf and the Sheep were Friends: Then I know thou art nettled too about the delay of thy Preferment; which troth, as things stand, I must needs say I cannot now prefix a time to.  Sanch. 
Why troth I as faithfully believe ye.  Don Q. 
What grieves me most, is to see the trouble the Queen is in yonder: But, Madam, I beseech ye don't despair, these Accidents are common to Knights Errand; but 'tis only for a time, for I shall soon be free again to aid ye— till when, confirm your hopes in my past promise— She thanks me with a Sign; but the rest, that by thy Fault are now deprived of Speech, by their Actions, Sancho, seem to threaten thee.  Sancho. 
Why, let 'em threaten; if they will help me out of my Enchanted Castle here, I'll give 'em leave to take their Revenge: But a pox on my ill breeding and folly, Old Father Merlin has found another way, and there's no more to be done but Patience, and be wiser another time:— A scalded Cat fears cold Water: If Wishes could bide, than Beggars would Ride: The worth of a thing is best known by its want; and One Nightingale in a Bush, sings better than two jackdaws in a Cage: And so, Sir, let's behold ourselves, as one blind Fool said to t'other.  Don Q. 
Oh Plague! why, thou art in thy Kingdom, I see now; this is the rarest place to string thy Proverbs and thy Flim-flams in; I must get Merlin to Enchant that Tongue of thine a little, I find there will be no peace else.  Music sounds again; the Magician's return; then a Dance of Furies; which ended, they take up the Cage and prepare to go out. Vincent. 
The Hour is come, and all the Sons of Art in Council sit; haste and set forward there.  Enter Hostess and Maritornes. Hostess. 
Why Dolt, Madman, Ass; a Murrain take thee, whither wilt thou let them carry thee— thus like a Fool? ' D'sheartlikins, hast not Brains enough to see 'tis only a Trick upon thee to make thee a— mew— mew— Mews like a Cat, when Vincent waves his Rod.  Maritor. 
And you, Jolt-head Governor, don't you know a Proverb, that says, Bray a Fool in a Mortar, and you'll find all of him but his Brains. Where the Devil are you riding like a— who, who, who, who— Shrieks like an Owl.  Don Q. 
Alas, sweet Ladies, I pity ye, I see you feel my Fate, but cannot help me. 
Till Merlin does ordain I shall be freed,  
Valour's in Bonds, and Chivalry lies dead.   Sancho. 
Earl Sancho is caged, past all relief, Not like a Governor, but like a Thief. They are carried off.  Don Fern. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— rarely performed of all Hands: Gramercy mine Host, thou hast acted thy Part like any Comedian.  Vincent. 
Ah, to divert your Lordship and the good Company here, I could do twice as much as this is.  Perez. 
There was no way to get him home but this, which has been excellently well-humoured on all sides.  Lucind. 
The Princess Micomicona deserves a real Kingdom for the Wit she has shown in't.  Carden. 
She has indeed done it to a Miracle; and managed, not only the Action, but the Romantic Style so naturally, that a wiser Head than Don Quixotes might have been deceived.  Doroth. 
Not unless he had some Sparks of his Frenzy. But what pleases me most is Sancho, who is every foot at a loss, whether he shall be a Governor or nothing.  Fernand. 
Ha, ha, ha,— Come now, let's go dine, and laugh an Hour away about it within.  Nicho. 
Ay, ay, a Jest sounds always most merrily at a good Dinner, my Lord; and to say the truth, the Squire of the Beard has been enchanted so long, that he begins to be hungry.  Fern. 
Oh, thy Mirth shall begin presently then; were thy Hunger as sharp as one of thy one Razors it should be blunted— Come▪ mine Hostess too, and little Maritornes— y' have all done admirably▪ Oh, how every little Subject pleases us, when Love has tuned our Souls by his sweet. Harmony! Now, Embracing Dorothea. my dear Friend, I hope your Joys are perfect too. To Cardenio.  Carden. 
In my Lucinda's Love, mine are as perfect as Heaven has Power to make 'em.  Lucind. 
And mine in meeting with my dear Cardenio.  Doroth. 
And let each kind, too late repenting, Maid,  
That fears she's by inconstant Man betrayed,  
Yet by peculiar Fate, and Grace Divine,  
At last retrieves her Lover— guess at mine.  Exeunt omnes. 
FINIS.     

THE Comical History OF Don QUIXOTE, As it is Acted at the Queen's Theatre in Dorset Garden.  
By Their Majesty's Servants.  
Part the Second.  
Written by Mr. D'urfey.  
LONDON, Printed for S. Briscoe, in Russel-street, Covent Garden, and H. Newman at the Grasshopper in the Poultry, 1694.   

To the Right Honourable Charles Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, Ld. Chamberlain of Their Majesty's Household, and Knight of the most noble Order of the Garter, etc.  
My Lord,  

AS in old times, when Wit had flourished long,  
And Rome was famous for Poetic Song,  
The Learned Bards did round Maecenas throng:  
To him as Wit's Dictator, brought their Store  
And Standard, that best tried the Muses Ore.  
So in our Albion, though her Bards are few,  
Yet each one covets a Dictator too,  
And for Maecenas, fix (my Lord, on you.  
You, like the famous Indian Gourd, are set,  
Under whose shade, sits cool each pigmy Wit,  
Free from the railing Critics blasting heat.  
Let the rich Spring flow clear or be impure,  
Fenced with your Name, the Poet is secure:  
Your Wit's a Sanctuary, where each one  
Is safe, that wisely does for refuge run.  
The roving Icarus in Poetry,  
By you is leveled, when he soars too-high.  
By Judgements Rules and awful Sense reclaimed,  
The wild Hig●flyer is to Nature tamed:  
Nor does the grovelling Muse crawl off ashamed:  
But by your mild reproof his faults discern;  
Made fit for Fame, if not to proud to learn.  
Each Genius still is by your candour prized  
The Great not flattered, nor the Less despised.  
For as great Maro, Naso, Flaccus, may  
In your indulgent beams with freedom play;  
So Bavius too, and Maevius uncontrolled,  
May busk about— and graced with smiles, be bold.  
Oh boundless Glory! yet for ease too great,  
Anxious, though praised, and restless in its State:  
Wit's fate▪ and that of Soveraignty's the same,  
Both sit high crowned, both plagued by too much fame  
As Courtiers for Preferment teazing come,  
And at the Levee throng a Monarch's Room.  
So when Apollo Crowns a darling Son,  
Thelesser Tribe will all be pushing on,  
To get a Scien of his sacred Bays,  
To plant their Credit in succeeding Days.  
Thus your Renown— your Trouble does increase;  
Less great (my Lord) you had been more at ease.  
Like Hero's, that to War unsummon'd come;  
If less courageous, had been safe at home.  
A common Fate best suits with common Clay,  
Stamped off in haste upon the first Essay,  
But Poets are not products of a Day.  
King's Reign by Conquest, Choice or Right of Birth;  
Soldiers get Fame— and Grandees share the Earth.  
But Wil's a prize so rare, there scarce appears,  
One mighty Dorset in a Thousand Years:  
And then too, Heaven that knows the Gift is great,  
Thinks one enough to honour a whole state.  
Thus are the two great Blessings, Wit and Love,  
Kept (●s sublimest) with most care above.  
Heaven grants us sparingly of both a taste,  
One rarely found, and t'other not too last;  
Lest the weak Mortal, in his ecstasy,  
Like the first Man, may know too much and die:  
Yet has this nice forbidden fruit, which Heaven  
From Millions keeps, to you been frankly given.  
You have (my Lord) a Parent from above,  
And can monopolise both Wit and Love;  
Inspired and blessed, by Heaven's peculiar care,  
Adored by all the Wife, and all the Fair;  
To whom the World united give this due,  
Best judge of Men, and best of Poets too.   

Please to permit me then, as all the rest  
Of Moses Sons already have addressed;  
Thus, for your Patronage, to make appeal  
The last Attending, but the first in Zeal.  
Let but this Play the usual Grace receive,  
And if your generous breath says— Let it live,  
Don Quixot then, is fixed in deathless Glory,  
And Sancho, on the Stage is famous as in story.   
Which is, My Lord, The humble Suit of Your Lordship's most obliged and eternally devoted Servant,   

THE PREFACE.  
THE good success, which both the Parts of Don Quixote have had, either from their Natural Merit, or the Indulgence of my Friends, or both, ought sufficiently to satisfy me, that I have no reason to value the little Malice of some weak Heads, that make it their business to be simply Criticising.  
I will therefore desist from any Answer in that kind, and wholly rely upon, and please myself, with the good Opinion and kind Censure of the judicious, who unanimously declare, that I have not lessened myself in the great undertaking, of drawing two Plays out of that ingenious History, in which if I had flagged either in Style or Character, it must have been very obvious to all Eyes; but on the contrary, I have had the honour to have it judged that I have done both Don Quixote and Sancho justice, making as good a Copy of the first as possible, and furnishing the last with newer and better Proveabs' of my own than he before diverted ye with.  
Besides, I think I have given some additional Diversion in the continuance of the Character of Marcelia, which is wholly new in this Part, and my own Invention; the design finishing with more pleasure to the Audience by punishing that coy Creature by an extravagant Passion here, that was so inexorable and cruel in the first Part, and ending with a Song so incomparably well sung, and acted by Mrs. Bracegirdle, that the most envious do allow, as well as the most ingenious affirm, that 'tis the best of that kind ever done before.  
Then I must tell my severe Censurers, who will be spitting their Venom against me though to no purpose, that I deserve some acknowledment for drawing the Character of Mary the Buxom, which was entirely my own, and which I was not obliged to the History at all for, there being no mention of her there, but that Sanchica, which was her right name, was found washing in a River by the Duke's Page, and leapt up behind him on Horseback to guide him to carry her Father's Letter to her Mother; yet by making the Character humorous, and the extraordinary well acting of Mrs. Verbruggen, it is by the best judges allowed to be a Masterpiece of humour.  
The rest of the Characters in both the Parts were likewise extreamwell performed, in which I had as much justice done me as I could expect, nor was the Musical Part less commendable, the Words every where being the best of mine in that kind, and if in the whole, they could draw such Audiences for so long time, in such violent hot Wether, I shall not despair, that when the Season is more temperate, to see at their next representation, a great deal of good Company.  
I have Printed some Scenes both in the first and second part which were left out in the Acting— the Play and the Music being too long; and I doubt not but they will divert in the reading, because very proper for the Connexion: And as I have in this, and in all my things, studied to promote the Pleasure and Satisfaction of my Friend; so I am very well satisfied, to find by my profit, that I have not lost my Labour.   

PROLOGUE For Mr. Powel.  
THis Sou●lry season which was wont to clear  
The Town, of all the friends we held most dear,  
Believe we are very glad to see you here▪  
The Wits that now defy their God the Sun,  
(Proof 'gainst his beams) to see Don Quixote run,  
Such miracles have he and comic Sancho done  
Faith since good Nature did your Hearts inspire  
To use us kindly once don't let it tire;  
But let our second Merry Scenes be graced  
With your united praise, as were our last.  
If you object the weather is too hot,  
The World is in a Ferment, think of that:  
Heroes abroad sweat for the glorious day,  
And I am sure you cannot choose but say,  
That 'tis much safer sweating at a Play:  
For in the main, vast difference will appear,  
Twixt those that sweat for pleasure or for fear.  
Well, then 'tis time to doubt ye were unjust,  
Since you have been so civil to our first;  
For those abroad as well as here at home,  
To see our last, we thank 'em, all have come;  
Some to oblige us, from the Both have stayed,  
Th' unteeming Wife, and the Green sickness Maid,  
Such Sport has been, it seems, in what we played.  
From Richmond some, where crowds of Beauty dwell;  
Nay th' Cits have left their darling Epsom Well,  
And jogged from them to us like honest Men,  
Upon their trotting Pads of Three Pound Ten:  
Then, we have had some of the Blackcoats too,  
Men skilled in Books, that our Don Quixote knew,  
That fearing to be found out at a Play,  
Sat in the Pit, in Coats of Iron gray.  
In short, 'tis plain, we all degrees have had,  
Their Money too— for which we are not sad;  
And if you please to favour us once more,  
T' encourage ye, the Poet just now swore,  
This is a better play than that before.   

EPILOGUE,  By Sancho and Mary the Buxom. Sancho. 
COme, prithee, Marry, though our Case be bad  
Let's make the best on't— humour thy Old Dad,  
And speak to th' Folk.  Mary. 
I cod, I think y' are mad.  
What would you have me say?  San. 
Why tell 'em that  
Tho th' plaguy Poet makes us lose our State,  
And doff our Robes that made us look so gay,  
That thou wilt serve 'em in some other way,  
Provided they'll be civil to the Play.  Mary. 
What other way Zooks can I serve 'em in,  
Unless they have any Lockram Smocks to spin;  
Will these, dee think, prefer a Country Tool  
In Serge and Dowlas— Vather you're a Fool:  
For ought I see amongst this long nosed Crew,  
They'd rather wear out Smocks, than pay me to make new  
These Love your Flaunters, tricked in huge Commode,  
Sprunt up with Wire and Ribbons a Cartload:  
Lord! how each Courtier-man would scowl at's Wife,  
Dizzened as I'm now here in aCoif,  
Gadslids your Top high Flyers of the Town,  
Now, scarce wear any thing that is their own;  
One has false Teeth, another has false Hair,  
One has an Eyebrow made, fewer bare:  
Some flabby, lank, unwholesome, barren Fillies,  
Stuff Cushions up, to counterfeit great Bellies,  
And others, that they may look round as Drums  
Dress t' other place, and wear 'em on their Bums.  
These are the Dishes that these Folk esteem,  
A Country Rasher won't go down with them;  
Therefore, for my part, I'll no favour crave,  
I know their humour, and my breath I'll save;  
yet to conclude, I say this of the Play,  
I ●od'tis good, and if they likeed they may.  

The Representers Names, and Characters.  
Duke Ricardo. A Grandee of Spain, Mr. Cibber. Cardenio. A witty young Gentleman, his Companion and Friend, acted by Mr. Bowman. Ambrosio. A young Student of Salamanca, and Kinsman to the Duke, an inveterate enemy to women, ever since his dear Friend Chrisostome died for Love of Marcelia. Acted by Mr. Verbruggen. Don Quixot. A frantic Gentleman of the Mancha, who ran mad with reading Books of Chivalry, and supposes himself a Knight Errand. Acted by Mr. Born. Mannel. Steward to the Duke, a pleasant witty Fellow, who with Pedro and the Page, manages all the designs used in the fooling Don Quixote. Acted by Mr. Powel. Pedro Rezio. A Doctor of Physic, and Assistant to Mannel in fooling Don Quixote. Acted by Mr. Freeman. Bernardo. Chaplain to the Duke— A positive, testy, morose fellow. Acted by Mr. Trefuse. Diego. A rough ill natured vicious fellow, Master of the Duke's Game, and chief Shepherd, in love with Marcelia. Acted by Mr. Harris. Page to the Duke. Another witty young Fellow, and agent in the fooling Don Quixote. Acted by Mr. Lee Sancho Pancha. Squire to Don Quixote, a dull, heavy, Country Booby in appearance, but in discourse, dry, subtle and sharp, a great repeater of Proverbs, which he blunders out upon all occasions, though never so absurd, or far from the purpose. Acted by Mr. Underhil. Taylor, Gadener, Painter, Grazier, Small Man and Woman, Petitioners to the Governor Sancho.  Duchess. A merry facetious Lady, that perpetually diverts herself with the extravagant Follies of Don Quixote and Sancho. Acted by Mrs' Knight. Luscinda. Wife to Cardenio, her Companion. Acted by Mrs. Bowman. Dulcinea del Toboso. Page to the Duke, commanded by him to personate Don Quixotes feigned mistress. Acted by Mr. Lee. Marcelia. A young beautiful Shepherdess of Cordova, extremely coy, and Averse to men at first, but afterwards passionately in Love with Ambrosio. Acted by Mrs. Bracegirdle. Dona Rodriguez. Woman to the Duchess, antiquated, opinionated and impertinent. Acted by Mrs. Kent. Teresa Pancha. Wife to Sancho— a poor clownish Country woman, Acted by Mrs. Lee. Mary. Her Daughter, a ramping ill-bred Dowdy. Mrs. Verbruggen. Ricotta, Flora. Two other Country Lasses. l●chant●rs, Furies, Carver, Cryer, Constable, Watch, Musicians, Singers, Dancers and Attendants.     


ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Enter Ambrosio, Mannel, Pedro. Ambros. 
SO Gentlemen, are all things in order for the Duke's design of entertaining this whimsical Knight Errand?  Man. 
They are Sir, every Servant in the house answers to his Cue as readily as if he had been brought up in a Theatre.  Ped. 
We find no one tardy in the business but Diego the Duke's Master of the Shepherds, who we hear has almost lost his wits for Love; and the Coxcomb grows every day so moped with it, that he neglects all other business.  Ambros. 
There's something in that fellow more than ordinary, a swarth complexion, hot and Saturnine, you had best look to him Master Steward, for I know him to be of a mischievous nature, and not honest. Farewell, I must go seek the Duke, who is gone to the Grove, just by the Park side yonder, to meet Don Quixote, and bring him to his Castle.  Man. 
Have they lodged the Knight then?  Ambros. 
'Twas all the work of the neighbourhood to watch his motion: Sancho we hear was sent of an Errand to Toboso this morning, but about what we know not— and the Knight stays yonder, waiting for his coming— farewell, you had best make haste home before, to get all things in readiness. Exit Ambrosio.  Man. 
I intent it Sir. Come Doctor, we shall have rare sport.  Pedro. 
— 'Sdeath! is't possible the Frenzy should still be so strong upon the Fool: 'tis not above a Month, since a Brother of my Profession, told me that he administered to him at his House, and had great hopes of his Cure.  Man. 
There was such a report indeed. The manner of his ridiculous Enchantment, and bringing home in a Cage too, is very authentic— But Sancho and he one Night, made a shift to give 'em all the slip, and this is now his second Sally.  Pedro. 
Ha, ha, ha— And in good time, he undertakes it to give the Duke and Duchess diversion— Come let's be gone, that I may be ready for my part in the Scene.  Man. 
The Chaplain must not know of it. Exeunt.  Enter Diego Solus. Diego. 
What are their Frolics or their Sports to me, that have a burning Fever in my breast, that hourly consumes me. I know no Master now, but raging Passion, nor own Obedience, but to Love's great power; and my heart's Murderess, the adored Marcelia, whom to enjoy, I'll hazard Credit, Fortune, nay venture at once, my Souls and Body's ruin, and ne'er believe that I can pay too dear. Pulls out a Letter and muses.  Re-enter Ambrosio. Ambros. 
I've r●iss'd the Duke and Duchess strangely, who I believe, are gone the left hand way over the Pattock,— How now, who have we here, Diego the chief Shepherd,— This is the loving Fool they lately talked of. I'll stay a little to observe him. Absconds behind.  Diego. 
This Letter here, shows me the road to happiness, which is just sent me from a trusty friend that I employed to watch her Evening Haunts, and now 'tis done effectually— Reads.  
Know she's the proudest of her Sex, as well as the most beautiful, and therefore shuns all Conversation with ours, and generally with her own; therefore to indulge her humour, I have observed her several evenings together to walk alone exactly about seven in the Myrtle Grove, that joins to the Ambassadors Garden, where at the aforesaid hour, you may securely seize her. I would assist ye, but the Ambassador is this minute sent for to Court— But at my return, I expect the pleasure, to hear that you are revenged upon that proud Beauty, that so long has tortured ye— the account of which Action will give a secret pleasure, to your faithful Friend, etc.  Diego. 
The Action— Oh how my heart leaps in my breast to think on't! Remorse avaunt, I am resolved this Evening to force the scornful Fair to quench my flame, and glut my love with the sweet Spoils of Beauty— Exit. Diego.  Ambros. 
Here's a pretty business going forward; why what a damned Wolf or satire of a Fellow, have I discovered here among the Sheep-coats— In Love, did they say?— ay, this is the very Devil of a Lover, a most admirable Monster to justify my quarrel to ' the Sex: this sort of Coridon's now, would fit the Female Devillings. Damn 'em 'llle take no notice on't; no usage can be bad enough for 'em,— But hold, is that resolution like a Gentleman? does it consist with honour? Pox on't, would chance had never led my feet this way. Now I'm a greater Villain than the Ravisher, if I permit the mischief. 'Tis so, and I must prevent it. 
In spite of Rancour she shall succour find,  
I'll save her honour, though I hate her kind.  Exit.  Enter Don Quixot solus. Don. Q. 
Oh that I had, as once young Phaeton, the rule of the bright Chariot of the Sun, that I might whip the Hours into more speed, or for a minute could disarm the Furies, to give one good smart lash to ●agging Sancho, whom I this morning sent, with a Love Message, to my Adored and Charming Dulcinea. Post on ye sluggish Minutes, run dull Squire, and let thy Thoughts inform thy heavy Heels, the longings of my Soul: In the mean time, here in this Grotto, rest thou load of Love, think on thy lovely Charmer, and let thy amorous Soul, send forth no other sound but Dulcinea, oh Dulcinea. Exit.  Enter Sancho. Sanc. 
Yonder he lies, and as melancholy as a Cat in a Church Steeple, expecting my return,— and now good Brother Sancho— be pleased to go on with your design, and since you done't like the Message you are sent about, let's see how your Wit can bring you off— let me see, your maggot pated Master Don Quixot sends you to Toboso, to the Princess Dulcinea— very good— Did you ever hear of any such Princess Sancho?— no— or has your Master ever seen such?— neither,— why then your errand appears to be but a kind of mad whimsy Sancho— no doubt on't— well then, what remedy?— why thus Brother— if your Master can fancy Princesses, where none ere were— Windmills to be Giants, and flocks of Sheep, Armies— and say every foot that his sight is beguiled by Enchantments— 'twill be as easy for you to take the next Comer Sancho— and perswadehim to believe 'tis the radiant Dulcinea.  Enter two Country Wenches. 1. C. W. 
Come Cousin Ricotta, prithee come along; Udsliflikins, I'll be hanged if the Bride b'ant gone to Church, before we can get thither.  2. C. W. 
Why prithee how can that be fool, when Father Iodolet the Priest, and Gasper the Piper, are just gone before us.  1. C. W. 
Pshaw that's all one, the holy Cormorant has been at Breakfast already, he has devoured half a Turkey, and drank a Bottle of Malaga,— this Morning, so that he has nothing to do till Dinner, but to chop up Mass, and see 'em joined according to custom.  2. C. W. 
He see 'em joined according to custom, why how now you plaguy Hoyden you,— dee make a pimp of the Priest.  Sanc. 
Why how now you young pert baggage, a pimp of a Priest, why is that such a miracle. This comes as pat as I could wish, these are two rare Jades for my purpose. Aside.  2. C. W. 
What ails the Slouch, can't you go on your way, I spoke to my Cousin Flora, I did not meddle with you swagbelly.  Sanc. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, it shall be so faith, this shall be the Princess Dulcinea Gadzookes,— and this other Dowdy here, shall be her waiting woman— ha, ha, ha. Sancho stops 'em.  1. C. W. 
What's the matter with the Paunch, what ails the bristle chops, can't you let us go and be hanged.  Sanc. 
Till my Lord Don Quixot, has kindled his amorous Taper at the Glow-worm Rays, of your Lady the Princess there, not for the world— my dear Lindabrides.  2. C. W. 
What Lady, what Princess? what a Dickins, is the Booby mad?  Sanc. 
Therefore appear, thou mirror of Knight Errantry, thy Queen, here is thy Dulcinea, Moon of thy hopes, North Star of thy desires, shining with all her fiery beams upon thee.  Enter Don Quixote. Don. Q. 
'Twas Sancho's voice,— and see yonder he stands— welcome thou blessed, thou longed for Messenger,— well and what success good Friend, hah! was the God of Love compassionate?  Sanc. 
Success, sbud— kneel, kneel; Sir, oons are you blind, why there she is Sir, the Princess, the Peerless Dulcinea, the grand Toboso, the silver Trumpet of Renown, the fire Arms of Beauty, and the Touchhole of Love, attended by the most beautiful Babberlips of Spain, the lovely— Wiffundera. They kneel.  Don Q. 
Where is the Princess Sancho. Staring about.  1. C. W. 
Ah Devil on ye, what game, what fooleries this? pray let's go will ye.  Sanc. 
Oh Princess and Universal Lady of Toboso, why does not your magnanimous heart relent, seeing the Pillar, and prop of Chivalry prostrate before your sublimated presence: 'Sbud Sir are you dumb?— or are your senses ravished from you, at the beams of those fair Eyes, those luscious Bubbies, and Amber Locks, adorned with Pearl and Diamonds.  Don Q. 
Pearl and Diamonds? Rubs his Eyes.  Sanc. 
'Dsheart, what d'ee lie rubbing your Eyes so for? Why don't you see all this?  Don Q. 
Upon my Knighthood— No.  Sanc. 
The Devil were in ye if you should,— how the clownish Jades stare at one another. Aside.  Don. Q. 
I see no Princess: the objects that present themselves to me, are Faces most uncomely, dost thou see this rare sight, Sancho? Rises up.  Sanc. 
Do I? I think I do, I see the Princess shining with Gold there, like a Sun beam, and the most bright and altified Whiffundera, blazing like a Star of the first Magnitude.  1. C. W. 
Well enough Brewis-belly; Adshdikins leave off your fooling, and let's be gone, or I'll call out to the Vineyard yonder.  2. C. W. 
There be Folks there that will take our parts, you may chance to get a drubbing for your Jokes, if you han't a care, Bacon-face. Exeunt.  Sanc. 
Zooks, Queen Blouze may be in the right in that, therefore I'll make haste.  Don Q. 
If that be the Princess that spoke last, some Devilish Spell this moment is upon me, I am bereaved of all my sight and senses.  Sanc. 
How, how's that Sir? I hope not so— This is what I looked for, ha, ha, ha, ha, the Trick fadges rarely. Aside.  Don Q 
Dost thou smell nothing, Sancho?  Sanc. 
A perfumed sigh or two, the Princess breathed, Sir, nothing else.  Don Q. 
Nay, then 'tis plain I'm enchanted— again, by my Knighthood, It seemed to me of Garlic.  Don Q. 
Garlic! oh Villains, now could I eat one of these Enchanting Rogues. And I warrant the Princess and her Lady, Sir, seems to you like two Hog-rubbing Dowdies?  Don Q. 
Tadpoles! Witches! I have not seen two uglier.  Sanc. 
Good lack a day, that these Devilish fellows can do this!— Keep in your breath, and be hanged. Aside.  2. C. W. 
Keep you off and be hanged. So ho, in the Vineyard there.  1. C. W. 
Pedro, Valasco, Tarzoe, so ho; odslid come near me again— a couple of Cogging Scoffing Gibers, what a Murrain can't you let people go along the Road? did we meddle with you? odslid come near me again, and I'll give thee such a gripe on the Weazon, I'll make thee kackle again. They run out.  Don Q. 
Ugh— where's another whiff, the very— quintessence of Garlic. Oh thou extreme of all wickedness, thou abhorred Enchanter, whoever thou art, think not because thou canst pervert my Smelling faculty, and put these Clouds and Cataracts in my Eyes, to eclipse that dazzling Beauty from me, that it shall serve thy turn; no Miscreant, the time shall come, when by my powerful Arm all Charms shall be dissolved, and this bright Planet, hid by vile Enchantment, shine bright and clear for ever. Is she gone, Sancho?  Sanc. 
Yes Sir, and upon so fast a gallop, that 'tis impossible for Rosinante to overtake her; therefore pray Sir consider the Proverb that says, To ill accidents apply patience; Let every Conscience fit itself to the times; we shall have a smiling minute, when we shall firk these plaguy Enchanters before they are aware: In the mean time be pleased to think of being an Emperor as soon as you can Sir— that I may be a Governor, and raise my Family, for to my thinking I should become governing hugely. Well, and now I talk of governing, yonder comes a company that I think look like Emperors and Governors indeed.  Don. Q. 
Not a word more— I know 'em, 'tis the Great Duke of that noble Seat thou seest there, with his fair Duchess: And I suppose my Fame has reached his Ears; he comes hither now to find me out.  Enter Duke Ricardo, Duchess, Cardenio, Luscinda, Rodriguez and Servants. 
Down swelling griefs a while be hushed and silent, whilst from these great ones I receive that Ceremony my noble Function merits: And d'ee hear Sancho, be sure you behave yourself with that Decorum as suits my Squire, and the place you're in.  Sancho. 
Well, well, Sir, a word to the wise is enough— Manners makes the Man, quoth William of Wickham— Now we are to deal with People that have a scence of governing; I warrant ye let me alone for behaving myself.  Duke, 
Lure off the Hawks, the day's too hot for sport, we'll out again in th' Evening— Most noble Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha— Fortune has now obliged me to my Wishes, thou Quintessence, thou Soul of Arms and Honour, welcome into my Province.  Don Q. 
Your Grace's most devoted, lives no longer, than whilst he is yours in all humble duty.  Duke. 
Illustrious Errand, I am proud to thank ye— Madam that you may know highly Fortune honours me, I am obliged to tell ye this is the Knight of the Ill-favoured face, the shining Sun of Spain, the Mars of Arms and Chivalry, whom I desire you to invite to my Castle, that we may show how we admire such Virtue.  Dutch. 
I am his Greatnesses most humble Servant, and hope he'll so far honour us.  Don Q. 
I kiss your beauteous Hand most excellent Lady, and wholly subject myself to your Commands.  Sanc. 
Subject himself to her Commands,— Gadzooks very pretty, that,— well, this plaguy Devil my Master, has a notable way with him sometimes.  Card. 
We are all— Valiant Sir, your humble Servants and most obliged.  Lusci. 
But most of all our Sex— as to a Champion whose daily Endeavour is to right our wrongs, with Sword and Lance, on Mountain or in Valley, to vindicate the cause of injured Ladies.  Duke. 
And this good Fellow, if I mistake not, must sure be trusty Sancho, the honest Partner of this brave Knights dangers.  Sanc. 
Your Mightiness has hit it to a hair— I am the very Sancho, indeed a Governor elect too, for all I look so▪ and as for dangers, why little said is soon amended, common fame is seldom to blame, but Patience is a plaster for all sores. My master and I have heard Wolves howl at Midnight before now,— we know how an Oaken Cudgel can bruise, and what danger is in cold Iron: we are no Flinchers, we.  Don Q. 
You will forget blunderhead. To Sancho aside. A Clownish Prater, my Lord, I hope your Grace will excuse him. To the Duke.  Duke. 
Oh, Sancho is very pleasant, and his Proverbs become him extremely— Go some of you and bridle this noble Knight's Horse, that I see feeding yonder, and bring him to the Stable; we'll go in the back way over the Garden.  Sanc. 
And pray Mrs. since I see you have nothing else to do, will you be so kind as to go to yonder Hedge, where to Rodrigues. you will find a dapple grey Ass,— tied and do so much as put him up with Rozinante, and pray take what care of him you can, because the poor fool is a little skittish, and I can't wait on him myself, by reason you see me obliged to follow my Master.  Rod. 
How now ignorant Bufflehead, d'ye know who you talk to?  Don Q. 
Oh confound him, did you ever hear such a sordid Son of a Whore? Why thou complicated lump of Dullness, does this good Gentlewoman look like a Groom? Does she seem fit to manage in a Stable, thou incomprehensible Rascal.  Dutch. 
'Twas only a small mistake, Sir Knight, my woman's very good natured, and I know Sancho intended no affront.  Duke. 
No, no, 'twas a civility any one might have begged; besides Dapple may be nearer related to Sancho than we imagine. I have bit my tongue almost through▪ I shall ne'er be able to hold out.  To Cardenio aside. Carden. 
Nor I, I dare not look that way for fear of laughing aloud.  Luscind. 
How Mrs. Rodriguez swells, I warrant she could poison Sancho now with all her Soul, for she knows nothing of the design. To Card.  Rod. 
I shall hardly expose my sense, to resent any thing from such a Rustical Brute; my Breeding and his, I suppose, have been in different stations, therefore the best way of expressing myself about it, is by contempt. I despise the Creature.  Duke. 
Well, well, since you despise him, so let it end then. Come most Heroic, shall I lead the way— My Wife attends your motion. Don Quixote leads out the Duchess.  Don. Q. 
Her Grace extremely honours me— Ha— Dunghill Vermin is this your manners with a Pox t'ee. Aside to Sancho.  Sanc. 
Where the Devil's the harm on't? Gadzooks I thought Waiting Women might have gone into Lords Stables, as well as Footmen into ladies' Bedchambers; hut Live and learn, and be hanged and forget all; there's a good Proverb however. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Bernardo, Mannell, Pedro and Page. Man. 
COme, are the Musicians ready now for the Entertainment, the Duke and Duchess are just at the Gate.  Page. 
They are all tuning their Instruments in the next room.  Man. 
Page, prithee run and tell the Cook and the Confectioner my Lord will have the Banquet after the Music is ended. Exit Page.  Bern. 
And what's all this preparation for I wonder: What silly gambol is going to be played now?  Man. 
And why silly gambol? Lord you are always so peevish Mr. Cuff-cushion, there's no living with ye, any thing that does not suit your grave testy humour is silly presently. Pox methinks you should know your station of being unmannerly a little better, be civil here, and be rude when you get into your Pulpit.  Bern. 
Ah, thou art a pretty fellow to govern a Family with a flashy Head, and a Heart void of Conscience, Morality and Religion. How dar'st thou profane the Pulpit, Reprobate; a Whore were a more natural thing for thee to talk of.  Man. 
Why that's a Pulpit you love to preach in too, as well as I, for all your canting.  Pedro. 
No, you must let him govern every thing, and then Sir gravity will be easy; let but the head Butler be his Croney, and my Ladies pretty Chambermaid sit on his Bedside in a Morning, and mend his Stockings, and then you shall hear him rail no more, nor ever have a Sermon against Drinking or Whoring.  Bern. 
Why thou infect, bred from excrement; thou Quack, with not skill enough to cure a Lap-dog of the Mange? thou venery-promoter, art thou shooting thy Turpentine Pills at me too.  Man. 
Put him but into a fret, and 'twill be better sport, than a Bear-baiting, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Bern. 
Fulsom Idiot, poor wretch.  Man. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— poor Vestry dauber.  Pedro. 
Come, come, prithee,— now let's leave him to chew the Cud upon contemplation— here comes my Lord.  Enter Duke, Cardenio and Page. Duke. 
Is he unarmed?  Page. 
They are doing it my Lord, and treating him in all points, as your Grace has ordered.  Card. 
My Lady Duchess will grow fat with laughing, I never saw her take so much pleasure in any Jest before  Duke. 
Go you and assist in the Ceremony, and be sure To Man. and Pedro. to use him according to the custom of Knight Errants of old, which I have read wi' in books of Chivalry— how now Bernardo, what is your reverend solidity musing on, hah? Exit. Man. and Pedro.  Bern. 
I am musing my Lord, on those books of Chivalry, which I have of late often found you reading, and I profess I wonder that a man of your clear Sense and good parts, should waste your precious time so unprofitably.  Duke. 
Testy Fool, now if I would permit him, would this peevish Blockhead, be impertinent two long hours by the Clock,— Come, come, I'll endure no reproof now; if thou'lt be sociable, and take part of the Music and the Banquet, 'tis well, if not.—  Bern. 
The Music— No, not I, Heaven estrange my ears from hearing such Vanity,— as for the other part, it is my duty to give a Blessing to't, therefore I shall attend. Exit Bern.  Card. 
Ay to the eating part, I warrant thee, if any of thy Tribe are wanting at that I much wonder.  Music sounds, then enter Don Quixote unarmed, with a rich Mantle over him, and led between the Duchess and Luscinda, Sancho following with Rodriguez and Servants, they place Don Quixot in the chief Seat, and all sit down. Duke. 
Long live the Flower of Knight Errantry, the renowned Don Quixote de la Mancha.  Dutch. 
Vivat the Succourer of Widows and Orphans.  Card. 
The Righter of Wrongs, and Retriever of the ancient and most noble Laws of Chivalry.  Luscind. 
The Tamer of Giants, and undaunted Queller of Monsters and Furies.  Duke. 
Let the Sports begin to entertain him, and let no part be wanting to do him honour.  

SONG.  

I.  
IF you will Love me, be free in Expressing it,  
And henceforth give me no Cause to complain;  
Or if you hate me, be plain in Confessing it,  
And in few words put me out of my pain.  
This long decaying, with sighing and praying,  
Breeds only delaying in Life and Amour,  
Cooing and Wooing,  
And daily pursuing,  
Is damned silly doing, therefore I'll give o'er.   

II.  
If you'll propose a kind method of ruling me,  
I may return to my Duty again;  
But if you stick to your old way of Fooling me,  
I must be plain I am none of your Men;  
Passion for passion on each kind occasion,  
With free inclination does kindle Love's Fire,  
But Tedious prating,  
Coy folly debating,  
And now doubts creating, still makes it expire.    

The Lady's Answer.  

I.  
YOU Love, and yet when I ask you to marry me,  
Still have recourse to the tricks of your Art;  
Then like a Fencer you cunningly parry me,  
Yet the same time make a Pass at my Heart.  
Fie, fie, deceiver,  
No longer endeavour,  
Or think this way ever the Fort will be won?  
No fond Caressing  
Must be, nor unlacing,  
Or tender embracing till th' Parson has done.   

II.  
Some say that Marriage a Dog with a Bottle is,  
Pleasing their humours to rail at their Wives;  
Others declare it an Ape with a Rattle is,  
Comforts Destroyer and Plague of their Lives:  
Some are affirming,  
A Trap 'tis for Vermin,  
And yet with the Bait though not Prison agree,  
Venturing that Chouse you,  
Must let me Espouse you  
If e'er, my dear Mouse you will nibble at me.    Here follows an Entertainment of Dancing, than the Banquet is prepared and brought in; the Duke places Don Quixote at the upper end of the Table, but he refuses it. Enter Bernardo and says Grace. Don Quix. 
I do beseech your Grace, I shall die with Blushing▪  Duke. 
The highest merit must have highest place.  Don Quix. 
My Lord, you confound me with excess of favour.  Duke. 
Nay, nay, it must be so, Sir.  They sit, and Sancho waits on Don Quixote. Bern. 
Of my Conscience this is that Scarecrow Knight Errand Don Quixote, that I have heard the Duke talk so often of; oh the whimsical Idiot! Sits at the lower end.  Dutch. 
Indeed, Sir Knight, if I may speak my thoughts, your Modesty is a great deal too nice: You needs must know your place, where'er you are.  Sancho. 
Now have I two Proverbs at my tongue's end, that I'd give half my Government to vent— One is, He that has more manners than he ought, is more a Fool than he thought; and t'other is▪ there is more ado with one Jackanapes, than with all the Bears.  Dutch. 
How now Friend Sancho, what are you muttering, come we must have no wit lost.  Sancho. 
Ah blessing on your Noblenesses prattling place; you're a princely Jewel, I'll say that for ye: And now my Master Don Quixote has put me in the mind on't— I could tell ye a very pretty tale that happened in our Town, concerning places.  Don. Quix. 
You will prate Jolt-head— I beseech your Graces, let this Coxcomb be thrust out, we shall hear a thousand follies else.  Bern. 
By my sincerity these are both crazed alike, and I shall ne'er have patience to hear half their Fooleries.  Duke. 
By no means, my noble Sir, Sancho must needs go on with his tale.  Card. 
Oh we lose our chief diversion else— for his wit and good humour must needs make it very pleasant.  Lusc. 
Therefore begin quickly, honest Friend, for my Lady Duchess and I are impatient till we hear it.  Sancho. 
Why then thus it goes, you must know then, that there was a Gentleman in our Town, nearly related to Don Alonzo de Maranon, Knight of the Order of St. jaques, who was drowned in the Heradura, about whom that quarrel was a little while since in our Town▪ Master mine, pray Sir, were not you in't— Where little Thomas the Madcap. Son to Balvastro the Smith, had a deep wound in the Scrotum as they called it, about the Widow Waggum.  Don Q. 
A plague on thee for a Crust-grinder, dost thou begin a Tale without head or foot, and then ask me a question— Now do I sweat for the Rogue. Aside.  Sancho. 
Well, well, then 'tis no great matter— And so this Gentleman that I told you first of▪ invited a poor Husbandman to Dinner; and so the poor man coming to the Gentleman Inviters House, Heaven 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.  Bern. 
Ay, and prithee come back from reaping quickly, without Burying the Gentleman, unless thou hast a mind to kill us too with expectation.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Don Quix. 
Oh tardy Hellhound, I'm in a Fever for him. Aside.  Sancho. 
ne'er near, Sir, I'll be mannerly. To Don Quixote apart. And so, as I was saying, both being ready to sit down to Table, the poor man contended with the Gentleman not to sit uppermost, and the Gentleman with him that he should, as meaning to command in his own house, but still the Country Booby pretending to be mannerly and courteous, would not; till the Gentleman very angry, thrusting him down, said to him, sit there you Thrasher, for wherever I sit with thee shall still be the upper end: and now you have my tale forsooth, and I hope pretty well to the purpose. Don Quixote frowns on Sancho.  Omnes. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Duke. 
A very admirable tale and quantity delivered, ha, ha, ha.  Dutch. 
Poor Sancho will say for this anon; the Knight looks very angry, I'll try to divert it— My Lord, Don Quixote, I beseech ye, if my request be not improper, how fares the gracious Dulcinea deal Toboso,— and what Giants, Bugbears and Captives have you sent her lately.  Don Q. 
How could I mumble that Dog, if I had him in a corner. Aside.  Sancho 
What a plague's the matter, I've said something amiss now I see by's look.  Don Q. 
Ah Madam, there you divide my heart in sunder, the beauteous Dulcinea is enchanted.  Dutch. 
Is't possible!  Bern. 
Ye Crack brained Idiot, I profess I can bear no longer. Fie, fie, my Lord and Madam, what d'ee mean— I vow your Graces are much to blame t' indulge the Frenzy of this Lunatic.  Don Q. 
How? What's that Sir, Lunatic?  Carden. 
Now comes the sport.  Lusc. 
The Priest has smothered his testy humour till he's black in the face.  Bern. 
Who thrust it into your brains Don Quixote, or Don Coxcomb, that you are a Knight Errand, with a murrain tee, and that you can kill Giants, Monsters, Bugbears— Or know of any Princess that's enchanted? Is not this Spain, incorrigible Dull pate? What Errants are 〈◊〉 here? Or what use of'em, hah?  Don. Q. 
Oh monstrous! Oh thou old black Fox with a Firebrand in thy tail thou very Priest, thou Kindler of all Mischiefs in all Nations, d'ee hear, Homily, did not the Reverence that I bear these Nobles bind my just rage, I would so thrum your Cassock, you Church Vermin.  Bern. 
I profess, I have a great mind to strip, I have much ado to forbear— but hold, I will not shame my Coat— I will absent me prudently— Well, Madman, passion is an ill arguer, some other time we will dispute this point— Till when farewell— Addle pate.  Don Q. 
Adieu Scriptures groper. Exit Bernardo.  Duke 
A waspish strange old Fool: I hope, Sir, you take no offence.  Don Q. 
None, none, my Lord, upon my Honour, Women and Priests may say any thing.  Duke. 
He shall beg your pardon▪ hay Page, bid the Chaplain wait me in the Park. Exit Page.  Dutch. 
Come will you retire, Sir, for an hour, and then we'll divert you abroad with Hawking.  Don. Q. 
I am your Graces ever. Exit leading the Duchess.  Sancho. 
I am glad of this; that Black Coat's prating has made him forget me.  Carden. 
Come, my Dear, le's follow and laugh.  
This but begins the Farce which yet we see:  Lusc. 
— Where these Fools are, there must Diversion be. Exeunt.    

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  Enter Diego disguised, pulling in Marcelia. Marcel. 
HElp, help, for Heaven's sake help.  Diego. 
You call in vain, nothing can help you now but fair compliance.  Marcel. 
Help, help— is no blessed charitable creature near, to help a Maid in her distress?  Diego. 
Yes I.  Marcel. 
Thou art a Devil.  Diego. 
So, my Dear, art thou, a very Devil, and the Hell I've suffered, through thy nice Female Pride and Obstinacy, is greater than the Damned below endure; but I am now grown a profound Magician, and I can conjure that proud Daemon from thee, that late insulted o'er all human kind. You now must love, Marcelia.  Marcel. 
Cursed sound, and now more cursed than ever, coming from the mouth of such a Fury.  Diego. 
Ay, this is well now— I am pleased to see that Lucifer keeps his old station in your proud heart; my Spell will work the better. Mildness perhaps had wrought me to a stile of whining Love, to court and sue for favour, look like a Fool, be modest, cringe and bow, lie like a Chambermaid, and at last get nothing, but You're an Ill-favoured Monster, and I scorn ye.  Marcel. 
No succour yet! no kind relieving Passenger!  Diego. 
But now you show your Sex in their true quality you more oblige me; I now can bluntly seize thee without wooing, and like a man claim Beauty as my due, pattern the noble Savages of old, when Woman, like the rest of other Females, patiently couched under the Male Prodominance; and since you are obstinate and stubborn, instruct the rest of men by my example.  Marcel. 
What dost thou propose, oh, thou most abhorred?  Diego. 
To make a Convert of thee— What a strange, coy, wild, impertinent, unnatural thing hast thou been hitherto, thou wo●est thy Eyes as if thou wert a Basilisk, destroying others, still to please thyself; thou taughtst thy tongue to murder all thy Lovers by proud refusals— thy hands to tear their Letters, and thy feet to run away like an ungrateful Daphne, though an Apollo followed.  Marcel. 
'Tis my nature, born for myself; all men are my aversion.  Diego. 
Then know, that I was born to new create thee; I will not have those Beauties lost through Pride, which Nature first intended for Enjoyment; your Eyes shall learn to smile, your Lips to kiss, your Tongue to praise your Lover; Arms t' embrace him: I'll mould your body to a proper form, make every part about you do its office, and fit ye for the business of the world.  Marcel. 
The Devil shall have you first.  Diego. 
The Devil shall have me after, Child, as he and I agree upon't; but before hand I'll beg his Devilships pardon.  Marcel. 
Oh, how I hate this fellow! What a rage I feel within my bosom glow against him? What! Shall I sue to any man for favour; I that have through the series of past years, made 'em the business of my jest and raillery? Shall I submit and beg? I'll rather die first.  Diego. 
I can but think how much the case is altered; how many tedious hours with downcast Eyes, pale Cheeks, a throbbing Heart, and Arms across, have I watched a kind look of this Calisto, who now I can command— Come will you be kind and freely.  Marcel. 
If, (as the word has always been a stranger to me, when it related to thy Sex) if I would be kind, canst thou believe, oh thou foul Criminal, such words as these could win me!  Diego. 
Oons I have no Compliments; all women have been spoiled since men first used 'em. Kiss and Consent at first begot the joy; '●was Sighs and shinings bred the Pish and Fie— I will be fooled no longer. Strikes him.  Marcel. 
Stand off rude Hellhound, I yet have some defence; when Innocence fights, each Pin, each little Bodkin, will prove a Lance to wound the cursed Assailer! Oh, thou most vile of Creatures that is, (thou man) dost thou believe I wi● yield tamely to thee? No, I will make each Nail an Eagles Talon, my Teeth shall 〈◊〉 thy Flesh, my Eyes shall blast thee; and in this noble Cause, this little Arm, in my defence, be like the Club of Hercules, thou worst of all Male Devils, Ravisher.—  Diego. 
Oh, I shall cool your Courage. Goes to seize her.  Enter Ambrosio. Ambrosio confronts him. Ambr. 
And I yours Sir, I must make bold to interrupt your sport a little, the Duke shall have no Satyrs in his Family. Come, come, Sir, deliver me your Sword.  Diego. 
My Sword? It must be this way then: I'm upon the forlorn hope, and so have at ye, Sir, Fight and Ambrosio disarms him.  Marcel. 
Ambrosio! Heavens! Is't he ay am obliged to for this Succour! The Man of all the World I've lest deserved from— I'm so confounded with shame I cannot look on him. Aside.  Ambr. 
Now Villain, you shall obey in spite of ye; but more of that presently, first let's see the Woman— Ha, Marcelia! Oh blind, blind Chance, Oh ill contriving Fortune, thou knowest I hate the cursed Cleft Tribe in general; and couldst thou 'mongst the rout of female mischiefs, find me no other to oblige but this! This worst of all the Sex! This damning Eve, with not one only, but Legion of Serpents round her!  Marcel. 
What do I feel! His words shoot through my heart, as if 'twere wounded with a Sheaf of Arrows; I am not angry neither to hear him rail, but changed so, that methinks I could hear more.  Ambr. 
Oh thou dear Manes of my brave Friend Chrisostome, art thou not angry with thy poor Ambrosio whose ill placed stars maliciously compel him to vindicate the honour of thy Murderess?  Marcel. 
Since the good deed y' have done, 'cause 'twas for me▪ so much offends your thoughts, oblige us both, and kill me; for I can bear death better than your words. Kill me, and I am then out of your debt, and you revenged for Chrisostome.  Ambr. 
No, live however, and (if a woman can) repent; for 'twe're damnation certain, now to kill thee; live therefore, but let me see those baneful Eyes no more; lock from henceforth those Ignes Fatui up, that lead men wandering into Bogs and Ditches; veil 'em I say, that I again may never be troubled to defend your caterwauling; a creature that can purr, and then can squeak, that scratching can repulse the eager Lover, and yet be prompt and willing to ingender: Away, there's counsel for ye. Come, Sir, now march before me; something remains for you too— go on.  Diego. 
Had I but done the deed I had not cared. Exeunt.  Manet Marcelia. Marcel. 
Yet thou art brave: Oh Heaven what shall I do to pay the Debt of Gratitude I owe thee; what a forlorn and miserable Wretch had I been but for thee! Oh I am lost! What Beauty, Riches or the Gloss of Honour, with all th' allurements never could subdue, is conquered by this great, this generous Action: My Heart is melting, and a new strange passion fills all my bosom, that firm resolute will, that stood unshocked to the deserts of Chrisostome, is wholly Captive to the brave Ambrosio. In vain is Art or Obstinacy now. 
In vain does weakened Force resist the stronger;  
The Fort's o're-pow'red, and can hold out no longer.  Exit.   

SCENE II.  Enter Duke, Cardenio and Mannel. Duke. 
Is the Doctor ready with his disguise for Merlin.  Man. 
He has been dressed this hour my Lord; the Page too is perfect in his part of Dulcinea; we only wait my Lady Duchesses coming back, who is gone after the Hawk the back side of the Wood— And then we shall begin the Comedy.  Carden. 
The Knight and the Parson are still in hot argument yonder; the Cassock and the Helmet are at mortal odds; the Church Militant scorns to truckle to the Camp, he'll not ask him pardon, he says, though all the Knights of the Round Table were by to back him.  Duke. 
I took this opportunity of slipping from 'em, to take-breath a little, and laugh by myself— See here they come, away Mannel to your Fellows, and as soon as ever it begins to be dark do as I've ordered.  Man. 
We'll be punctual as the minute, my Lord.  Enter Don Quixote and Bernardo. Duke. 
Well, Chaplain, is the business reconciled; have you done Justice to this noble Knight?  Bern. 
I profess, I think I have, I have told him plainly he is a Madman, and have conscientiously proposed to him a certain remedy  Don Q. 
I have not told you yet, that a Clergyman may be a Blockhead, though I may suppose it, only to show the different manners betwixt my Function and yours.  Carden. 
Nay, if the Sword and the Gown can agree no better, we are like to see but an ill Reformation.  Duke. 
Once more, I say, ask him pardon Bernardo.  Bern. 
For what my Lord, I profess, I begin to fear, he has infected your Grace with his own distemper.  Duke. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— He'll call me Fool presently.  Been. 
For me that have swallowed and digested Sciences, as common as Loins of Mutton, to affront Learning so vilely, to compare with one that's ignorant of all— A downright Madman.  Don Q. 
Good words, Priest, good words, did Religion teach you to be rude, Sir Cassock? Besides▪ to show I am not so ignorant, as you'd make me, know I have learned the Sciences— and made addition to excel your Gown by one much better than the rest, Knight Errantry.  Bern. 
That a Science, oh ridiculous, ●harkee; prithee prepare thy brains a little, to answer me one question.  Duke. 
Ay, now they buckle to't.  Bern. 
What's a Knight Errand good for?  Don Q. 
Every thing: He that is honoured with that Function understands a Science that contains in't all the rest, which thus I make appear. First, He must be skilled in the Law, to know Justice distributive and commutative, to do right to every one: He must be a Divine, to know how to give a reason clearly of his Christian Profession: He must be a Physician, and chiefly an Herbalist, to know in a Wilderness or desert, what Herbs have virtue to cure Wounds; for your Knight Errand must not be looking out every pissing while for a Surgeon to heal him: He must be an Astronomer, to know in the night what a Clock 'tis by the Stars: He must be also a Mathematician, and principally a good Cook, because it may very often happen, he may have occasion to dress his own Dinner. Nor should he only be adorned with all divine and moral virtues, but he must descend to Machanicks also; for he must know how to show a Horse, to mend a Saddle, to sole a Boo●, to dern a Stocking, to stitch a Doublet; and in short, to do all things that reason can imagine. And all these things, and as many more, is your Knight Errand good for.  Card. 
What say to this, my good Divinity Teacher; methinks the Knight has given ye a very fair account of his Function.  Don Q. 
And now I have answered his question, I think 'tis but reasonable to ask him one: I demand of hi●●hen, and put it fairly to his Conscience, I say, I desire to know of him— What a Chaplain's good for?  Duke. 
By my troth a shrewd question.  Card. 
And put home too, as the case now stands.  Bern. 
Oh sinful Caitiff, is that a question to be asked in these religious times: Come, come, I'll tell thee that presently— Humh, good for? Why in the first place, let me see, What's a Chaplain good for? Oh, now I have it; why all the serious part of the world must allow that. They laugh Humh— What's a Chaplain good for? Well, I profess I was ne'er so puzzled in all my life.  Chaplain offers to speak, and they hinder him. Carden. 
Ay, 'tis plain now, the cause is lost, the Chaplain's confounded, he has not a word to say for himself, ha, ha, ha.  Duke. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, Eagerness and Rage have so choked him, he has no utterance— Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Bern. 
What am I become a jest, fie my Lord, where is the decency, where is the sagacity! Oh strange this is very unseemly— And I'll be gone lest choler arise, and I exceed the bounds of discretion: Oh, my Lord this is very unseemly. Exit.  Duke. 
Now will he be musty this month, and we shan't get a word from him.  Don Q. 
Ha, what dreadful sounds are these. Horrid Sounds are heard within.  Card. 
Most wonderful! A Noise like a Woman's Shrieks.  Duke. 
Oh yonder are the Lights, I see they are coming. To Card.  Don Q. 
That last to me seemed like the cry of women, this may be some Adventure worth my notice.  Enter Duchess, Luscinda, Rodriguez, and Sancho, as frighted. Dutch. 
Oh save me, my Lord, save me.  Duke. 
How now, for Heaven's sake what's the matter! Embr. her.  Lusc. 
The Wood's all in a Flame, a thousand Spirits are in't, and all coming this way, oh— What will become of us?  Rodr. 
One of 'em made me shriek so loud with a fright, that I'm sure I could not be louder, if I were to be ravished.  Sancho. 
All Hell is broke loose yonder! There are Devils a foot, and Devils in Coaches, and Devils of all sorts, shapes and sizes, oh! Where's this plaguy Chaplain now; I never had such a mind to pray in my life? Fly, fly, good Sir, oh gadzooks, they'll be here in a twinkling.  Don Q. 
Why let 'em come, stand by me and fear nothing.  Horrid noise again. Duke. 
This is something more than natural, and I confess amazes me.  Enter Mannel disguised like a Devil, blowing a Horn. Lusc. 
Save us ye powers— What horrid thing is this?  Duke. 
I'll speak to't, for by Don Quixotes side, how terrible soe'er it be I cannot fear, speak thou frightful Vision— What art thou—  Man. 
I am a Devil.  Duke. 
Lucifer?  Man. 
No, his Butler; I fill up molten Lead in Cups of Agate to all the Wretches that are damned for drinking.  Card. 
What dost thou from thy Office then, and whither art thou going?  Man. 
My Master now has lent me out to Merlin, Prince of the Enchanters, who is coming yonder, bringing the Princess Dulcinea del Toboso with him enchanted, and I am sent before to seek a famous Knight they call Don Quixote de la Mancha, to tell him how the Princess may be freed.  Don Q. 
If thou wert a Devil of Parts and Understanding, thou wouldst have known without my information, that I am Don Quixote.  Man. 
By my Conscience and Soul, Sir, I think you are, and I beg your Pardon with all my heart, but I was so busied in my several cogitations, that I forgot the chief, as I hope to be saved.  Sancho. 
Gadzooks, I am not half so much afraid now as I was, this Devil seems to be a very honest fellow, and I'll warrant him a good Christian, because he swears by his Soul and Conscience; but yet he makes me laugh to talk of Dulcinea's Enchantment, ha, ha, ha— Mum for that, I'm sure I know the trick of that better than any Devil of 'em all. Aside.  Man. 
Prepare thyself therefore, oh most renowned, for here they come, clear, clear thy Eyes from dust, and pick thy ears, that thou may'st take the secrets with attention; nor be thou daunted; for Merlin holds thee well— I can no more, the rest himself will tell.  Exit blowing his Horn. Don. Q. 
I see impertinence is a vice amongst those in the other world as well as this, this foolish Spirit might have spared his bidding me not be daunted, if he had known how to manage a Speech wisely.  Duke. 
The Butler was in the right, Sir, here comes more of the Devils Officers.  Don Q. 
Let him send all his Family, my Lord, I know how to answer 'em, I'll warrant ye—  Music sounds, and then a Dance of Spirits is performed, which ended the Scene opens, and discovers Pedro dressed like Merlin, and Page like Dulcinea, sitting in a Chariot. Pedro. 
I come, O valiant Knight, to let the see, though all the rest of sage Enchanters hate thee, that Merlin is thy Friend; here is thy Mistress enchanted to a soul rude Country Dowdy by the malice of thy cruel Foe Lyrgander, and if thou seest her now beauteous as formerly, 'tis through my present grace, and to move pity in those that are concerned to disenchant her, for she must turn to her vile shape again till the cursed Spell be ended, which to perform observe my words with care, and listen to what the destinies ordain.  Don Q. 
Most reverently, and in all humble duty, I thank the gracious Merlin for his Clemency.  Sancho. 
What a plague have I been in a dream then all this while; and when I thought I had fooled others, am I a Fool myself, and is she really enchanted after all.  Dutch. 
Now is Sancho at his wits end to know, whither he may believe his Eyes and Ears, or no.  Luscin. 
But his Master there is wholly transported, the Lady Dulcinea's fair eyes have enchanted him more than she is by the Magician Lyrgander, ha, ha, ha.  Card. 
Softly, sweet Love, they'll hear ye.  Sancho. 
Why a man shan't be sure, that he has his own Nose on at this rate; I would have laid my Earldom that I am to have to a Cucumber, that I had enchanted her myself, and now Mr. Merlin there makes it out, that it was done before▪ Gadzooks I believe we are and enchanted, and Swarms of Devils like Gnats and Fly's are buzzing in every corner.  Don Q. 
Peace Babbler, eternal Mill-Clack, let your Clapper lie still a while, that the great Merlin may unfold himself.  Duke. 
We have had the Prologue to't already, he has stroked his Beard three times— now one good sound hem— and we have it. 
Pedro▪ speaking with a grave and loud voice. If Dulcinea, from an ugly Creature,  
Would be transformed to this her former feature,  
The Powers, who now her Beauty do retain,  
To free her from the Curse, do thus ordain;  
That Sancho shall three thousand Lashes give  
Sancho starts, and looks dismayed. Himself; and them on Buttocks bore receive:  
This done, from her Enchantment shall relieve her;  
But not performed, she shall be charmed for ever.   Don Q. 
A thousand Blessings fall on Merlin's Tongue, that like an Oracle has now delivered these happy sounds— Oh Sancho, Brother Sancho, or how shall I style thee, to express myself more tenderly; my Son, my Friend, how am I overjoyed to know that thou art to be the glorious means of Dulcinea's freedom; for now I reckon it as good as finished▪  Sancho. 
Oh not too fast, good Sir; there's a great deal to be said upon this matter yet; An old Ape has an old Eye: I know well enough Mr. Merlin has owed me an ill will ever since the Cage business, and now thinks to revenge himself upon my Buttocks for't; but 'tis all one, forewarned, forearmed, better a fair pair of heels, than die at the Gallows; though I han't an ounce of Brains I may have a drachm— I can tell that four and five make nine, though I am no Conjurer.  Don Q. 
Oh prithee sheath, sheathe up thy Proverbs now if thou lov'st me, and prepare thyself to disenchant the Princess, dear Sancho.  Sancho. 
Ay now 'tis dear Sancho, now you have occasion for my Buttocks 'tis dear Sancho; but just now I was a Babbler, a Mill-clack, and every foot a Hound, a Vermin, and I know not what; therefore egad I'll make much of one, good men are scarce, the Hound shall have more wit than to lash himself, I'll tell ye but that.  Don Q. 
How's this! Dar'st thou provoke my Rage by a Denial?  Duke. 
Consider what you owe to the merits of your Master, Sancho that sure must soften your hard heart.  Carden. 
And to the Princess too— his Soul, his better part, from whose benign and wonderful Influence, all honours must arise.  Dutch. 
'Tis but three thousand Lashes— and alas— what are those.  Sancho. 
Alas those are nothing, I warrant nothing; Sancho mimics her. but if your Ladyships render hide were to disenchant some body at this ●●te, I believe you would be glad to bate some of those. Oons does your Grace believe my Buttocks are made of Buckskin?  Luscind. 
Realiy 'tis great pity the world should be deprived of such an excellent Beauty, and I am very certain that generous Sancho will quickly relent, and willingly sacrifice his Backside to end the Enchantment.  Sancho. 
Why there's another now, I warrant that squeaking Devil could fla●g a man to death by her good will. Why what a plague has my generous Backside to do with Enchantments? Mimicking her. or why must I be obliged to demolish the Beauty of my Backside, to recover the Beauty of her Face; 'tis my Master's business I think, and since he is to enjoy the one, let him take the tother along too, for my part I'll have nothing to do with it.  Page as for Dulcinea. 
Is it then possible, thou Soul of Lead, thou Marble-breasted Rocky-hearted Squire, that thou shouldst boggle at such easy penance, to do thy Lord and me so great a favour? Hadst thou been doomed to eat a hundred Toads, three thousand Lizzards or a peck of Vipers, to sheer thy Eye lids, flay thy Head and Face, or broil thyself three hours upon a Grid-Iron, this had been something for thee to refuse; but since the thing imposed is but a flauging, a punishment each paltry Schoolboy laughs at, and which each rampant antiquated Sinner chooses for Pleasure; this to deny, especially when the performance would retrieve my Beauty, supple my Skin, and make this Olive-coloured face as fair as now it seems, is a Barbarity unpardonable, and the World will hate thee for't.  Don Q. 
And let thy sweetness know, that he shall do't, though he could herd with a young brood of Giants, fierce as the old that combated with jove— Harkee, Rascal, Garlick-eater, I will tie thee naked to a Tree, and instead of the three thousand Lashes give thee six, and each of those six inches deep, if I but hear thee breathe another word like a refusal.  Takes hold of Sancho, who trembles. Pedro. 
Hold, noble Knight, thou errst, that must not be, for the great powers have ordered the Penance done must not be forced but willingly.  Sancho. 
Why then every one as you were, and face about to the right again; God a mercy for that i'faith Master Merlin. Getting from Don Quixote Look, Sir, there's no more to be said, you hear what the grand powers have ordered: Come, come, 'tis ill shaving against the hair; the wearer best knows where the Shoe wrings him; besides you know the old saying, Scratch my back, and I'll claw your elbow; there's nothing to be done but by fair means, think of that, Sir.  Don Q. 
Why then a thousand times begging thy pardon, Sancho, I do entreat thy favour in this business.  Sancho. 
Humh— humh— entreat my favour.  Don Q. 
Consider friend our future rise depends on the performance; for wanting her influence I can be no Emperor, nor thou no Governor, which i● once done I promise thee within a month at farthest.  Sancho. 
Why, ay, Sir, this is something now— but yet three thousand Lashes, humh—  Duke. 
Nay, as to that, if Sancho be so generous to disenchant the Lady, he shall not stay so long to have a Government, for I have now an Island at his service.  Card. 
Oh fortunate Sancho, Oh most happy Squire, I shall be proud to wait on him.  Dutch. 
And I.  Lusc. 
And all of us.  Sancho. 
Ay marry Sir, now you sound well indeed, there's no squeaking in this Bagpipe; why 'tis a wonderful thing to think now, how benefits have power to alter resolutions, and how merrily an Ass will trip it up Hill that's laden with Gold and Jewels; methinks I am strangely altered on the sudden, and am not so averse to this Lashing as before.  Don Q. 
Well, are things yet according to thy wish, art thou now satisfied, that by my means, thou shalt become a Governor, does thy heart yet relent?  Sancho. 
It does, Sir, and you may see it in my Eyes. weeping You may find by me too, that he that is obstinate wears his Coat soonest threadbare, and folly may hinder a man of many a good turn. I beseech ye, Sir, to pardon my Proverbs, and thank the Duke there for his noble favour, which I do now resolve to deserve by my speedy disenchanting the Lady Dulcinea, who yet ere morning shall find her business much bettered, if my Buttocks can be but in humour.  Don Q. 
There spoke my Brother, my Right hand▪ my Genius.  Duke. 
The Islands name is Barataria— and here I do declare before ye all, Don Sancho is the Governor.  Omn. 
Long live the Governor of the Island Barataria.  Pedro. 
'Tis well, and more to celebrate this hour, I by my Art will show how I approve it.  Pedro waves his Wand, than here is performed this Song sung by a Milkmaid▪ and followed by a Dance of Milkmaids. 

SONG.  

I.  
YE Nymphs and Sylvan Gods,  
That Love Green Fields and Woods▪  
When Spring newly born,  
Herself does adorn,  
With Flowers and Blooming Buds;  
Come Sing in the praise,  
Whilst Flocks do graze  
In yonder pleasant Vale,  
Of those that choose  
Their sleeps to lose,  
And in cold Dews,  
With clouted Shoes,  
Do carry the Milking Pail.   

II.  
The Goddess of the Morn,  
With blushes they adorn,  
And take the fresh Air;  
Whilst Linnets prepare  
A Consort on each green Thorn,  
The Ousle and Thrush,  
On every Bush;  
And the Charming Nightingale;  
In merry Vain,  
Their Throats do strain,  
To entertain  
The jolly train  
That carry the Milking Pail.   

III.  
When cold bleak Winds do Roar,  
And Flowers can spring no more,  
The Fields that were seen,  
So pleasant and green,  
By winter all Candied o'er,  
Oh! how the Town Lass,  
Looks with her white Face,  
And her Lips of deadly Pale:  
But it is not so,  
With those that go,  
Through Frost and Snow,  
With Cheeks that glow,  
And carry the Milking Pail.   

IV.  
The Miss of Courtly ●ould,  
Adorned with Pearl and Gold,  
With washeses and Paint,  
Her Skin does so Taint,  
She's withered before She's old,  
Whilst She in Commode,  
Puts on a Cartload;  
And with Cushions plumps her Tail;  
What joys are found,  
In Russet Gown,  
Young, Plump and Round,  
And sweet and sound,  
That carry the Milking Pail▪   

V.  
The Girls of Venus' game,  
That venture Health and Fame,  
In practising Feats,  
With Colds and with Heats,  
Make Lovers grow Blind and Lame;  
If Men were so Wise,  
To value the prize,  
Of the Wares most fit for sale,  
What store of Beans,  
Would dawb their clothes,  
To save a Nose,  
By following those  
That carry the Milking Pail.    Carden. 
Merlin is pleased at Sancho's condescension, which he has droud by this strange Entertainment.  Don Q. 
And Dulcinea smiled most radiantly.  Luscind. 
And at her going made a low bow to Sancho.  Duke. 
Come Governor, now let us home to Supper, where we'll confer about some public matters relating to your Charge.  Dutch. 
Take heed you are not cruel, our Islanders will ne'er endure a Tyrant.  Sancho. 
Oh let me alone for that Madam, I'll be as mild as a Milch Cow: I have nothing rough about me but my Beard. 
Thus goes the World Sirs, many must fall low,  
Whilst others rise up high;  
Many get Governments the Lord knows how,  
And so Gadzooks have I.  Exeunt.    

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Marcelia walks over the Stage pensively. Afterwards Enter Cardenio and Ambrosio. Card. 
— SO Cynthia rose amidst the Myrtle Grove, Speaking as Marcelia passes by.  
Like the Queen Mother of the Stars above.  
Oh, dear Ambrosio, good morrow to thee, what you come from seeing Execution done upon Diego?  Ambr. 
I have seen him soundly whipped, and turned our of his Employment this morning.  Card. 
Insolent▪ Villain! was there no one to attack but the chief Beauty of our Groves, the Glory of the Plains, and Darling of the Shepherds, the admired Marcelia. Leandro her Father it seems was there too, who, I hear, has made a particular Suit to the Duke about his Daughter.  Ambr. 
Your Intelligence is good, Sir.  Card. 
My Intelligence is good? Why, how now Friend, art thou grown resty, is that all, to say my Intelligence is good? nay, than you shall find my Intelligence is better; for I heard a Bird sing, that the old Man, weighing your late brave action done for her, and knowing you to be the Duke's kinsman, has made an offer of his Daughter for a Wife for you.  Ambr. 
So S●r.  Card. 
So, Sir, I gad, and I think very well too Sir, what a Pox ails thee? Why thou art as musty, as if thou hadst been offered a Witch without a Portion, or dost thou banter me with a fit of dissimulation? Ha, come, come, Sir, welcome your happy Planet with smiles, Plato, Socrates and Aristotle are good Companions when a man has an Estate, but horribly dull and phlegmatic fellows when the Assets are wanting.  Ambr. 
Very well, Sir.  Card. 
Thou art the Duke's Relation, and I know he loves thee, and will do very well for thee, but still a fortune of thy own making is more honourable, and I know Leanardo dotes on his sine Daughter, and will give her a world of Wealth; nor is his Family to be despised for all he fancies a rural Life among the Shepherds, he being, as I'm informed, lineally descended from the noble Cid Ruy diaz.  Ambr. 
And what of all this, Sir?  Card. 
What of all this? Why then thou'rt a happy fellow, I think to have the prospect of enjoying so sweet a Creature with so plentiful a Fortune: Yet what most surprises me is, to hear that her sudden Love to thee, has quite altered her nature, and she that from her Infancy was noted for th' most reserved and coy of all her Sex, now talks of Love, blushes, sings amorous Sonnets, and lives quite contrary to her former custom.  Ambr. 
So let her live, prithee why dost thou trouble me with the recital of a Woman's follies; their Wiles, their Mischiefs, and their Protean Changes I know too well already; I am as well skilled in the Philosophy of that damning Sex as e'er was Aretine, and hate 'em as he did, with such a rancour, that I have an Odium even for her that bore me, for being female in her generation; if thou wouldst please me say the plague's amongst 'em. But he that bids me for a Wife prepare,  Is forming the worst Hell, and fixing of me there Ex. Card. 
What the Devil ails him? the young fellow's bewitched I think, I thought he came hither on purpose to follow her, for I'm sure I saw her go down that walk just know— But since 'tis otherwise, I'm certain she must meet him, and then a kind word, and a sweet look or two I warrant willsoon convert him from his Heresy.  Enter Page. Page. 
My Lord Duke has been looking for ye, Sir, this hour, he's now in the Hall with the Duchess, ready to see the second Exploit which we are going to banter Don Quixote with, which is the Adventure of the Countess Trifaldi; if you intent to laugh, Sir, come away for we are just going to begin.  Card. 
I'll follow thee; the Jest must needs be excellent. Exeunt  Re-enter Ambrosio and Marcelia following▪ Ambr. 
Was ever man so teized with what he hated, the more I shun the Plague, the more I am infected, how dar'st thou follow me?  Marc. 
What dares not Courage do? I am in your debt, Sir, and like a generous Bankrupt am so honest I cannot rest, nor harbour any quiet till I have made repayment.  Ambr. 
By torturing me, is that the way Tormentor!  Marc. 
Heaven's can you talk of tortures I being here, that undergo the greatest that are possible: Is there a greater torture for a woman, than to suppress her humnour, veil her Pride which she sometimes calls Modesty, and be forced, blushing beneath a thousand thousand shames, to curse her Stars like me, and own she loves.  Ambr. 
Why then Antipodes to Amity, dost thou pretend to Love?  Marc. 
Oh that thy tongue were a sharp pointed Dagger to wound my heart, that it might bleed an answer, as it does now my— Soul when it compels me to answer yes— I do.  Ambr. 
What me, is't me thou lovest, speak sweet damnation.  Marc. 
I will not speak, thou Devil!— Gods what am I doing— Oh— give me back one minute of my past strength, that I may have the pleasure but of railing a little at him, and 'twill be heaven to me; where does thy Witchcraft lie, thou Sorcerer, in thy eyes, thy tongue, or in what other part? Tell me, that I may tear the fatal Charm, and give my poor tormented Soul some ease.  Ambr. 
hay, Fits, Eruptions! This is woman right now, there's now a Legion of Cub Devils within her, that tumble up and down and make her mad.  Marc. 
Forgive me, Sir, these strange effects of passion, these stubborn weeds, which I will now endeavour to root out and demolish.  Ambr. 
That was a flattering Fiend now; soft and moving to make us think she is a Foe to Pride.  Marc. 
I have seemed proud, Sir, but 'twas all Hypocrisy, which Patience and warm pursuing had discovered, as now your Charms have done, and made me flexible.  Ambr. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, now dearest Chrisostome look down and smile to see the Victim offered to revenge thee.  

SONG.  

I.  
DAmon let a Friend advise ye,  
Follow Cloris though she flies ye,  
Tho her Tongue your Suit is slighting,  
Her kind Eyes you'll find inviting:  
womens' Rage▪ like shallow Water,  
Does but show their hurtless Nature;  
When the Stream seems rough and frowning,  
There is still least fear of drowning.   

II.  
Let me tell the adventurous Stranger,  
In our calmness lies our danger;  
Like a River's silent Running,  
Stillness show, our Depth and Cunning:  
She that rails ye into Trembling,  
Only shows her fine Dissembling;  
But the Fawner to abuse ye,  
Thinks ye Fools, and so will use ye.    Ambr. 
A well tuned Devil this, oh she has great variety—  Marc. 
There are a thousand frailties in our Sex which every day and hour succeed each other, uncertain natures with uncertain Passions, swayed by the Ebb and Flow of our Blood by Seasons, as the Tide is by the Moon; like Rowers we look one way— move another. 
Sooth with our Tongues to make Mankind obey,  
But scarely ever think the things we say.   Ambr. 
Go on, for now thou'rt on a Theme that pleases me, rail at thy Sex, and I will hear with patience, nay help thee onwards thus— Even from your Infancy you show the Serpent in your perverse natures. cry for each Bauble, then pout and be sullen: The stubborn Curse grows as 'twere seededin ye, and springs uncultered from the first original.  Marc. 
We very often show a bud, 'tis true of mischiefs, that bloom out in riper years.  Ambr. 
Why that's honnestly owned, and shows thou hast some conscience, prithee proceed; come to the Girl of ten.  Marc. 
Her chief delight is, ere she can be one, to be thought a woman; she always stands on Tiptoes, and her hand is never from her Breasts to make 'em grow.  Ambr. 
Right again, right dear Sin breeder, very right— proceed.  Marc. 
Boys of her own age she hates mortally, but still extremely pleased when men accost her; to call her Miss is an affront unpardonable; but tell her she's grown tall and fit to marry you win her heart, than you shall see her smicker, and make a thousand silly apish faces, to let you see how well she understands ye.  Ambr. 
Young Crocodiles, but go on thou incomparable Orator, thou Cicero in Petticoats, prithee, go on— Come to their Womanhood, their Pride of eighteen, and so to one and twenty; what are they then thou Sibyl?  Marc. 
He rallies me, this base invective pleases him. Aside. Then— Why then they are a second Race of Angels— The greatest Blessings Heaven e'er gave Mankind. Angrily to him.  Ambr. 
Aw— nay if thou flagg'st to thy old course I hate thee: come I'll refresh thy Genius with a scrap of Poetry I lately met with in an honest satire, that suits exactly with the present Theme. 
At fourteen Years young Females are contriving Tricks to tempt ye,  
At sixteen Years come on and woo, and take of Kisses plenty;  
At eighteen Years full grown and ripe, they're ready to content ye;  
At nineteen sly and mischievous, but the Devil at one and twenty.  There, there's a Poetical touch now to inspire thee; come, prithee go on now.  Marc. 
Oh Heaven, he makes me his mere jest, and I ungratefully have been exposing my Sex to entertain his vanity.  Amb. 
Nay, either rail quickly or I'll be gone, I have no other business with thee.  Marc. 
Yes, thou insulting Monster, I will rail, but it shall be at thee, thou seed of Rocks, unnatural Brute, thou shame of all that call themselves of humane race.  Ambr. 
Thou Woman.  Marc. 
Have I been from my Infancy adored, my Person been he Idol of thy Sex, and drawn more worshippers than often Heaven itself, to pay Devotion to my Beauty's Altar; and is it possible that thy humanity can so degenerate, to think me—  Amb. 
Woman.  Marc. 
Reject a joy too precious for thy hopes, and barbarously use me like—  Amb. 
A Woman— Woman, that I could wish with all her kind were doomed to stand in one great field of Flax, and I had power to set it on a blaze. Remember Chrisostome, there, there's the cause 
That 'twixt thy Sex and me breeds endless jar,  
And for'whose sake I shall till death abhor.  Exit.  Marc. 
Do: But yet ere thy death, I beg the powers divine, thou mayst find one, one Woman, to give thee as little rest as thou hast left me now; for I shall never never rest again: Racks, Poison, Flames, Halters, and Cutting Swords, I long methinks, I long to use ye all; this comes of being coy, and of dissembling. 
All stubborn Maids, let my Example guide,  
Henceforth ne'er sacrifice your Love to Pride:  
Take whilst you can the kind deserving he,  
Lest in Refusing, you Repent like me.    

SCENE II.  Enter Duke, Don Quixote, Duchess, Luscinda, Cardenio and Rodriguez. Don Q. 
Your Grace has here a very pleasant Prospect, the Landscape filled with sweet variety; and then the Sea at distance near that Champion, makes the view more delightful.  Duke. 
A seat for sports, Sir, during the Summer season, I hope your Valour rested well to night Sir: How fares the noble Governor of Barataria too? have you seen him this morning?  Don Q. 
Not yet my Lord, which in some little measure causes my wonder.  Dutch. 
Oh you must consider Sir, the task he has undertaken; his zeal perhaps to disenchant your Lady speedily, might make him lash himself so much last night, as may require him to rest more i'th' morning. But see here he comes.  Carden. 
Your Grace has found the Reason, it must be so.  Lusc. 
Mrs. Rodriguez there tells me he has been writing a Letter to his Wife this morning, to inform her of his change of fortune, and invite her to his Government.  Rodrig. 
He write it, I beg your pardon, good Madam, I told ye the Steward's Clerk writ it for him; for his part poor Peasant he can neither Write nor Read; he'll make a rare Governor.  Duke. 
Oh never the worse for that, Mrs. Rodriguez, the essential part of a Governor is Judgement.  Dutch. 
And Rodriguez I'd advise you to take care how you vilify him Sancho is very satirical— and there's an old grudge depending between ye, about Dapple you may remember, here he comes, we shall now have an Account of his Letter and the rest.  Enter Sancho. Don Q. 
How does my Friend, my Intimate, for since the Duke has honoured thee, and the Fates have ordained thee to do me such a signal Courtesy, 'tis fit I take thee into the List of Friends: Well, and how go matters, hah— troth thau lookst lean upon't, I'm afraid thou hast overjerked thyself; no don't do so neither— Dear Sancho, come prithee tell me how many hundred hah.  Sancho. 
Hundred, Sir, hold a blow there a little, soft and fair goes far, and let him that owns the Cow take her by the Tail, 'tis easy to be prodigal at another man's cost. Oons dee think a Governor has but one business in's head at a time— Charity, Master mine, begins at home, you know, and ever while you live, christian your own Child first; I have been cudgeling my brains all this night about writing a Letter to my Wife Teresa, and my Daughter Mary, (pray heaven she don't die of a fit when she hears she must come away and be a Countess) so that betwixt one and the other, as concerning the Lashes, to be plain with ye, I could give myself but five of the three thousand yet.  Don Q. 
But five, oh unreasonable Hang-dog, my Lord Duke did your Grace ever hear such a pitiful sneaking Account.  Duke. 
I faith, Friend Sancho, five was too few of all conscience.  Card. 
'Tis a palpable affront to the Princess, five hundred had been too few.  Sancho. 
D'ee hear, pray Friend, will you meddle with your own matters, go too there's many will shuffle the Cards that won't play, and I beseech your Grace consider me rightly, I'll make my Master full amends another time, for though they were but five, yet they were laid on with my hand, and with a thumping good will I promise ye.  Dutch. 
Blows with a hand, Friend governor, are rather Claps than Lashes, and yours, I see there, is so soft, that I fear the sage Merlin will hardly accept of such effeminate discipline.  Sancho. 
Why then, if your Grace pleases to provide me a good Holly-bush against night, I will so fegue my Buttocks before morning, that you shall say I have earned my Government I'll warrant ye, and I propose this the more willingly, because I intent to enter upon't to morrow, as my Lord Duke has promised.  Lusc. 
That indeed, Madam, may do something to the purpose.  Dutch. 
D'ee hear, Rodriguez— Let there be such a Bush got ready.  Rodr. 
What means your Grace, I beseech ye consider my place, and what I officiate in; and since lashing the Buffoon is necessary, let some of the fellows of the Stable exercise him with a Horse Whip.  Sancho. 
Marry gep goody Sock-mender, what you are too good are ye— Well from the Conscience of an old Bawd, and the Pride of a fusty Waiting-woman, good Lord deliver me. If I had desired ye to lead my Dapple after me to my Government, how you would have cocked up your Nose, I warrant.  Rod. 
What Creatures of that course kind, what Asses are ever used to go to Governments, thou unpolished Animal.  Sancho. 
Why, thou Pomatum Pot, didst never hear of an Ass that went to a Government in thy life— Ah pox on thee, where hast thou been bred.  Duke. 
Oh a hundred, a hundred, the grand Sancho speaks but reason.  Dutch. 
What noise is this? Drum beats within, and Trumpet sound.  Don Q. 
The sound is dismal, and it seems to me, as if some strange Adventure were at hand.  Card. 
It must be so, see here they come upon us.  Card. 
Some Embassy to the great Don Quixote without doubt.  Sancho. 
A plague on their Embassy, who e'er they are, I don't like their coming at this time— If this Adventure now should put any stop to my Government— I should make bold to wish their long nosed Ambassador hanged there.  Enter two with Drum and Fife sounding hoarsly, and marching solemnly o'er th' Stage; then Enter Pedro disguised like a Chinese, with great Whiskers, and a large long Crooked Nose on his Face, leading in Mannel dressed anticly in a long Robe, with three Skirts held up by three Pages and veiled, attended by four Waiting Women veiled and dressed anticly, than 4 Antics in several shapes, bearing a Table, on which stands the Figure of a large Golden Head; they go round the Stage, and then the Table and Head being placed in the middle they dance, than Pedro advances to the Duke and speaks. Pedro. 
Most noble Prince, you must be pleased to know, that in the flourishing Kingdom of Candaya, I am known by the Name of Pierres the hardy, otherwise called the Knight of the Roman Nose▪ only Brother to the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise called the afflicted Matron: The Lady you see yonder, who in her prosperity, was chief Lady, or Waiting woman, to the Queen Dona Magunsia, Dowager to King Archipiello, and from his Territories, thus far is come to kiss your mighty hands, and your fair duchess's, and to entreat a favour.  Duke. 
Thrice worthy Knight— Your self and the good Countess are most welcome.  Dutch. 
And tell her Sir, if any griefs oppress her, we shall be very glad to bring her comfort.  Pedro. 
Your Beauty is most generous: but ere I proceed to that, I must desire to know, whether the valorous and invincible Knight Don Quixot de la Mancha be in your Castle, in whose search principally, to say the truth, she comes.  Duke. 
Tell her then likewise noble Pierres, that here is the valiant Knight Don Quixot, from whose generous condition, she may safely promise herself all courtesy and assistance.  Pedro. 
Then, blessed be our happy Stars— I will inform her instantly.  Card. 
Oh admirable function of Knight Errantry, beyond all other happy!  Lusc. 
Oh Virtue excellent, to whom Ladies come from the remotest Regions of the Earth, to sue for succour.  Duke. 
Secure in his strong Arm and never failing Valour.  Don Q. 
Now I could wish my Lord that prating Gown-man, that dull Bag-pudding Priest, that lately railed at Chivalry— were by to see whither such Knights are necessary.  Duke. 
Oh, a home bred Bookworm, you must not think of him. Nay Madam this must not be, we are your Servants all.  Dutch. 
Your Merit claims respect, Madam, from every one, therefore pray sit by us, and please to unfold your Griefs.  The Trifaldi comes and kneels to the Duke, he takes her up, and he, and the Duchess seat her in a Chair. Man. 
Illustrious Beauty, as soon as my full heart and faltering tongue will give me leave I shall: But in the first place, I must desire to know whether the most purifiediferous Don Quixote of the Manchissima and and his Squireiferous Panca be in this Company or no.  Sanc. 
Why look ye forsooth without any more flourishes, the Governor Panca is here, and Don Quixotissimo too, therefore most afflictedissimous Matronissima speak what you willissimus, for we are all ready to be your Servitorissimus.  Don Q. 
Upon my honour straightened Lady, let me but know the tenor of your wrongs, they shall not want redress, and now you hear Don Quixot speak himself.  Man. 
Art thou the Man? blessed be that Madrid Phiz, those Toothless Jaws, and that way beaten Body, here at thy Feet I prostrate my nuworthiness to beg assistance from thy Magnanimity.  Don Q. 
Oh Madam, Madam, what do you mean? By my honour this must not be. Raises her up.  Man. 
And thou more Loyal Squire, than ever followed in past or present times, the ragged fortunes of so august and so renowned a Master; thou second part of Errantry, longer in goodness than my Brother's Nose there; thus do I shake thy Fist and thus conjure thee to bear thy part in my affair with willingness.  Sanc. 
Why truly Mistress, as to what you say, of my honesty in following my Master— Ragged or not ragged, wet or dry, I think you are pretty right; but when you say my Goodness is longer than that Gentleman's Nose, there I must beg your pardon, Gadzooks 'tis a mere Compliment, faith it comes short of that, I assure you.  Man. 
Be pleased to know then, valorous and untamed Sir, that in the Queen Donna Maguncia's Court, I being Governess to the young Princess Antonomasia, and hindering her from marrying the Giant Malambrurio, a great Enchanter; He to vent his rage more sensibly upon us, did it on our most tender part, our Faces, thatching our Chins as you may behold 'em, with these unseemly Beards and loathsome Bristles.  Duke. 
'Tis wonderful!  They unveil themselves and show their Faces all Bearded. Dutch. 
Beyond all thought amazing!  Lusc. 
Th' Enchanter showed his Malice to the height.  Card. 
To make a Witch of a Woman before she comes to be fifty, is very hard. Sancho feels one of the Beards.  Sancho. 
The hair is plaguy fast set on; the Enchanter as ye call him has bearded 'em with a vengeance; why this would undo the poor Devils in a little time: if they're inclined to be cleanly they'll spend all their Portions in one year, only in paying for their shaving.  Don. Q. 
How my blood boils against this damned Enchanter! for I perceive now this disgrace of theirs is done in spite to me, he knows I hate a Woman with a Beard— and now has plagued me with 'em in a Cluster.  Man. 
But see how harmless Innocence gets Friends; we were no sooner bearded, as you see; but to our wonder, in the place appears this golden head, charmed with prophetic speech by the great Merlin, who bid us instantly travel into Spain to find Don Quixot, and with him his Sword and Buckler Sancho Panca, in whose renowned presence, he would discover the remedy to ease us of our shames— This is our dismal story, and thus far are we come famed Knight in quest of you, and lest you doubt the truth of my relation, question the head, and you will then know more.  Don Q. 
Not that I question, most afflicted Lady, the truth of your strange story; but to be satisfied in the method I must use in your relief, I will presume t'interrogate the head.  Duke. 
Now for the Oracle, thus far 'tis rarely carried.  Card. 
They act it to a miracle. Sancho is so confounded yonder, he cannot speak.  Luscinda 
Oh! they'll give him vent presently.  Dutch. 
Pray Heaven, the Head be in a good humour, and has not got a cold, that we may hear distinctly, Merlin's order.  Sancho, 
Good Sir be pleased to begin as soon as you can, for else the Head to my thinking by his gaping, will attack you with a Speech first.  Don Qu. 
Hem, hem, thou admirable Head, what is thy name?  Head 
Don Quixot de la Mancha, otherwise called the Knight of the Ill-favoured-Face.  Sancho, 
O, Lord, and who am I pray Mr. Head?  Head, 
the trusty Sancho-Pancha, and now the famous Governor of Barataria.  Sancho, 
The Devil's in't, I see there's no keeping preferment secret, every one's Head, enchanted or not enchanted, will be meddling with other people's matters; and when am I to be settled in this Government, good Mr. Golden-pate?  Head, 
Not till the Adventure of the Beards is ended.  Sancho, 
Why then pray, let it be ended quickly, for my clothes are making; and my Wife is coming, and I must govern to morrow, whether these good women have beards or no beards.  Don Qu. 
Be brief, incomparable Head, and let me know the way to disenchant the Countess.  Head, 
This night between the hours of twelve and one, Merlin will send thee an enchanted Horse, on which thou and thy valiant Squire must ride through the Region of the Air, unto Candaya, to Combat the Cursed Giant Malambruno, who by thy hand shall fall, and from that instant, the hairs shall peel from these disconsolate faces, and every Chin be smooth as Infant Beauty▪  Don. Qu. 
Thanks to the gracious Merlin, and let the Horse but come, I'll in a trice be with this horrid Giant. Sancho, prepare, for I will lose my Beard among those Infidels, ere suffer these to grow a moment longer.  Sancho, 
D'ee hear, d'ee hear Sir, pray let discretion rule the roast with ye a little, I am a Governor now, and can speak Sentences by the Dozen, what a plague have we to do with Giants of Candaya? how do you think the Princess Dulcineas business will go on, if I am galling my Buttocks in a Journey towards Candaya? And as for these Gentlewomen, they'll do well to get into some Country or other where there's but little Sunshine, they may do business well enough in the Dark, for the Proverb says, when Candles are out all Cats are Grey.  Mannel. 
Oh, barbarous, art thou to be a Civil Judge, and canst thou want compassion; whither inhuman shall we fly for Succour, who'll take a Waiting-woman with a Beard on.  Sancho, 
Well, well, that's all one, I shan't ride for all that.  Carden. 
Truly Sir Governor, the Countess is in the right, a Lady with a Beard, will look but oddly in a Queen's Bedchamber.  〈◊〉. 
Oh, the grand Sancho, is a greater friend to our Sex 〈◊〉 to suffer such ignominy through his default.  Don Qu. 
I've taught him more humanity I am sure.  Sancho, 
Ay, you may talk, but this shan't get me on Horseback, for though I am a friend good enough to the Sex, yet I am for letting every one shave herself as she can. Now am I piping-hot just ready to enter upon my Government, and here's the devil of a Head would 〈◊〉 it, to send me of a fools Errand, as far as Candaya, gadzookes, yet Waiting-women go hairy to their Graves, I'll not jolt so far to take way any one's Beard; not I, if my Master has such a mind to't let him do●t alone, I've other business enough he knows.  Duke, 
Why friend, the Island is rooted fast in the earth, 'twill stay for ye till ye come again, besides, I find there's a necessity for your going: what sayst thou famed Head? Can Don Quixote end the Charm alone?  ●●ad, 
No, 'tis impossible, Sancho must go, or these be Bearded ever.  Sancho, 
Oons, ye damned chattering devil, ye lie, and I'll see if I can Cunjure you into a better opinion; now I'm provoked, I'll see what kind of witchcraft lurks within ye here. How now. Snatches off the Golden-head from the Table, and discovers the Page barefaced, who is hid within it. What a plague have we here?  Pedro, 
A Pox on him, the Choleric fool has discovered us.  Man. 
●Tis so, he has spoiled the rest of the Scene, come let's take the Page away, and carry off all with a Laugh— ha, ha, ha, a trick, a trick, ha, ha.  Omn. 
A trick, a trick, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. They all get off, Ex.  Duke, 
'Tis plain now, this is a mere piece of Roguery.  Dutch. 
Invented I warrant by some enemy to Knight Errantry.  〈◊〉. 
And acted by some of the Mobile of the Village.  Queen, 
That heard of his high soaring fame no doubt, and therefore thought to blast it with this jest.  Don Qu. 
Poor infects I despise 'em.  Sancho, 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— but what says Mr. Head here all this while to the business? Shall my Master and I go a voyage to Candaya? good Mr. Head, ha, ha, ha, ha, humph, what d'ee ye say nothing to't, to Shave a parcel of rotten Waiting-women? admirable Mr. Head, ha, ha, ha, ha, I think I have routed your enchantment, I'faith, ha, ha, ha, what thinks your Worship of the business; as the Natural said to the Bishop, who's the Fool now?  Don Qu. 
Peace Buffle, all Drolls are below me to take notice of.  Duke, 
Ay, ay, Don Quixotes in the right; and so is likewise the Grand Sancho, to honour whom for this last witty discovery, I'll instantly send for his Robe, and prepare his Officers to wait on him to his Government. 
To do such feats Ages to come shall brag on,  
Nay, when I'm there, I'll govern like a Dragon.  Exeunt.    

ACT IU.  

SCENE I. The Town.  Enter Teresa, and Mary Panca, in poor Clothes. Marry, 
COme, come, Mother, pray be pacified and cheer up a little better, and since my good Vather is got to be a Governor, and has sent for us hither to this curious place to be Countesses an vine Volk, slidikins let's go to't merrily, and not look sneaking, as if we were going to be hanged for Sheep stealing.  Speaks broad Country like. Teres. 
Ah, Marry, if I am melancholy 'tis upon thy account, for thou'lt prove but an awkerd Countess I'm afraid, now the blessing is fallen upon us; hast left off blowing thy Nose between thy Fingers Mary, and wiping it upon thy Smocksleeves Child.  Marry, 
Yes that I have pray, and dipping my Knuckles in the platter too.  Teres. 
And playing at see-saw a straddle 'cross a board with the Ploughman; and above all thy dearly beloved delight, moulding of Cocklebread.  Marry, 
Aw, I have left 'em all off I fackins, my Vather shall see when he comes, that his daughter Mary, shawnt disgrace her gentility, he shall find me so changed in my discourse, and my way so altered, that odslidikins, he shall hardly know me again.  Takes a Letter out of her Bosom. Teres. 
Ah blessing on the good Man's heart, here's his Letter, and little did I think that my Sancho, could have made his words good that he said to me, when he left me to go a Squiring: Good-lack-a-day, I have been so overjoyed ever since I had it, and have read it so often, and kissed it and thumbed it so much, that I have almost worn the Letter out; it has had two or three mischances too, for the same day I had it, putting it into my Bosom as I was a washing, and being taken up with thinking, I dropped it into the Tub amongst the fowl Suds; but I warrant ye I snatched it out with haste enough; but then again, to see the ill accidents that come by being over fond of a thing, at night carrying it to bed with me, and reading it with joy, by an inch of Candle, which I held in my hand, I fell a sleep, the light went out I know not how, and in the Morning I found the Candle in my hand, squeezed as flat as the Letter, and gad forgive me, the Letter in the Chamber-pot.  Mary 
Goodnow let's see't a little, for I'm hughly pleased with the dress that the Dutch have found out for us here. Takes the Letter.  Teres. 
The Dutch have found out, why did every any one see such a simple Holden, 'tis not the Dutch that have found it out for us fool, 'tis a huge great Lady that's Wife to one Duck, a huge great Lord that the Letter says has done it, ye silly Jade.  Mary, 
Duck, Duck, good lord Mother, that you should mistake so, why what a dickens, d'ee think I can't read, here's no Duck nor Mallard neither, I tell ye 'tis the Dutch, look here else; let's read again.  Mary 
reads, Therefore now goody B.E.A.N. goody Beanbelly (Lord bless us, my Vather you know used to Joake, and often call ye so Mother) ha, ha, ha, ha, left up your G. O LL. S, and thank heaven that you are now a governor's Wife, My Lady the Dutch, ay here 'tis now.  Teres. 
Where, where, is't now, ye blind Oatmeal-eater, * Teresa reads. humh That you are now a governor's Wife, my Lady the duchess, the Duchess ye ignorant Jade, that is as I said before the Duck's Wife, has sent my Daughter Mary a rich piece of Stuff, to make her a modi●●●ress: 'tis she has sent it Clodpate, not the Dutch, whoever knew them mind any Modes or Dresses either, ye senseless Malkin.  Marry, 
Well, well, but then here again a little farther She takesthe Letter. is best of all, I intent to marry Moll out of hand ha, ha, ha, ha, for her B. V. B. her Bubbies grow large and seem to make motion for a Husband, ha, ha, ha.— Well my Vather's a perilous man I'll say't, O my Soul and Conscience he knows ones mind as well as if he were in one.  Teres. 
Ay, Lord save him, the man had more in him than ever we thought Mary, and then le's see here I come in, in the She reads. next Line— humph. Come to me as best thou canst, and against thy coming I will provide thee a Coach, for I go to my Government to morrow, with intent to make money, as all other Governors do.— Dapple is well and commends him heartily to thee. She takes the Letter.  Marry, 
Ah bless the Soul of him, would the pretty Creatue were here, that I might buss him a little. Teresa takes the Letter.  Teres. 
Ah Gimminy, I could eat the Letter up methinks:— well dear Sancho, or dear Governor, here I am come to thee at last; good Lord Mary! I can but think upon his former words, which odsdiggers I could ne'er have believe then, though now I find 'em true▪ Teresa, said he thou wert born to be a Countess, the what d'ye call'ems, Planets I think he called 'em, have allotted thee Honours, said he, Thou hast an Eye like a Countess, says he a Cocking Nose like a Countess, says he, a shape like a Countess, a jetting Bum like a Countess, and a— every thing like a Countess, said he; and good lack a day, to see how the dear man's words fall out.  Marry, 
Odslidikins, I am so merry, I could leap out of my skin methinks; but come Mother, now le's settle our faces and inquire for the Governor Sancho's House pray.  Teres. 
It must be here about I'm sure, by the directions of the Letter: Oh! here comes a Gentleman, I'll inquire of him. Now Mary look to yourself, be sure  Enter Mannell. Mannel, 
Well, they may talk of Proteus, and his changes, but in so small a time, if ever he wore so many shapes as I have done, I much wonder, the blunt fool Sancho by chance made shift to frustrate our last design; but I'll try if he has brains enough to find me out in this disguise. I am now by my Lord Duke's order to be Secretary, and Civility Master to fool him and his Wife in there new Government: He I hear is upon his way hither, and she too ought to be here to meet ●m, with the dowdy her daughter, I wonder their Tawny Ladyship's stay so long.  Marry, 
Sir, Gentleman, if I may presume to be so bold.  Teres. 
Prithee hold thy Tongue, I'll speak to him myself, hem, hem, if your business Sir, * Putting her by▪ Makes awkerd Courtesies. be not much in haste, be pleased to know Sir, that I am the Governor Sancho's Wife Sir, and therefore desire you would do yourself the honour Sir, to conduct me to his house Sir.  Mannell, 
It must be they, their Comical Figures show they can be no other.  Marry, 
And look friend, I am his daughter Moll you must know, otherwise called Mary the Buxom; and now you know us, pray will you tell my Vather,— that we are come, d'ye hear.  Mannel, 
In happy time good Ladies, for I have been here ready this two hours, to attend your motion.  Marry, 
Deslikins, d'ye hear Mother, he calls us Ladies already. Aside.  Teres. 
Humph, you will be prating still, you will show yourself a hoyden; why look Friend, to deal plainly, we had made our noble entrance sooner, but the Wagon broke, and we were forced for three hours to tarry the mending.  Mannel, 
The Wagon, why did your Excellencies, then condescend to make your approaches to your Government, by the contemptible Convenience of a Wagon.  Teres. 
Why truly yes friend, for want of better, our Excellencies for once made a hard shift.  Marry, 
There was ne'er a Cart to be had in Town, you must know but one, that was carrying Lime to make Mortar to mend the Town Hall.  Mannel, 
A Cart! a Chariot sure you must mean Misse-Pritty.  Teres. 
A Cart did you ever hear such a Jade, ay, ay Sir, Miss meant a Chariot as you say: Pox take her, would she were whipped at a Cart▪ a little; a thing that runs upon Wheels Sir, a fine stately thing that runs I say upon Wheels. To Mary aside.  Mannel, 
Ay, it may run upon Legs for any thing thou know'st of it. Aside.  Mannel, 
Ay, ay, your Ladyship is in the right, it does run upon Wheels indeed: But come now I beseech you give me leave to usher ye to your House, I am myself a small Officer under the Governor and your Ladyship; to him I serve as Secretary, and to you as Civility Master.  Teres. 
Good Mr. Civility, I shall soon know your good qualities.  Marry, 
Oh, ho, ho, O Lord! I can't keep from laughing for the life of me.  Mannel, 
My duty at present, is to conduct you to the Chief Matron, to be new dressed, as fits a governor's Wife,— it must be done instantly,— therefore pray follow me, that you may be ready to receive your Lord, who intends to be here at Dinner.  Teres. 
Well, pray lead the way friend, I'll warrant I'll keep touch with ye.  Marry, 
Lord bless us, what●s to be done now, I am in such a quandary I know not what I say nor do, for my part. Exeunt with Mannel.   

SCENE II.  Enter Duke, and Sancho dress'd Fantastically as a Governor, between him and the Duchess, Luscinda, Cardenio, Rodriguez and Servants following. Duke, 
HAve the Chief Citizens and leading Men of the Island notice, of their new governor's Arrival.  Servant, 
They have my Lord, and this is the place, where they designed to meet him.  Duke, 
'Tis well, is there ought else, my most illustrious Don, in which myself or the Duchess there can honour ye.  Don Qu. 
Ds'death, is that a look like a Governor, hold up thy head for shame, his joy my Lord has pressed so much upon his spirits, his Tongue at present is not at liberty.  Carden. 
The favours these illustrious persons bestow hourly, would make a Dumb man speak to return thanks.  Luscin. 
And yet he stands as if he did not mind 'em.  Dutch. 
Any thing in my power the Noble Governor is sure he may command, unless it be to give him leave to Ravish my woman Rodriguez.  Rodr. 
Me, I had rather see his Governourship hanged, than he should come but as near as to whisper me,— marry choke him what the first day of his wearing Socks.  Don Quix. 
Oons is he Dumb indeed. joggs Sancho.  Sancho, 
Hark good Mistress Conserve-maker, hold yourself contented: All Rats, look care not for mouldy Cheese, if you Virginity is to be hanged upon the Tree till I shake it off, the Crows may come and pick at it for Sancho.  Carden. 
Oh, this is well now, a few wise sayings from a Governor look decently.  Sancho, 
Some of which should profit your pert Lady then methinks, that she is so quick at putting her Spoon into another man's Porridge: look friend too much Tongue, too much Tail,— I say no more, but the Hen discovers her Nest with Cackling.  Luscin. 
Oh unfortunate person, now have I roused a sleeping Lion that will tear me to pieces.  Dutch. 
No, no, Madam the wise Governor will consider the frailty of our Sex.  Sancho, 
As to your Grace, I must needs say I am beholding, and if my Government stretch to my mind but an inch or two, I will show myself thankful as well as I can,— but for your flee●ers,— and especially Goody Warming Pan there, the Governor turns his Rump upon 'em, as things below his place and Sagacity.  Rodrig. 
Well, and I turn my Rump upon them too— 'dslife ye were but a Stirrup holder the tother day, were ye.  Duke, 
Come good words Roderiguez, there's distinction between Sancho and you now.  Rodrig. 
Ay, the worse world in the mean time,— I thought I might have deserved an honour from your Grace, considering all things, as well as that Sheepsheerer. Weeps.  Carden. 
Ha, ha, ha, Faith my Lord, Mistress Rodriguez is the right, and but that the Governor here has got the start of us, and that his people are coming to wait upon him, I would put one Shoulder to heave him out of his Authority, for the hard Joke he gave my Wife.  Sancho, 
I but in the mean time, don't sell the Bear's Skin before you have caught him: All are not Thiefs that Dog's bark at, you may turn the buckle behind ye now Friend.  Enter Pedro, and Baratarians. Pedro, 
Health to the Duke and next, the Governor, Bowing to the Duke and Sancho. † to whom I, as his Physician in ordinary,— and the Mouth of these grave Citizens, thus tender homage,— and am proud— t'inform him we come to wait upon him to his Government.  Don Qu. 
Your hat, Sancho your hat, 'dsdeath, don't you see they are all bareheaded: Come, come look grave and speak after me, 'll'l imitate▪ the Polish Election, and give it them in Latin,— Sit bonus Populus.  Sancho, 
Sit bonus Populus. Speaks loud and Clounishly.  Don Qu. 
Bonus ero Gubernator.  Sancho, 
Bonus ero Gubernator. They shout.  Duke, 
So then, since all things move in their right order, here now let's part, and bonos nocios Governour.  Sancho, 
The Governor is your Grace's Footstool my Lord.  Dutch. 
I hope your Excellency will let us hear sometimes of your Transactions.  Sancho, 
Madam, there shall not be a Pound of Butter weighed, nor yet a Pudding be enriched with Plumbs, wherein your Graces shall not have a Finger.  Duke, 
Oh! Air, Air,— I shall choack else, ha, ha, ha. Aside.  Carden. 
Well, since it must be so, adieu most noble Governor.  They make their Congee, and Exit all but Don Quixote, Pedro and Baratarians. Don Qu. 
I yet must be a minute with my friend, i●e follow your Grace instantly: you Sirs, I must desire t'absent a little too, I have some private business with the Governor How now my kind companion in my Travels, what means this tenderness? Pedro and the rest go out, Sancho weeps.  Sancho, 
Nature works, Sir,— I never look upon that scurvy Phiz of yours, nor think upon the many drubs and bruises you are to suffer▪ but my bowels earn after ye, just like a Mother, for her first born,— oh▪ keeps.  Don Qu. 
Brother, Sancho, introth this is too kind, come think of governing Man, and let that cheer thee, in which Station to give thee some few instructions I have picked out this minute, therefore mind me.  Embraces him. Sancho, 
I will, Sir, and beseech ye, speak slowly that ● may keep pace with ye, because you know my understanding was always rather for the Trot than the Gallop.  Don Qu. 
I'll fit it to a hair, hem, to begin then, if thou wouldst make thyself a proper Governor for these times, thou oughtest principally to adorn thyself with these three virtues or qualifications, which are Morality, Conscience, and Decency.— And first, of the first, to have or be thought to have Morality, is extremely useful for a Governor, if it were for nothing but to be a Screen, that people might not pry too much into his Religion, for if he is once noted for a moral Man (whither he be really so or no) let him be a jew in his opinion, or of no Religion at all, 'tis not three half pence matter.  Sancho, 
I am glad of that Sir, for my Religion, like the rest of my good parts is somewhat Cloudy at present, 'tis like a Field of Corn ill managed, there will want a great deal of weeding before the Crop would come to be good for any thing.  Don Qu. 
Another part of Morality, Sancho, is self knowledge, to be sure not to forget thy Original, nor blush to own that thou com'st of a poor Lineage for when thou art not ashamed thyself no body will seek to make thee so, but if thou shouldst like the Frog, fancy thyself an Ox, thou art undone, for many hundreds now live that know thou wert at first but a Hog-keeper.  Sancho, 
That's true, Sir, but then, 'twas when I was but a Boy, for when I grew up to be Mannish, ● kept Turkeys and Geese, which is counted the better preferment by much in Spain, you know.  Don Qu. 
Well let that pass, in the second place, a Governor ought to take care to have an admirable Conscience; he must have a Conscience so very tender, that a Fly can't buzz upon't without making him squeak, it ought to sit straight and close to him, like a Thimble upon a Lady's finger, and not as 'tis customary, like a Jockeis' Boot that he can stretch which way he pleases, this will best appear in his impartial execution of Justice, and to avoid Corruption, or taking of Bribes which is so tempting, and withal so crying a sin, that there●s not one Governor in forty can forbear damning himself about it do what he can.  Sancho, 
Why then, Lord have mercy upon my Soul too, for to deal plainly, ● am afraid my fingers (as well as the rest) will itch damnably to be handling the money. Apart.  Don Qu. 
As to the manner of getting the Government, that piece of self-denial is generally smothered, for if thou hast the Conscience to think thou deservest it, 'tis thy own fairly if thou canst get it in Course: I could be somewhat Satirical upon thy parts now, but that I love thee Sancho, and therefore will desist; besides, to do thee justice, thou art not the first that has got a Government he was not beholding to his desert for.  Sancho, 
No nor shan't be the last, Sir, for desert is governed by fortune you know, and in a double manner, for if some were to have their true deserts, they would be Princes and Governors presently, and if others, again, were to have theirs,— Oons what an Army of Subjects here would be hang'd up in one Summer.  Don Qu. 
Well dear Sancho, for that saying thou deservest not only to Govern an Island, but an Empire: therefore to proceed briefly, because I see thy people wait, I'll come to the third good quality proper for a Governor, which is decency.  Sancho, 
I have an inkling, that that good quality will be as proper for me as any of the rest,— because I suppose it relates to cleanliness, good breeding.  Don Qu. 
Thou hast nicked it, therefore be sure to take care to pair thy Nails, and scour thy Teeth clean; and when thou sittest upon the Judgement seat, take special heed thou dost not Belch, nor Yawn, for those are beastly neglects, tho' too commonly used among our Modern Ministers of Justice.  Sancho, 
Why looke'e, Sir, as to Belching, though I learned it of a Stout Dutch Trooper that thought it became him very well, yet, I shall make no great matter to leave it off; but as for Yawning, 'tis impossible for me, Zooks, I can as soon leave off my Proverbs, and that you know were to unhinge all i'faith: why look now, your very putting in mind on't has set me at it already. Yawens and Gapes.  Don Qu. 
Oh, the Devil, what a Yell is there, for a Magistrate, but come, since I see Nature is not to be expelled with a fork, observe the rest, take heed of eating Garlic as thou hast used to do, for that will discover thy Course Extraction, and be nauseous to all about thee, for in that manner I once knew a Country Recorder that used to give poor Criminals double deaths, first by his abominable breath, and afterwards by his Sentence.  Sancho, 
That will be a plaguy hard Chapter too, for to my thinking a Clove of Garlick gives one's Dinner a curious hautgoust.  Shaking's head. Don Qu. 
Be sure always to walk Slow and Stately, and let the fullness and gravity of your look atone for the vacuum, and cavity of thy head; and lastly, above all to be sure to manage that beard of thine wisely, Scrub it, Sancho, Comb it, mundify the Whiskers, I say, that when thou waggst it on some great occasion, thou mayst scatter no Vermin upon those that occasionally come to thee for Justice: And so good fortune guide thee. Embracing.  Enter Pedro and Bartarians. Sancho, 
Well, Sir, I can but thank ye, you have given me a plaguy deal of good Counsel, if I have but the Grace to follow it; but come many ventures make a full freight, I'll do what I can, but especially for that about Garlic and Belching let me alone, and so, Sir, wishing ye to be an Emperor in the space of a whistling-time, we take our leaves. 
To feast and give our Islanders a Playday,  
And meet our Spouse, who now must be a Lady.   Pedro, 
and the rest. Long live the Governor of Barataria, Huzza.  Exeunt Sancho and Baratarians one way, and Don Quixot another, weeping  

SCENE III.  Enter Teresa, and Mary, new dress'd with Mannel. Marry, 
LOrd is this me, odslidikins, they have made me so fine, that would I were hang'd if I know whither 'tis me or no.  Teres. 
Well, and what's to be done next good Mr. Civility, what you have shown us already is cur●ou●●●fine i'fackins.  Mannel, 
Leave off that course, that Clownish word ifakins, and if you would swear like a Lady o'th' Mode, You must say by my Soul my Lord, by my Honour Madam, by the universe Cavalier, unless you are at Cards among yourselves, and then you may enlarge a little, as thus, SoonsI have had horrid ill luck to night, I have lost 50 quadruples, Dam.  Teres. 
Well that's very pretty by the universe Cavalier.  Marry, 
It has such a pure sound with it when one swears a little, and methinks the words Mother come off so roundly, that would I may never make water more, if I had not rather  Teres. 
O Lord, O Lord! there the Quean had it out broad, why ye clownish Jade, have I—.  Mannel, 
Hold, hold, good Madam, let me manage her, you must consider she is not yet weaned from her Country Dialect. Oh see Miss, you have said such a paw thing, that I warrant ne'er a one of the Town Ladies would have said for a Thousand pounds: Oh, you must not offer to say such a paw thing as that, nor do such a paw thing as that for the World, though ye are in never so great an extremity.  Marry, 
No, I cod that's very hard though.  Teres. 
Let me come to her, Sir; ' dlife this rude Hilding will spoil all our preferment.  Mannel, 
Oh, Patience, patience, Madam; she must come too't by degrees: Young Lady, I blame you not for speaking, but for the manner of it; therefore from henceforth, when you would express yourself on that occasion, if you are visiting or elsewhere, you must say, Dear Cousin, or Madam, I've an extreme desire to make a Natural Evacuation.  Marry, 
A Natural Evacuation! O Lord, that's pretty I swear.  Mannel, 
Oh, Modesty is the most darling Jewel amongst all well-bred Ladies, though it often occasions 'em distress enough too. I remember once at a certain noble Lord's Trial, a certain ruddy plump young Lady, died a green Manteau and Petticoat into a perfect Blue, through her rigid Modesty and the violent Effect of Natural Evacuation.— But come now, practise your gate again a little;— Walk, walk hold up your Heads— So, snap your Fans— Very good— Wag your Hips a little more— Admirable, Adroit and Easie— leave but off the Country hobble now, and I defy any Court-Lady of 'em all to outdo ye. They jig about.  Teres. 
Well, I swear, methinks I'm changed quite to another thing already.  Mannel, 
Oh, here's the Governor— I hear the Music. Loud Trumpets within.  Enter Sancho strutting, with Pedro and Baratarians. Marry, 
Oh, that ever I was born! is that my Vather?  Staring and clapping her hands. Teres. 
Ah, Blessing on the precious Eyes on thee, my dear Yoke-mate, my Sancho; and art thou then a Governor indeed, mine own Oosle-cock? She runs to embrace him.  Mannel, 
Oh, hands off, good Madam; such greeting is not decent in great Ladies. Takes her from Sancho 's Neck.  Teres. 
Gadslidikins I could smother him in that fine Coat methinks.  Marry, 
I must speak to him; he looks like one of the great fat Men they call Judges, that used to ride so purely through our Town— Oh brave Vather! Oh brave Father! is●t you, Vather? is't you? Oh Law! oh Law! jumps and laughs.  Sancho, 
Ha, ha, ha, ha; the poor Fools are almost crazed through mere Joy; 'tis well, Spouse; mine, 'tis well: but not too much of fondness now, good Crooked Rib— and Daughter, mine, take care of Romping: Remember who I am.  Teres. 
Ah, dear Gravel-face, dear Ferret-eyes. Leering at him.  Mannel, 
Madam, Madam, you forget.  Marry, 
I am my Lord the Governor Sancho Panca's most humble Servant, upon my Honour; and would I may ne'er make after if Mannel stops her.  Sancho, 
Well, said Mary the Buxom; that's my good Girl, hold thee there, Moll.  Teres. 
And I am his Lordship's every thing; his hot Loaf and Butter, Suet-pudding, his Pancake, by the Universe.  Mannel, 
Pretty well, that, Madam, indifferent.  Sancho, 
'Tis very well good Mousetrap in me, 'tis very well; and you see I have been as good as my word; I told ye what my Squireship would come too, Teresa; but you would not believe, you would be obstinate: A Woman, a Woman.  Teres. 
I was under some little doubt, my Lord; by my Soul, I must confess. Speaks mincing.  Mannel, 
Very well, that last, Madam, extremely well.  Marry, 
I would have laid a Groat I should have had no new Lockram Smocks of your giving me Vather— not this—.  Mannel, 
Aw, not a word more of that; 'tis well he do▪ s not hear ye.  Sancho, 
Here's Dapple too; come along with me, Chuck; the poor Ass, on my Conscience, is as glad of his Preferment as thou art; I'd have brought him in here, but that we should have wanted an Elbow-Chair for him to sit down in.  Mannel, 
There▪ s an Alcove within with a State and Velvet-cushions, my Lord  Sancho, 
No, no; 'tis no matter now, though the Creature is good Company enough: Faith, he's trapd so richly, you'd wonder if you saw him: he▪ s all over Embroidered like a High Sheriff of a County upon an Entertaining-day.  Pedro, 
Please your Excellence to sit and rest a little, for I'm of Opinion that this sultry Climate bears no Affinity with the Choler of your Complexion, especially when irritated by Motion: Excuse me, my Lord, 'tis my duty to be careful of your Constitution, which I perceive at present to be somewhat languid and sudorous; be pleased therefore to sit, and see the Sports that are provided to entertain ye.  Sancho, 
Ay, with all my heart; and d'ye hear Doctor? Prithee let me have as few of your cramp words as you can, for they'll work more upon my Constitution than any Dose of Pills you can give me. Come family of the Panca's, set down by me, and let's see these Sports he talks of, and afterward let's go to dinner, for I feel a kind of a governing stomach, that methinks grumbles to be satisfied: I could eat heartily.  Pedro, 
Good my Lord, think not too much of Eating, 'tis very unwholesome.  Sancho, 
How! Eating unwholesome! prithee honest Gut-scowrer, persuade me to that if thou canst: Ha, ha, ha, that▪ s a very good Jest, faith  Sancho Teresa and Mary sit down, than Music sounds, and an Entertainment follows of Singing and Dancing: which ended, a Table is brought in furnished; Pedro and Mannel wait, then is a Dance of Spinsters. 

A SONG  Sung by a Clown and his Wife. Herald 
SInce Times are so bad, I must tell thee, Sweetheart,  
I▪ m thinking to leave off my Plough and my Cart;  
And to the fair City a journey will go,  
To better my Fortune, as other folk do:  
Since some have from Ditches,  
And course Leather-breeches,  
Boen raised to be Rulers, and wallowed in Riches.  
Prithee come, come from thy Wheel;  
For if Gypsies don't lie,  
I shall be a Governor too, ere I die.  She. 
Ah, Collen! by all thy late doings I find  
With sorrow and trouble the Pride of thy Mind;  
Our Sheep now at random, disorderly run,  
And now Sundays jacket goes every day on:  
Ah! what dost thou mean,  Herald 
To make my Shoes clean,  
And foot it to Court, to the King and the Queen,  
Where showing my Parts, I preferment shall win.  She. 
Fie, 'tis better for us to Plough and to Spin;  
For as to the Court, when thou happen'st to try,  
Thou'lt find nothing got there, unless thou canst buy;  
For Money the Devil, the Devil and all's to be found,  
But no good Parts minded without the good Pound.  Herald 
Why then I'll take Arms,  
And follow Alarms,  
Hunt Honour that nowadays plagueily charms:  She. 
And so lose a Limb by a Shot or a Blow,  
And curse thyself after for leaving the Plough.  Herald 
Suppose I turn Gamester;  She. 
So Cheat and be banged:  Herald 
What think'st of the Road then?  She. 
The Highway to he hanged.  Herald 
Nice Pimping however yields profit for 〈◊〉▪  
I'll help some fine Lord to another's fine Wife.  She. 
That's dangeorus too,  
Amongst the Town-Crew,  
For some of 'em will do the same thing by you;  
And then I to Cuckold ye may be drawn in,  
Faith, Collen, 'tis better I sit here and Spin.  Herald 
Will nothing prefer me? what think'st of the Law?  She. 
Oh! while you live, Collen, keep out of that Paw:  Herald 
I'll Cant, and I'll Pray;  She. 
Ah! there's nought got that way▪  
There's no one minds now what those black Cattle say:  
Let all our whole Care  
Be our Farming affair,  Herald 
To make our Corn grow, and our Appletrees bear▪  2 Voices. Ambition's a Trade, no Contentment can show; She. 
So I'll to my Distaff,  Herald 
And I to my Plough.  CHORUS. 
Let all our whole Care  
Be our Farming affair  
To make our Corn grow, and our Appletrees bear.  
Ambition's a Trade, no Contentment can show;  
So I'll to my Distaff,  
And I to my Plough.   Pedro, 
How does your Excellence like the Entertainment? do our Music and Sports please ye? Enter a Carter.  Sancho, 
Yes, yes, I like your Sports well enough;— but here's a Sport that I think at present surpasses 'em,— Gad there's a rare Turkey, and I've a furious Inclination to be familiar with him. How now!  Carver goes to cut the Turkey, and Pedro strikes the Dish with a Wan, at which the Waiters snatch it away. Pedro, 
By no means, Sir, 'tis hot, undigestible, and corroding; the Flesh of that sort of Fowl, are highly pernicious to a Constitution that abounds with Choler: You must excuse me, Sir, I am stipended in this Island to take care of its Governors, and study day and night to prescribe a Diet proper for 'em. Teresa takes a Comfit, and Mannel snatches it from her.  Mannel, 
You must not eat yet, Madam; 'tis ill Manners; the Carver has not helped your Lord.  Teres. 
By the Universe that's true: Well, Sir; pray excuse me, I shall remember better another time.  Marry, 
O Lord, how my Chops water at one of them fat Birds there!  Mannel, 
Young Lady, keep your Elbows off the Table: Oh fie, 'tis highly indecent.  Sancho, 
Well then; Prithee honest fellow, hand hither one of those Partridges; those, Doctor, are harmless Meat I'm sure.  Pedro, 
Oh horrible, this plaguy Cook has sent 'em in blood-raw; the Rascal has peppered the Sauce too, as if they were to feed a Jew— away with 'em quickly: 'Sdeath this Rogue ought to be hanged, he'll poison the Governor in two days time. Dish snatched away.  Sancho, 
Poison him! no, gadzooks he's in more danger of starving for aught I see.— Come, prithee what Mannel this while is teaching the Women to behave themselves. must I eat then? Quickly, quickly man, and done't square my stomach by thy own; give me a good hearty Collop of something that's warm and good, and done't judge me by thyself; thou look'st as if thou hadst fed upon Smoak all thy life-time.  Pedro, 
Oh, that's very well, Sir: Jesting is wholesome, and I am glad to find your Excellence so disposed; 'tis more nourishing for ye then any Meat that I see here: Reach me that Dish there, friend.  Teres. 
Is it always the Custom, friend, for the Governors to have thy hungry Preamble before Dinner?  Mannel, 
Ever, Madam; the Doctor very often makes a Speech upon Temperance an hour or two long; 'tis the Custom.  Marry, 
The Devil take the Customs then, I say; for I'm damnably sharpset.  Pedro, 
Look ye, your Excellence may Gives him a Dish of Wafers. Regale upon these with safety till better provision be ordered; and, Madam, these are light too, and of good digestion for governor's Ladies: but for any thing else here.  Little Dishes of whipped Cream are brought in. Sancho. 
These, Oons why a hundred of 'em wont fill a man's Mouth: Why, ye plaguy Paracelsian you, d'ye think I can dine upon Paper?  Marry, 
Or I upon Froth.  Sancho, 
'Sbud give me a Glass of Wine there, I shall choke with Rage else: What a plague is the meaning of this?  Pedro, 
'Tis Death for him; therefore I charge ye all forbear upon your Lives, till I have corrected it: Let me see the Glass. Takes the Glass and prepares it.  Sancho, 
Why ye damned Son of a Glister-pipe, must not I drink neither?  Pedro, 
Not till I have allayed the Assid quality of the Wine, my▪ Lord, and made it agree with your stomach; if you should be sick, alas, 'tis as much as my place, nay, as my life is worth; therefore it behooves me to be exceeding careful: you are inclining to a Hectic, my Lord, hot and dry, and too strong liquours will infallibly destroy the Humidum Radical.— There now, I think I may venture it.  Sancho, 
Oh, confounded Potion-maker, this is mere Water, the very liquour of Frogs, gadzooks— Hark ye, what is your Name, friend?  Pedro, 
Sir, I'm styled Doctor Pedro Rezio de Agnero, I am a Native of Tirte Afuria, which lies between Caragnel and Almodona del Campo, and took my Degree in the University of Osuna.  Sancho, 
Why then Doctor Pedro Rezio Agnero of Tirte Afuria, and Graduated in Osuna, take that (throws the Glass at him) and get you out of my sight, or I'll throw my Chair at your head: who, ●e Commonwealth's Hangman, let me eat, or take your Government again with a Pox t'ye; for an Office that wont afford a Man his Victuals is not worth two Pilchers. Exit. Pedro.  Mannel, 
Oh, my Lord, Passion is very unbecoming a Man of your Place: pray have patience, 'twas the good Man▪ s overmuch Zeal to serve you.  Sancho, 
Here's another too, a mannerl Coxcomb, that preaches Patience to me, when I am ready to be starved— Gad I'll rid my Island of such Vermin as you quickly— you shall know that a Governor must eat in defiance of ye all, Rogues: Come, Spouse, fall on; I'll have this. They snatch and eat ravenously.  Teres, 
I this.  Marry, 
And I this: But first, friend, I've great occasion for a little natural Evacuation. Aside to Mannel.  Enter Messenger. Mannel, 
'Dsheart not at Dinner time, Madam! that were such a plaguy indecency▪  Messenger, 
My Lord the Governor, Your Excellence is stay'd for in Council, where are to be debated some Matters of great Moment; on must come away immediately.  Sancho, 
How now, jack Sauce! must come away! Soft and fair goes far; after Dinner is time enough.  Mannel, 
By no means, my Lord; stay not a minute, I beseech ye; the Council will take it so heinously to neglect 'em at your first coming, that I fear on such an occasion they'll rise and mutiny; therefore 'tis extremely proper your Excellency should go instantly, your Supper shall be mended, and atone for this to your satisfaction anon.  Sancho, 
Why this 'tis to be a Great Man now; when I was poor Sancho, the devil of any Mutineers had I occasion to be afraid of; but now Cares and Dangers crowd on apace: Come, Teresa, we'll take our amends anon; and, d'ye hear, let my Supper make me satisfaction without Doctor Pedro Rezio's direction; for if I find him here again flirting my Dishes, or squirting Advice, Gadsbud I will begin with a Cudgel upon him, and so on, till I leave ne'er a Physician in the Island.  Exeunt Sancho, Teresa and Mary. Mannel, 
Ha, ha, ha: Go thy ways, Governor; this will be rare sport to send my Lord the Duke an account of, which I will do instantly, and tell him how methodically 
Great Sancho learned in nought but Carts and Ploughing;  
Rules without Power, and Judges without knowing.   Exit.   

ACT V.  

SCENE I. The judgement-hall.  Enter Page, Mannel and Pedro Page, 
I Assure ye, Gentlemen, my Lord and Lady were extremely pleased with the last Acco●nt you sent 'em of your new governor's Actions; we had the story every night at Supper, and with so much laughing, that an old Philosopher, plagued with the Spleen and Gout, could hardly have forbore. I am now dispatched hither upon a new design to further the Jest; I have brought the Grand Sancho a Letter.  Mannel, 
Ha, ha, ha: So, dost know the Contents on't, prithee?  Page, 
Oh, each particular, my Lord Duke read it to us in public; 'tis a terrible Scroll, and pretends to discover some Enemies that have laid a Plot to attack the Island; 'twill try the governor's courage, for here's horrible frightful news in't. Here, Doctor, you must give it him, I must back to my Lord again immediately.  Pedro, 
Ha, ha, ha; this will, no doubt, have the designed Effect, especially surprising him, now in this juncture; for we have kept him these three days so hungry, and so little in heart, that he'll be frighted with the least shadow of danger.  Mannel, 
This is the best place to give it him too, for he's just now coming hither to hear Causes.— But, Page, prithee how thrives the Jest at home? how does the uncurably maimed Don Quixote behave himself after the Loss of his Right-hand, Sancho, hah?  Page, 
Why, faith, so lamely, and the Jest grows so stale now, that my Lord Duke begins to be weary; and therefore to get rid of him wittily, and send him home to his House, he designs a new contrivance for me to Act; what it is as yet I know not; but I suppose, by that time the Squire-Governour trots from his Island here, the Knight-Errant will be moving the same pace homewards.  Pedro, 
It must be very suddenly then, for the upshot of our Government is drawing on apace, the Mob will soon be prepared for the Jest. And see, here comes the Pageant— 'dslife and the Petitioners too.— Now if any one can laugh at Clumsy Justice, they may have a rare occasion: I must not be seen yet.  Page, 
Nor I. Exit Pedro and Page.  Enter Sancho, Constable and Watch, and Cryer, with Tailor, Gardner, Canter, Small Man and a Woman: Sancho sits down in the Chair. Cryer, 
Oh, yes! Let all manner of person or persons that come not hither for Justice, keep Silence; and let those that would have their Grievances redressed, express 'em boldly, for the Governor is prepared to hear 'em.  Sancho, 
He is prepared as far as hunger will let him; and though I have observed myself to have much a clearer Judgement upon a full stomach than an empty one, yet since they say spare diet and fasting whets a man▪ s Understanding, I'll try for once how wise 'twill make me. Come, friend, what▪ s your Complaint now, humph?  Taylor, 
Why, and please your Honour, my Name is Snip; I am a Woman▪ s Tailor, and a Man that the Parish knows to be a Man that is not a Man, who, as a Man may say, will willingly let a Man, though it may chance a Man may be deceived with fair Looks; yet, as your Honour knows, who are a Man.  Sancho, 
Who am a Man that is like to know very little of your business at this rate, friend: Come, come, your Complaint Mr. Snip, your Complaint▪  Taylor, 
Why, your Honour must know then that my Complaint is against my Neighbour Radish there the Gardener, who has feloniously, not having the fear of Heaven before his Eyes, taken from me and defrauded me of a tame Cock-Pheasant, which I brought up by hand, and upon which I set an extraordinary value; yet this ravenous Cannibal laid violent hands upon the poor Bird, carried it home to his Wife, roasted it; and had I not come just in the Nick and hindered ●m, they had devoured it immediately.  Sancho, 
Umph; and what say you to this, Radish, hah?  Taylor, 
He, he can say nothing, my Lord; for look, to prove what I say is true, I have brought the Pheasant here along with me, poor fool, just as I snatch'd it out of the dish from 'em. Puts the Pheasant on the Table. And now since no proof is plainer than sight, I desire your Honour to do me Justice, and make him give me satisfaction.  Sancho, 
By my faith, and nothing but reason, Mr. Snip; What, what an Enormance is here; what can you say to this, Radish, hah? is it your Conscience to come into a Neighbour's house, and steal away his Goods and Chattels; for his Pheasant in this place is a Chattel.  Taylor, 
Nay, I had not valued it so much, my Lord; but, to say the truth, the Creature was my Wives, and the poor Woman was always stroking and playing with it.  Sancho, 
Gad 'tis a delicate tender young Bit; Sancho touches it and licks his fingers. are not you a Rogue for this now Radish, to purloin and filch in this manner; it has an excellent taste, faith: must paltry Diggers and Delvers eat like the Gentry? Oons, with a little good sauce too't, this were a Dish for a Governor.  Tears off a Leg and eats it. Gard. 
But, pray will your Honour hear me a little now; One man's Tale is good till another's is told: This Nitty Jerkin here, this Thimble, this Bodkin, this Cuckoldly Woman's Tailor, Snip, here.  Taylor, 
Why how now ye Dunghill-raker, ye old rusty Pruning-knife, ye Maggot in a Peascod, ye Caterpillar: What, ye won't deny it, will ye?  Sancho, 
Oons, is not here a plain proof? what, you won't deny a plain proof, will ye, Rascal? Speaks with his Mouth full.  Gardn. 
Ay, but pray do but hear me, my Lord, for yet you don't know the trick on't: for you must know this Snip and I used commonly to go to one another's Houses, and jestingly snatch away several sort of things to eat and drink, I from him, and he from me, 'twas common among us; and particularly t'other day, I had a curious Flask of Florence sent me for a Present, by a friend that I used to accommodate with Fruit, of which, through neighbourly Courtesy, I gave Snip and his Wife a taste.  Sancho, 
Well, what then? Go on go on; let him go on, Snip, let him go on; Gad I never eat a better thing in my life.  Speaks with his mouth full. Aside. Gardn. 
Now, what do these cheating Companions do, being resolved to have the rest of my Wine, but come t'other day to my house; and whilst his Wife, who pretended friendly to cut my hair, put my face in her Lap, this sneaking Louse-snapper, Snip here, ran away with the Flask; for which, knowing no other way to be even with him, I yesterday made my Attack upon his Wive's Pheasant.  Taylor, 
Why, ye Inoculating Rascal, dare you say 'twas Florence, hah?  Gardn. 
Yes, that I dare, cucumber; and to prove it to your face, that I mean what I say, I have here another Flask of it, which was just now sent me by the same person. Sancho takes the Flask.  Sancho, 
Nay, look, Snip, take heed of Lying; I don't sit here to see Justice abused; and if this be really Florence, look toost, Snip. Drinks.  Taylor, 
Besides, if it were, I think I han't been behindhand with ye; you have been free to every thing in my house Time out of mind; it had a damnable sour taste I'm sure; and whatever you say, I can't think 'twas Florence, not I  Sancho, 
What can't you think, Pimp-whiskin? what can't you think? 'tis Florence, I say 'tis Florence; and Snip, you're a— What a pox sure, I can't be mistaken. Drinks again.  Mannel, 
The Governor has made himself amends for his fasting as it happens: But what will the Judgement be after all, I wonder? Aside.  Sancho, 
Ay, ay, Florence; 'tis Florence. I knew I was right; and are these things fitting for Gardeners and Tailors? fat Pheasants and rich Wines food for such Vermin? I am inrag'd at it; I burst with Choler.  Mannel, 
How will you please to punish 'em, my Lord?  Sancho, 
Punish 'em! Oons, I know not how I shall punish 'em: but since they have made a practice to steal from one another, 'tis plain each of 'em keeps a House to encourage Thievery, and 'tis likely, in short time, may practise upon others as well as themselves; therefore I condemn 'em to pay ten Ducats apiece to the Poor, and from henceforth to be upon their good behaviour— not a word more— away with 'em— They shake their heads, and are thrust out.  Mannel, 
Bring the rest forward there. Const. brings a Man forward.  Sancho, 
Well, Mr. Constable, who have you got here?  Const. 
Why, and it please your Honour, a strange hypocritical kind of Rascal, that formerly we knew to be a common Cheat and Thief; but of late he has taken up a Trade of Canting and Devotion, which we all believe only to be a Blind, that he may manage his old profession the better; for last night we took him up upon suspicion of stealing a Velvet Cloak.  Sancho, 
To cover his Knavery withal: Very well Mr. Constable; Well, and what say you to this, Cloak-Merchant, hah?  Canter, 
Why verily, I may not deny to thy Superiority; but that in my Pristine days of Vanity and Youth, I was a great Sinner, before the Spirit of Grace had entered into me; nay, with shame I do confess it to thee, oh Governor.  Sanch, 
Take him away then and hang him, there's no more to be said.  Canter, 
Aw, but I will tell thee what I am now; let me plead, I beseech thee.  Sancho, 
Oons, what, after Confession? ' Should, antony's it confess and be hang'd all the World over? What an impudent fellow art thou! Gadzooks, I'll not spoil such a curious Proverb to save ne'er a Canting Rascal in all Spain— Away with him, I say.  Canter, 
Ah, Mercy, mercy; Ah, woe is me. They drag him out.  Const. 
This is the worst Confession, friend, you have been at a great while.  Sancho, 
Come, come, for more, for more; I find my Judgement much clearer now than at first: Well, woman, what say you?  Woman, 
Ah, I have many sad things to say upon my honesty, my Lord; I'm an undone person, I am cracked, I am violated, or, to speak it in plain terms, I am Ravished as one may say. Weeping.  Sancho, 
Alas poor tender young thing, that look'st as if thou hadst been hardly put too't indeed: but where, where is this mighty Gogmagog that has done it? he must be of the Race of the Giants sure.  Woman, 
No, my Lord, 'tis not so much for his largeness, as for his strength and ability: this is the vile Man, Points to a very little fellow. my Lord; this is he that, as I may say, has abused my body like an unwashed Rag.  Sancho, 
The Devil he is; What a plague, did he attack thee upon Stilts?  Small M. 
My Lord, your Honour shall know, that there is not such another Impudence as that Woman in all Spain: I met her upon the rode this morning, and I know not how the Devil ordered the matter, but I found a small Ambition in me of boarding such a huge tall Pinnace; and so we agreed for half a Ducat about the matter; and upon the finishing of the business, I pulled out my Purse, in which I had about twenty more, and paid her honestly.  Sancho, 
Nay, thou seem'st to be an admirable finisher of such a business: Well, go on, friend.  Small M. 
Now you must know, my Lord, this plaguy Quean, seeing my Purse better stuffed than she thought, pressed me to give her more▪ which I refusing, as soon as I came to Town, she swore a Rape against me, which now occasions my appearance before your Honour.  Woman, 
Oh vile Creature, oh thou slanderous Monster; the guilt of whose lying Soul equal thy prodigious strength of body; Canst thou think to be believed, against my tears and protestation? No, no, wretch, the noble Governor understands Justice better.  Sancho, 
Alas, good Woman, don't afflict thyself so: Look'e friend, Finisher, there must be more in this than ordinary— Have you that Purse about ye?  Small M. 
Yes, my Lord, here it is.  Sancho, 
Give it me, friend, and we'll make an end of this business presently: Come hither, Woman; you say this prodigious strong fellow here forced you against your Will, and you struggled and defended yourself all you could, hah?  Woman, 
Yes upon my honesty, my Lord.  Sancho, 
Very good; then to let thee see how much I value honest Women, whose weaknesses are often unwillingly o'ercome by such monstrous fellows, there, there's that Purse for thee; and to make thyself amends for the wrong he has done thee, get thee gone with it. Throws her the Purse.  Small M. 
Oh, good my Lord, if you take that, I'm utterly undone, 'tis all I'm worth.  Woman. 
Ah, blessing on your Honour's sweet face, you're a heavenly Judge upon my honesty, and I shall pray for ye the longest day I have to live:— Ah, Gad save ye, ye are an upright Magistrate in troth. Exit.  Small M. 
Oh Lord, I'm ruined, I'm lost, 'tis all I have got this two years by hard labour, and I han't a penny more left in the world to help myself. Oh, that ever I was born. Howls out.  Sancho, 
Sirrah, you prodigious, you Finisher, leave your bawling, and gather up your Legs, and run after her as hard as you can, and force away the Purse from her, and bring it hither to me.  Small M. 
Oh, I'll do what I can, but I fear 'twill be a hard matter for the Jades as strong as a Horse. Exit after her.  Sancho, 
I begin to perceive that this Island of mine is very full of Enormities, which will require a plaguy deal of trouble to weed out; a Fool always sees more in his own house than a wife Man in another's, if they will be Rogues, let 'em look too't. How now, see how they agree about the business without there. Noise of shrieking, and scuffling within.  Exit Constable, and reenters again with the Man and the Woman fighting; he tattered and beaten. Sancho, 
How now woman, what's the matter now.  Woman, 
Why this impudent Fellow my Lord, contrary to your Honour's judgement, has followed me, and would have taken the Purse away from me again by force.  Sancho, 
And has he got it.  Woman, 
No I warrant ye, he get it, 'dslid, I'll tear his eyes out first▪  Sancho, 
Give it me hither, let me see if there's none missing; She gives it. there Fellow, take your Purse again: and d'ee hear Constable, bid the Beadle give that honesty there two hundred Lashes.  Woman, 
Ah mercy upon me, what means your Honour.  Sancho, 
If you had defended your honesty as well as you did the Purse ye Whore, you need not have feared Ravishing: away with her, and d'ye hear you finisher, if I catch you finishing in such another affair, I shall put an end to you with Halter, and so with a Quibble thrown at your head, get ye out of my sight too Sirrah.  Exeunt Man and Woman with Officers. Cryer, 
Mannel and People, A Solon, a Solon! Huzza.  Sancho, 
Come, is there any more of ye, hoh, gad my hand is in rarely for business ever since the Cause of the Flask, and the Pheasant. Aside.  Enter Pedro hastily. Pedro, 
Room, room here, where's my Lord the Governor?  Mannel, 
There he is Doctor, what●s the matter?  Pedro, 
Arm, arm, Sir, you are not safe this Minute, here's news now come, that several thousand of Buccaneers, Pirates and Banditty have entered your Island: here's a Letter sent too from the Duke to give you information, you must prepare for your defence immediately; there 'tis, pray read it and let us hear the Contents of our condition.  Sancho, 
Humph, Tirte Aufuria, art thou here again, then there can be no good towards me I'm sure, the spightful-Rogue bids me read it too, and he knows I can as well do that as fly. Here, you Secretary, let's hear what this matter is, come read out, from another mouth I can Judge the better on't.  Mannel reads the Letter. 
Signior Sancho,  
I am given to understand that certain Enemies of mine, and of that Island, mean suddenly to give it a furious Assault: I know likewise that several Spies are entered there with design to kill you, for they stand much in awe of your great Abilities; take care of yourself and Charge, and I will be ready to send you what Succour I can.  
Your Friend The DUKE.  Pedro, 
Oh, unfortunate Estate of this unhappy Island, that because of its Wealth and Fertility is perpetually plagued with Enemies, who bear a mortal spite to all those that rule; those damned Banditty and Buccaneers have taken and flayed three or four of our Governors already.  Sancho, 
The Devil they have.  Mannel, 
The noise comes nearer, they are certainly entered my Lord, therefore come away quickly and Arm, and be our General, to lead us against the Enemy.  Sancho, 
'Dslife, I know no more what belongs to a General, than a General does to Cow-keeping: you knew my abilities well enough, and if you had not liked 'em, you should have told me so, and have taken your Government again, for if I am to be flayed about it, I have made a fine bargain indeed.  Mannel, 
'Dslife, they'll come upon us before we have taken up our Arms; but it never shall be said that I stood tamely and saw so famous an Island lost: I'll go and defend the Gates as long as I can against 'em. Exit Man.  Pedro, 
And I'll go and prepare a certain Poison, and squirt it into their Eyes with a Syringe, through the loophole of some private Avenue. Exit.  Sancho, 
Squirt at 'em, said he; ay, if that would drive the Enemy away, I am as well prepared for't as any body; but these Buck— Banditti Rogues I warrant carry Guns with Leaden pellets, that will make no more of a governor's noddle, than if 'twere made of Pasteboard— Hark, they are coming still— this your Ambition has brought you to Don Sancho; you must be a Governor with a murrain t'ye, you Plough-jobbing Rascal, you. Noise of Drums, fight and shouts.  Enter Teresa and Mary in their old Clothes. Teres. 
Oh that ever I was born; Oh, undone, undone, lost, ruined.  Marry, 
Oh Vather, the saddest day that ever was known, my Mother and I have been plundered and stripped yonder, the Men with the black Whiskers and Buff-Coats yonder have rouzled and frouzled us so, that they have left ne'er an inch of us unhandled— Oh Lord, and one of 'em snatched so furiously at me to get off my vine Petticoat, that udslidikins I thought once he had got away all.  Sancho, 
Here one may see now, the true Emblem of fallen Authority; here's the Countess and her Daughter metamorphosed already.  Teres. 
Countess! Ah shame on't, thought what my Countessship would come too, if we had not saved our old Clothes by chance, we had gone home to Spin again as naked as ever we were born.  Mannel— within. 
Make this breach good, keep that gate there, raise those Ladders, fire the Pitch and Rozin, and get some Kettles of scalding Oil ready.  Pedro— within. 
Bring out the Governor, we know him by his Robe; deliver him up, we'll make a Truce, for here are a hundred of us have sworn to Roast him and Eat him for Supper.  Sancho, 
Oh, Gadzooks, for Supper! Sancho trembles.  Teres. 
D'ye hear that, thou wretched Man? Come away quickly; down the backway here, there's a close Walk to the Garden door may yet secure us.  Marry, 
Come away Vather, come away; Oh Lord, when shall I be married now, I wonder?  Sancho, 
Nay if like an Ermine I am so known by my Skin, e'en take it among ye, faith * Strips from his Robe.; if you would have the Musk-cats fee too, I should hardly stand out if I thought you hunted me for that; but there●s no disputing the case now, you must fly, Governor; and if you save your Bones by the loss of your Jacket, 
Thank Fortune that did safe through Dangers carry  
Earl Sancho, from his Land of Baratary.  Exit Sancho.  Enter Mannel and Pedro Mannel, 
Ha, ha, ha, ha; they are gone, the whole Nest are flown.  Pedro, 
Here's the Robe of Authority left; the poor Snake has cast his Skin through fear.  Mannel, 
Come, now let's make haste to the Duke, I know he longs to hear of the Comical Exit of the Governor.  Pedro, 
Let's give the people a Hogshead of good liquour to make merry with, for playing their parts so well, and then take horse and away.  Mannel, 
Oh, I warrant ye they shall want no tipple, I have given order already. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Cardenio and Ambrosio. Carden. 
NOT see this famous Combat? prithee, in what old rotten Tree or Tod of Ivy hast thou been lurking? 'dsdeath thou givest thyself over to moroseness and melancholy of late— A pox, when once a Man of Letters comes to be mopped, he grows a Coxcomb, and not fit for a friends Conversation.  Ambros. 
Prithee, I gave no heed to the flying report; I heard indeed that a new-come Errand, that called himself the Knight of the Screech-Owl, had challenged Don Quixote to Combat him about the Beauty of their Mistresses; but I thought it only a Romantic Jest, and could not imagine it would have gone further.  Carden. 
If the Duke had not caused one of their Lances to be blunted unknown to him, it had gone further assure you; but as the Tilt was now, our famous Don here was only vanquished, by being overthrown from his Horse, and by that was obliged to perform any Injunction the Knight of the Screech-Owl should impose upon him.  Ambros. 
And who is this new doughty Knight, prithee?  Carden. 
Nay, that as yet is a Secret; but his Commands are, That Don Quixote shall retire to his House, and bear no Arms for the space of one whole year— This, according to the Conditions of the Combat, he is punctually to perform, and the Duke and all are just coming hither to entertain the new Knight, and see the business ratified.  Ambros. 
Why this will certainly murder Dox Quixote with grief; he'll ne'er be able to have patience— How now, Winter-pippin; what news bring you? what Smock-stratagem or Curtain-intreague are you labouring with now, hah?  Enter Rodriguez. Rodr. 
Ay, you're a cruel hard-hearted Wretch, to use a poor young thing as you have done her without there: she's come after ye again, i'faith, and as mad as a March-hare: A shame on her shallow pate, it should be long enough before I'd have cracked my Brain for ere a one of ye.  Enter Marcelia, Mad. Carden. 
By all that's good, Marcelia— And now I remember me, I heard indeed she was run Mad for Love: What a barbarous fellow art thou to destroy a whole family at once!  Rodr. 
Well then, there's an end of 'em: prithee let me go.  Carden. 
Not yet, by Heaven; thou shalt hear her speak.  Marcel. 
'Twill be to night; the God of Love has promised me, he'll bring him to me in his Mother's Chariot, drawn by white Doves, and with her Breath perfumed: there lies my dearest crowned with fragrant Roses, vigorous and young, and charming as a Deity. Ha! what do I see! The dear Man turned to a Dragon! See! see! his Mouth and Nostrils breathing Flames that sing my veins and scorch my heart to Cinders.  

A SONG, at the Duke's Entertainment, by St. George and the Genius of England:  Sung by Mr. Freeman and Mrs Cibber. Mr. Freeman. 
GEnius of England, from thy pleasant Bower of Bliss,  
Arise and spread thy sacred Wings:  
Guard from Foes the British State,  
Thou on whose smile does wait  
Th' uncertain happy Fate  
Of Monarchies and Kings.  Mrs. Cibber. 
Then follow brave Boys to the Wars,  
The Lawrel you knows the Prize;  
Who brings home the noblest Scars,  
Looks finest in Celia's Eyes.  
Then shake off the slothful Ease,  
Let Glory inspire your Hearts;  
Remember a Soldier in War and in Peace  
Is the noblest of all other Arts.   Rodr. 
Alas poor crack-brained Creature!  Ambros. 
Devil—  Carden. 
'Sdeath, hast thou no human Nature? does it not trouble thee 〈◊〉 see her thus?  Ambros. 
To see her thus! why now she's in her Kingdom; her darling Mischiefs now have gathered head, and riot in her Brain: Oh, take this from me, friend; when once a Woman's mad, she's in perfection.  Marcel. 
What, is he going? nay then farewell dissembling— all female Arts and Tricks begone, avaunt, and let the passion of my heart lie open: Turn, turn thou dearest pleasure of my Soul, and I will bathe thee with my Eyes fond Tears; lay thee upon my Breast panting with Love, and speak the softest words into thy Ears that ere were spoke by a kind yielding Maid; kiss thee with eager Joy, and press thee close, close to my heart till I am lost in transport, and am for that short time a Deity.  Ambros. 
'Dsheart the Duke's coming too; prithee take her away, dear Rodriguez— I'll get thee a Husband for't one time or other.  Marcelia sings. 

A SONG,  Sung by Marcelia. 
I Burn, I burn, my Brain consumes to Ashes;  
Each Eyeball too, like Lightning flashes:  
Within my Breast, there glows a solid Fire,  
Which in a Thousand Ages can't expire.  
Blow, blow, the Wind's great Ruler;  
Bring the Po and the Ganges hither,  
'Tis sultry, sultry Wether;  
Pour 'em all on my Soul,  
It will hiss like a Coal,  
But never be the cooler.  
'Twas Pride, hot as Hell,  
That first made me Rebel,  
From Love's awful Throne, a cursed Angel I fell:  
And mourn now the Fate,  
Which myself did create;  
Fool, fool, that considered not when I was well.  
Adieu, adieu, transporting joys,  
Off ye vain fantastic Toys,  
That dressed the Face and Body to allure;  
Bring, bring me Daggers, Poison, Fire,  
For Scorn is turned into Desire;  
All Hell feels not the Rage which I, poor I, endure.   Rodr. 
Ay, hang ye; ye all promise for one another, but you never care to come too't yourselves— Well, not for that, but to get some Remedy for the poor Creature; I'll do't for once: Come Bird. Exit.  Marc. 
Bird, right; thou art the bird of Night: Come, I'll go with thee; by thy broad Face and toothless Gums I know thee, and that hooked Nose that shades the Stump remaining, thou art Grimalkin— Who, who, who— Come along, Bird. sings. Exeunt Marcel. and Rodr.  Carden. 
Well, if thou art not strangely punished for this, I shall wonder.  Ambros. 
Pish, prithee no bantring▪ See the Duke and Company.  Enter Duke, Duchess, Luscinda, Don Quixote unarmed of his Sword, and without a Helmet▪ Page, armed like a Knight, having a tawny Mask on with large black Whiskers, and a Buckler, whereon is painted a large Owl: Squire with a Lance and Slipper. Don Qu. 
Vanquished, because my Horse fell— Oh rigorous Laws of Chivalry! must my hard-got Renown, purchased with Danger, be poorly lost through Rosinante ●s weakness? My Courage still stands fast, though he is fallen: I beg the Combat once more, I'll fight him in my Shirt, with a Dutch knife set sharp as any Razor.  Duke, 
Oh, it must not be, friend; the Laws of Knighthood are, you know, inviolable: besides for you, the Quintessence of Errants, thus rashly to recant your own agreement, will be a flaw in your Renown for ever: Therefore take heed, not a word more of fighting.  Page, 
What, does he murmur? does his high-flown Vanity think he's disgraced to be o'ercome by me? Ha, noble Don, is't so?  Duke, 
No, no: Valiant Sir, the Knight is highly satisfied in being vanquished by so brave a Warrior— Look up quickly and seem pleased, for this damned Knight of the Screech-Owl, now his hand is in, will worry us all else— 'dsheart what a terrible voice he has.  Page, 
The Devil worry him and his Voice too, 'tis a very Screech-owl's to me indeed.  Dutch▪ 
Courage is not disgraced, though 'tis unfortunate; and though Don Quixote is battered and o▪ re-thrown, he's valorous as ever.  Lusind. 
And when his year of Penance is passed o'er,  
Again may cudgel, and be cudgelled more.  Carden. 
One may see by his Looks, that his pate is plaguily harassed about this business. Aside.  Ambros. 
Oh, the whimsical Worms are all now at work— Ha, ha, ha. Aside.  Don Qu. 
Damned fortune, thou inconstant treacherous Strumpet, hast thou then served me thus?  Duke, 
Mum, mum, Sir; the Knight of the Screech-Owl observes ye.  Page, 
Sir, I perceive you do not grace my Conquest with that clear brow, that Aspect of Contentment my Valour has deserved, but seem to lower and grumble; and your fortune, as if you thought my Chains disgraces to ye— Ha, speak thou conquered, art thou so presumptuous?  Dutch. 
Oh, by no means Sir, the Knight was always a person of few words; and as to the Moodiness of his Phiz, 'tis natural to him; I dare say for the Knight of the ill-favoured face, 'tis not in his power to mend his Looks.  Lusind. 
Besides, here being no occasion for mirth, some gravity is becoming.  Page, 
Could I but think my easy penance given him extorted frowns, he soon should know my power. Blood of the Heroes, did not I in Arragon, o'ercome the proud Don Guzman de Alvero, who being my Slave by a just right of Conquest, I made his Neck my footstool to mount my horse by, nay, over the parched Plains forced him to carry a Sack of Barley for his provender; nor was that all, for when at night we rested, to show my Power and punish his Ambition, I made him wash my Shirts and mend my Stockings.  Don Qu. 
This is the very devil— Oons I tremble every inch of me. aside.  Page, 
And if I thought this Shrub, this Mushrom-Errant durst mutter discontents, or look as if Tobosian Dulcinea excelled my bright Castara de Vandalia, I'd set him instantly to stitch my Boots, and grease 'em with the Oil of his own labour.  Card. 
Say something quickly to him to mollify; stitching of Boots is but a scurvy employment.  Don Qu. 
Lord Sir, what need you be so choleric, I said nothing of Dulcinea that ● know— Oons he has so cowed me with his plaguy Voice and his confounded Whiskers, that I can't get out a hard word for the heart of me.  Ambros. 
Ha, ha, ha, his heart's quite sunk, the blustering of the Screech-Owl has bullied him clearly.  Duke, 
Come noble Warrior, be pleased to sit down a little, and to show how much we prize all Knights of your brave Order; I'll beg ye to let my Servants show their duty in a Musical Entertainment.  Page, 
Your Grace is generous; and to show my gratitude, I dedicate thus far of my sharp Sword to you, and yours for ever; the rest is bright Castara de Vandalia's— Come I'll sit down, you Sir, stand by and wait. To Don▪  Dutch. 
Oh, not so, I beseech ye Sir; for my sake let him sit with us.  Page, 
Your Grace shall then prefer him: sit down. They seat themselves.  Don Qu. 
Ah plague on your Whiskers— I'm in an Ague still.  

A Dance here of the Seven Champions, than a Song  by St. Dennis. 
DE foolish English Nation,  
Dat former Conquest brag on;  
Make strange a Discourse  
Of St. George and his Horse,  
And de Murdering of de Dragon:  
But should the French Invade 'em,  
And boldly cross de Water,  
How de Williamite here  
Vowed trembla for fear  
Of de Jack grand Roy, mon Maitre.  
You boast of your Fifth Henry,  
Dat once in France did Forage;  
But to answer dat same  
Do but read Notre dame,  
Garzoon will cool your Courage:  
Our Gold will take your City,  
Tho' Fighting never can get one,  
Veel 〈◊〉 Salsbury-Plain  
Bring on Millions of Men,  
D'en— Wheiw— vere is Great-Brittain.   Page, 
As much, my Lord, as can be possible for us that carry Arms to like soft pastimes— I am obliged for this; and that ● may, when your occasions offer, be grateful to my power, be pleased to Command Alonzo de Bubone of Castille, your Grace's Champion, you soon may find me out, my Lord, by fame: besides, I'm of a family numerous and ancient, the Owls at Court are my relations all— City and Country throng with the Bubones, and 'mongst the Priesthood and the dagled Law are Numbers of Screech-owl's; in Honour of whom 
This ample form ● on my Buckler place,  
And wear it for the Glory of my Race.   Dutch. 
We are his Greatnesses, the Knight of the Screech-Owl's most humble Creatures.  Duke, 
And now, brave Sir, I hope all animosities betwixt you and your noble Brother here are forgot: Come, I must have the honour to reconcile all matters; he has resolved to obey your Command, and retiring home, and bearing no Arms for a year; and you, according to the Conditions of the Combat, in honour can demand no more.  Page, 
I am not limited, my Lord; and I must tell your Grace, there is another small Injunction, which in obedience to the Laws of Chivalry I must impose and he must execute: 'Tis this, my Lord; that since the Peerless Castara de Vandalia has influenced me with Conquest; and he adores the conquered Dulcinea; he therefore be obliged to wear that precious Rellick my Squire has there; which is, that fair ones, Slipper, during his Truce from Arms, and Year of Pennance—  Duke, 
Oh▪ that he shall do most Ceremonially. Duke puts the Slipper on Don Quixote.  Carden. 
'Twill look like some new kind of Order, and give him good occasion from thenceforth to call himself the Knight of the Order of the Slipper: that once performed, he's free.  Don Qu. 
Well, I see now that wise Man was in the right, that said Valour was a Virtue between two vicious extremes, Cowardice and Temerity: I'm in the snare, and I must get out on't as well as I can; make Laws and keep Laws, as Sancho used to say when his Mouth run over with Proverbs: And therefore since 'tis my fortune, I will travel home with my new Order here as patiently as I can: And so farewell t'ye all; nay, let no one touch me, nor speak a word more, for my heart's too full to bear any Complementing; and as low as my stomach is brought, I could eat that roaring Knight up methinks if it were not for his Whiskers: but since 'tis as 'tis, let Fate bear the blame on't, whilst I▪ 
This long Year study to wipe off my stain;  
The next, in glittering Arms, shine out again.  Exit.  Duke, 
Ha, ha, ha, ha; farewell poor Knight-Errantry, you must know I have been weary of the mad fool of late, and so contrived this trick to send him home to his house to be cured.— And now Signior Don Alonzo de Bubone, be pleased to veil your Whiskers.  Carden. 
The Page, as I live, the Rogue altered his voice, so I did not know him.  Dutch. 
Ha, ha, ha; nothing could be acted better indeed: Well Sir, my Lord Duke shan't forget your diligence.  Page, 
One of the Servants told me in a whisper just now▪ my Lord, that your Grace may now have an account of Sancho's flight from Barataria, for the Steward and the Doctor are just come from thence.  Duke, 
Oh come then, 'ss in, that story will be very grateful at dinner: Cousin, I have a small affair with you too, but this is no time to chide: besides, I hope you will satisfy me in some passages I heard lately of you, which seem to blast your Virtue and Reputation: I must have a Minute to confer with you about it.  Ambros. 
With all my heart, my Lord.  Lusind. 
I have heard of your humour, Sir; and I hope my Lord Duke will punish thee, for refusing poor Marsella, thou inveterate Woman-hater.  Dutch. 
Come my Lord, Methinks I long to hear how the Countess Teresa, and her Daughter Mary the Buxom, behave themselves in their change of fortune.  Carden. 
Very Comically, no doubt, Madam, and must certainly divert when your Grace comes to hear their several Histories.  Duke, 
Which, to relish our Meat and Wine the better, I intent shall entertain us presently; amongst the rest of diversions, there are two that are always very recreative, which are a fool in Person, and a fool in Character; the fool in Person, we have just now had a Scene of; and as to the fool in Character, 
The Governor not being now before ye,  
You must content yourselves with Sancho's story.   Exeunt omnes. 
FINIS.     

THE Comical History OF DON QUIXOTE. The Third Part. WITH THE MARRIAGE OF Mary the Buxom.  
Written by Mr. D'Urfey  
Non omnes Arbusta juvant humilesque myricae.  Vir. 
LONDON, Printed for Samuel Briscoe, at the Corner of Charles-street, in Russelstreet, Covent-Garden. 1696.  
Where is also to be had the Songs, set to Music by the late famous Mr. Pursel, Mr. Courteville, Mr. Aykerod, and other eminent Masters of the Age.   

To the Right Honourable Charles Montague Esq one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, Chancellor of the Exchequer, and one of His Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council.  
SIR,  
THough I know your Character is adorned with so much Goodness and Humility, that it could dispense with, and excuse even such a presumption as a Dedication of the following Piece, yet I must with Modesty decline such Pretensions, and own, That tho' its innate Defects are not so obnoxious as are supposed, yet its public Misfortune has so lessened its Reputation, as has made it uncapable of deserving such an Honour.  
My whole Extent of Ambition than is, having this Opportunity of the Press, (instead of it) most humbly to dedicate myself, a Presumption perhaps little inferior to the other; nor can I forbear to bring you what all the rest of my Tribe do to Indulgent Patrons, viz. an Inconvenience— whilst Poetical Impertinence attends the good Offices you do, and Generous Condescension and Good Nature creates your Trouble.  
But Sir, be pleased to remember however, That you are the Cause of this Inconvenience— Had you been less affable and obliging, I had been more timorous and modest. Had your eye shot the haughty Austerity upon me of a right Courtier, great in Dignity and Office, mine had quickly been dazzled and had seen no farther; nor had your valued minutes ever been disturbed with dilatory Trifles of this Nature; but my Heart, amongst the rest of the World, on dull Consideration of your Merit, had supinely wished you Prosperity at a distance, that now, warmed by your Influence, and embolden'd by your Smiles, can be contented with nothing less than laying itself at your Feet, and pretending to the particular Honour of your Favour.  
Condescension to grant Admittance, and Generous Will to do good Offices, are rare Virtues in Great Men at Court; and he is fortunate whose Dependence there answers his Expectation. But when a Poet's happy Stars guide him to one who not only is glad to meet occasion to befriend him, but that eagerly seeks it out, who though continually fatigued with great Employments in the State, and hourly busied in the noble Service of his King and Cuuntry, yet will generously spare a few Minutes from public Affairs to do an humble Suitor a good Turn; one that never entertained such a one without a welcome Smile, if he could effect his Desire, or a good natured, courteous and modest Dismission, if he could not: One that, tho' a Courtier, never forgot his Promise, but perpetually gives the World occasion to own his Word as sacred as his other Virtues. 'Tis to a Maecenas like this my Heart devotes itself; 'tis him it will admire; nor is it possible for me to suppress its Ambition.  
Now Sir, since every discerning Judgement must allow this to be your Character, be pleased to pardon me, who write it as a plain Truth, not as Praise, but your undoubted Due: For I dare no more pretend to praise you, than presume to equal your Wit or other Excellencies. My Design is only gratefully to acknowledge and publish to the World how much I am obliged to your Virtues, without lessening their Value by my unnecessary Applauses.  
Amongst all good Qualities that seem Praiseworthy in human Nature, the most proper and most reasonable is Gratitude; and amongst all persons, on whom for Benefits received there is a Duty Incumbent, I, Sir, an most obliged to own my Acknowledgements to you: for never had any one less Opportunity to deserve your Kindness, nor ever had any one more generous or hearty Proofs of it. And since 'tis decreed that my humble Fate will permit me to express my Gratitude no other way than by Expression, Thanks, and verbal Acknowledgement, That, Sir, whilst I live be pleased to believe you shall hourly receive, large and unbounded as your Generous Intentions to me.  
Amongst all your numerous Favours, be pleased, Sir, to let me own the first, (which shall eternally grow to my Heart and Memory,) which was your sending for me to introduce me to The late Adored Queen of ever Glorious Memory: Of all whose gracious Smiles on me, enriched with Royal Bounty, you and your good Lady, my ever honoured Patroness, were the happy Causes. When Majesty, like the Sun, shone with a Heavenly Influenee, you took care to plant me in the View, and gave me the Opportunity of receiving the Grace that followed; nor did you stop there, but afterwards made me known and honoured me with your good Word to most of the principal Nobility, the true Patrons of Poets and their Art, by whom I have not since been forgot, and whose Favour is a certain Fortune to any Son of the Muses. And this most generous and uncommon Grace, Sir, when I cease to remember, or fail in point of Duty, you may certainly take it for granted, I am ceased to be at all.  
And now Sir, That my Ambition may know its bounds, and soar no farther, let me beseech you to accept of this Dedication of myself and Duty; and likewise be pleased to receive this Trifle of a Play, tacked to it to divert you a Minute, when such a space from Business will permit: For I am not ignorant, no more than the rest of Mankind, of the troublesome Diligence your Zeal for the King and your Country exacts from you, the Care of your great Charge and Offices, or of the Envy your Virtue raises in ill Men; yet I am confirmed it cannot possibly turn to your Prejudice, but that as you was an Honour to the last Parliament, you will still be acknowledged so to this, and raise your Reputation yet higher, (if possible) to an Eminence equal to your Merit; whilst I with Pride fix my Fame at its Ne plus ultra, in bearing the Title of,  
SIR, Your most Humble, and most Devoted Servant, Tho. D'Urfey.   

PREFACE.  
I Had not troubled the Reader with a Preface, did I not find it extremely reasonable to vindicate myself a little, as well as the ensuing Sheets, against the unnatural Mistakes, 〈◊〉 judgement, and Malice of some part of the Auditory when this Play came upon the Stage: And as I will not defend the faults which with justice and unbiased Opinion it is taxed with, so on the other side I will not be run down without defence, when perhaps I can prove the cause of its miscarriage not to be through its own defect, (as 'tis generally believed) but occasioned by the ill nature of an inveterate Faction, and some unlucky accidents happening in its representation. In the first place therefore I must inform the Reader, that this Third Part before it came upon the Stage was acknowledged and believed by all that saw it, and were concerned (as well those that heard it read, as those that were Actors, who certainly, every one must own, are in their Affairs skilful enough to know the value of things of this nature) to be much the best of all the Three Parts; of which Opinion I must also confess myself to be, and do not doubt, that when it is impartially read and judged, to find many more to join with me in that belief.  
But as all Dramatic Pieces that depend upon Humour must receive their good or ill Fate from the good or ill Humour of the Audience, this it seems had the 〈◊〉 to meet with the latter; and tho prepared by my indefatigable Diligence, Care, Pains, nay, the variety which I thought could not possibly miss the expected Success, yet by some Accidents happening in the Presentment, was disliked and exploded; The Songish part which I used to succeed so well in, by the indifferent performance the first day, and the hurrying it on so soon, being straightened in time through ill management— (though extremely well set to Music and I'm sure the just Critic will say not ill Writ) yet being imperfectly performed, was consequently not pleasing; and the Dances too, for want of some good Performers, also disliked; all which, though impossible for me to avoid, and not reasonably to be attributed any way to a fault in me, yet the noisy Party endeavoured to use me as ill as if it were, till the generous Opposition of my Friends gave me as much reason to thank them for their Iustice, as to despise the other's Malice.  
I must confess when I heard the Ladies were prejudiced about some Actions and Sayings in Mary the Buxome's and Sancho's Parts, I was extremely concerned, not that I was conscious to myself I had justly offended, because I know no other way in Nature to do the Characters right, but to make a Romp speak like a Romp, and a Clownish Boor blunder out things proper for such a Fellow, but that I should in doing this unfortunately have 'em counted nauseous and undecent, and so disoblige that Essential part of the Audience which I have always ' studied with so much Zeal to divert in all my former Plays with Innocent Mirth, Scenes of Decency and Good Manners.  
In exposing Humour, some Course Sayings will naturally happen, especially in Farce and Low Comedy and 'tis some sort of Excuse for me that I can affirm A jest adapted to the Genius of the Pit bearing some little distant Obscenities and double Ente●ders, has passed currently in all the Comedies of the past and present Age, though I have now the ill Luck to be most detected; I am sure, offending in that nature is much against my design of pleasing; and I have through Nineteen of the Twenty Plays I have writ, always studied to shun it as much as I can, for my own particular satisfaction, as well as to oblige the Nicer part of the Audience.  
As to the Poppet Show in the Fourth Act, the Accident of its being, placed so far from the Audience, which hindered them from hearing what either they or the Prolocutor said was the main and only reason of its diverting no better; and as I cannot blame an Audience for finding fault on such 〈◊〉 occasion, so I desire my Impartial Reader and judge to weigh in the refusal of it whether I have not done my Part, and whether that Scene is not wove in properly with the rest of the History, and more likely to give satisfaction than any of the rest, though it unhappily succeeded otherwise; As for those that call it Bartholomew-Fair Stuff they, I'm sure, never digested Don Quixotes History, or at least that part of it where the Poppet Show is presented, that Passage being, as I always thought, and as a Noble Person of as much Honour and Wit as any that pretend to judge of these Matters, was pleased to allow is the most Material Extravagant Foolery that ever Don Quixote was guilty of throughout all his Whimsical Adventures, and therefore most proper to be inserted in the Play. To finish then▪ as it is the most difficult undertaking that can be to find out new Humour to please in so Critical an Age as ours is, so 'tis some pleasure to me to know, that my severe judges cannot hinder me from the Reputation of having diverted them for several years together in spite of their own ill Nature: A hard task indeed,— And amongst Men of Sense and justice, one would think should exact a modest hearng, if once in Seven years a Play should fail in diverting, especially when Accidents are the Material Cause,— but since that blessing is not to be expected by a Poet, nor the Modest Method of the old Romans at all proper to be an Example to our Critical and over-witty Britain's, let Folly and ill Nature vent its Spleen till its own unreasonableness makes it nauseous to the World. Obliged with the kind Indulgence and Instruction of some few Superior judgements, I will contentedly sit down, and say to all the others, as a famous Wit once said before; 
Let but some few, whom I omit to name,  
Approve my Work, I count their Censure Fame.    

PROLOGUE  Enter Mr. Horden. Hord. 
THrice on one Subject to employ a Muse,  
'Tis owned has very seldom been in use.  
Yet thus far I the Poet's Cause pursue;  
Suppose one had a Mistress fair and true;  
Is three times Visiting so much to do?  
Don Quixote like a Beauty that ne'er clo●d,  
Should charm anew, though twenty times, enjoyed.  
Thus for the Author then most humbly praying—  Enter Miss Cross. Miss C. 
Hold Mr. Horden, hold, what are you saying▪  
If it be any thing of Prologue nature,  
Know I am come to help ye in the matter.  
Come, make your Honours, and begin again;  
You are to court the Ladies— I the Men.  
Come, come, your Bow— your Speech too, quick and short.  
Lord, you're so dull methinks—  Hord. 
Lord, you're so pert.  Miss C. 
Your Love to th' Poet sure is wondrous small.  
Why, you say nothing—  Hord 
— Because you say all.  Miss C. 
I must say something, if you wonnot speak  
Toth' Ladies; come, what offers can you make?  Hord. 
Faith, I can offer nothing that they'll take.  
The Poet must excuse me; I can't prattle,  
Nor ask 'em aught— unless to drink a Bottle.  Miss C. 
— A Bottle— Are good manners quite forgot?  
Is that a thing to ask the Ladies— Sot?  
Are Ladies proper to be so Harrangued?  Hord. 
Why not—  Miss C. 
Incense should smoke where Beauty's Beams do shine,  
The Mistress of all hearts, a Power Divine.  Hord. 
Every one in his way— a Bottle's mine.  Miss. C. 
Nay, than I see 'tis an Affront designed▪  
For which henceforth I'll Banter all your kind,  
Praise a pert Coxcomb's awkerd Shape and Air,  
Tells b'Chesnut coloured Spark he's wondrous fair▪  
Admire a third, whose Coat 〈…〉 grey,  
Looks like a Miller on a M●●●e● day.  
Or his, 〈…〉 Flanders comes,  
With something Sleeves that reach down to his 〈◊〉  
Commend Pue's Foot and hand, another's Nose.  
I'll have ● thousand Tricks to feel the Beans.  
Show 'em by dancing what to Art belongs;  
Or if that fail, I'll charm 'em with new Songs:  
And thus I'll draw 'em to the Play in Throngs.  
I will but throw 'em out my Hook and straight  
Shoals of Male Gudgeons nibble at the Bait;  
Some by Diversion of my Voice— and some  
In Expectation of my Prime to come.  Hord. 
Why then you think—  
Your Interest with the Sparks i●●●●drous strong.  Miss. C. 
Yes: What think you—  Hord. 
— Child, th' art three years too young.  Miss ●. 
Perhaps as much too young, as you too good;  
Yet 'tis as I would have it understood.  Hord. 
Nay▪ I confess thouart planted in a place,  
Where, like a Mellon underneath a Glass,  
The Towns warm Beams soon Ripeness will produce.  
No Hot Bed like a Playhouse for that use.  Miss C. 
Think what you please I'll follow Virtue's Rules,  
And keep my Melon close from Knaves and Fools.  
And now, to turn out of this 〈◊〉 way—  
Be pleased but quietly to bear the Play,  
Then if you can laugh, you shall do't to day.  Hord. 
Why, that's well said, my D●●●— So let's away.  Exeunt.  

EPILOGUE  By Mary the Buxom. 
WEll, Gentlefolk, I dare now Wage a Crown,  
You take me for the veriest Romp in Town—  
But e'er I part from ye▪ I'll let ye see,  
There's other Molly Buxomes besides me.  
More Hoyden's, that as awkered Gambols show:  
I'll warrant Forty in that upper Row to the Gallery.  
Icod, perhaps too, Forty more below. to the Pit.  
They're just like Hens; They'll be amongst the Cocks.  
Let's see, is ne'er a one in the Side Box?  
Yes— There's a Swinger— by you Bully Rocks.  
Then let me look in th' Places too foreright.  
Humph! strange; I think there's ne'er a one tonight.  
Each of 'em thought I'd paint her for a Blouse;  
And so they're gone, Icod, to t'other House.  
Gadslidikins! What would I give t'have showed  
You, Errand Knights a Romp in a Commode.  
For if the Truth with Reason may be spoke,  
One may be found among the Gentlefolk;  
Who, though she gravely does to Visit come,  
Will ●●ap upon the footmen's Backs at home.  
The Country Wife too, she that comes to town,  
To see her King, and buy a tawdry Gown.  
Goes to a Play, there hoydens with the men,  
Cuckolds here Spouse, and so Romps down again.  
Here too about the Streets they swarm like Bees;  
And all the Nation round, through all Degrees:  
From the Court Velvet Scarf, the Gay and Witty,  
To her that slabbers Custard in the City:  
From thence back here again to Bulking Betty.  
And so good night. 'Tis time to end my Ditty.  Exit.  

Don Quixote. Mr. powel. 〈◊〉 Mr.. North. 〈◊〉. An accomplished Gentleman, but poor, 〈◊〉 to Quitteria. Acted by Mr. Horden. Camacho. A jolly fat-headed Farmer, very rich, but very dull and ignorant, given by her Friends for a Husband to Quitteria. Acted by Mr▪ Bullock. jaques. A clownish Country Fellow▪ Hind to Camacho, and to be married to Mary the Buxom. Acted by Mr. Pinkeman. Carrasco. A Bachelor of Salamancha, Friend to Basilius, learned, drolling, brisk, and witty, and perpetually bantring Don Quixote and Sancho. Acted by Mr. Verbrugen. 'Gins de Passamonte, Peter. alias Master of the Puppet-show. Acted by Mr. Lee. Charlemagne. Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Marsilius. Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Orlando. Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Don Gayferos Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Melisendra. Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Bishop Turpin. Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Guards and Retinue. Puppets, designed to be Acted by Children. Carter to the lion. Mr. Smeaton. Women. Quitteria. A young witty Virgin, Daughter to an old Gentleman of small Fortune, betrothed to Basilius, but forced by him to marry Camacho. Acted by Mrs. Finch. Dulcinea del Toboso. Mr. Smeaton Teresa. Sancho's Wife. Acted by Mrs. Power. Marry the Buxom. His Daughter. By Mrs. Verbruggen. Altisidora, Woman and Confident to Quitteria. By Mrs. Cross. Clowns, Musicians, Dancers, and Attendants.  
The SCENE, A Pleasant Meadow, near a Village.   

THE Comical History OF DON QUIXOTE.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Discovers a Cage with a Lion in a Cart, Don Quixote with his Sword drawn standing over the Carter kneeling; Carasco, Basilius, standing by, and Sancho upon a Tree near him. Don Quix. 
SLave, open the Cage, or die. offers to kill him.  Carter, 
Oh, Good Sir Knight be pacified.  Basil. 
'Dsdeath, Sir, are ye mad? d''ee know what you bid him do? Have you a mind to have us all torn to pieces?  Carras. 
'Dslife, I have cried up Knight Errantry to fine purpose, if I must stand by and see him and myself worried about it.  Don Q. 
Oh! good Sir Counsel-giver, if you fear that, put yourself in safety, and begone— Sirrah, open quickly, or I'll open your puddings with this. offers to run him through.  Cart. 
Oh Lord, Sir, the Lion has not eaten all this day, and is so hungry that he'll make no more of us than of so many Kittling— At three mouthfuls we shall be in his Puddings ourselves, Sir.  Don Q. 
Cowardly Villain— Dog, Dog, do it, or— offers again.  Cart. 
Well, well, Sir, I will, I will— Oh▪ that ever I was born! What will become of me—  Basil. 
Nay, if my Counsel has no better Effect, e'en let your Donship fight your Battle by yourself; if you are for duelling of Lions, you had best get an armed Rhinoceros for your Second; for my part, I'm for no Tilts with these fourfooted sharp-phanged Antagonists, so will prudently withdraw.  Carras. 
And I— This is no time for bantring. Exeunt.  Don. Q. 
Poorness of Spirit! How I look down upon 'em— Of all the Passions plaguing weak Humanity, the basest sure is fear— Come, Fellow, hast thou done?  Cart. 
Done! yes, yes, Sir, time enough, Sir, time enough Done!— sbud, where shall I save myself?  he unbolts the Cage, and runs and gets upon another Tree Don Q. 
The General of Oran sends not this Lion, as thou hast said, ●oth ' King; but some Enchanter sends it to try me— to prove my Courage and undaunted Soul— He shall be satisfied— Sancho, where art thou?  Sanc. 
Here, here, Sir, here, 'oons where speaks out of the Tree, should I be? I intent to be no lion's meat to day, not I— And d'ye hear, Sir, pray take my advice for once, and let him alone; you see he says nothing to you, but as the Proverb says, though the Bear be gentle, don't bite him by the nose— Sweet Don, let him be quiet, and come away.  D. Q. 
Dull Insect, that canst imagine to knock manly Resolution o'th' head with a Proverb: Come away! Alas, poor Soulless Wretch, what, from the Road of Glory, on which this third time I have made my Salley, to exercise the Function I was born for! No, no, Don Quixote stirs not from the Path of Honour, though hemmed with Lion's fiercer than that famed one that in th' Nemaean Vale was quelled by Hercules— Let me see, where shall I best attack him? Lions, to me, to me, your Lion; Whelps. Come all ye Enchanters, that have formed this Monster to try my Valour, bestride your fiery Dragons, and behold me; behold this hand tear from his hollow Trunk the bloody Heart, and dash it in your Faces.  Cart. 
on the Tree, Hark ye me, Friend, now I have got myself out of harms way, I don't care much if I spend another wise word or two upon ye: Therefore for your life, d'ye hear, don't meddle with his Throat, but get you packing if you intent to eat your Supper to night. Gadslidikins, there are a pair of Portculliss before it, that some Folk call Teeth, that will make no more to grind that Arm of yours than if 'twere a black pudding; therefore once more I say take care.  Don Q. 
Come forth, thou miscalled Terror of the Forest, and try if thou canst make me give thee ground. Men say thou art the King of Beasts; come forth, and show thy Royal Bravery; do it, and whet thy clawish Weapons keen to oppose my Force, and speedily, or I shall believe thee-not to have Courage proper for thy Bulk, but that like thy Diminutive, a Ca●, thou art only valiant in Confinement— Come, come forth, I say▪ The Lion turns his Tail to him.  Sanc. 
Oh! for Heaven's sake, Sir, don't go so near him; you see he turns his back side to ye, to let you see how much he minds what you say; therefore pray don't trouble yourself with picking his Teeth, nor challenging his Claws, for if one of those crooked Nippers should get hold on ye, the Lord have mercy upon ye for a Knight Errand.  Don Q. 
Ha! By Dulcinea's Life, the Monster fears me, and dares not meet the Lustre of my eyes— ay— 'tis so— 'tis now shown plain, his back parts tremble at me.  Cart. 
O Sir, pray hold yourself contented, he only shakes his Tail in contempt— and if you are wise, stand farther off; for if he gives ye a thump with the bunch at the end on't, he'll knock you as flat as a Flounder.  Don Q. 
By all my Fame, 'tis now as clear as Truth, my daring Courage has quite daunted him— Sancho, come down, and give him three Bastinadoes with a Cudgel to provoke him to come out.  Sanc. 
I give him three Bastinadoes— not for three Kingdoms Gadzooks, ay— Come Sir, too much Mettle is dangerous in a blind Horse: Content yourself with the thought that he dares not come out t'ye, and so the Victory is yours— And good Sir, put him to no further Trial  Don Q. 
I have challenged him fairly.  Cart. 
Ay, ay, Sir, we are both Witnesses of that— I'll coke's in with him, it may be he'll leave off, and I may save my Horses by't, aside that else would certainly be torn to pieces.  Don Q. 
Dared him, and boldly; and the Enchanter sent him.  Sanc. 
Ye have ye have, Sir, and we'll both of us give ye a Certificate that he has refused to answer ye.  Cart. 
'Sbud you have done wonders, Sir— and to stickle more in the business were only to tempt Providence as one may say.  Don Q. 
Fellow, thou'rt in the right, and I'm obliged to think my Honour satisfied: For as the Laws of Chivalry direct us, no Combatant is tied to do more than to defy an Enemy; if he refuse, he is discomfited.  Sanc. 
Right, right Sir; Odsheartlikins you never argued better in your Life-time— He speaks a little Sense now; pray Heaven it hold.  Don Q. 
Come down then, Friend, and shut the Cage— And Sancho, descend, and call to those that fled— come quickly— thou art so tardy in every thing. Carter comes down.  Sanc. 
Hold a little, good Sir, and let me but see the Pin in the door, and I'll be as nimble as an Eell in your Service; for perhaps the Lion, though he cares not to scratch the Hide of a lean Knight, may have a Fancy to chew the Cud with a plump Squire— Oh! now I think I may venture. Comes down, and Exit.  Cart. 
So, now all's secure again, and give ye Joy of your Victory▪ Sir Knight— for Gad's digs, little did I think to see that Madrid Face of yours look so cheerily by this time— But let it be as it is, you have done Wonders, as I said before.  Don Q. 
'Tis well, and there's a Ducat for thy Reward— Oh, the unvalued Virtue of true Valour: Well may Enchanters make me unfortunate, but of that Essence they can ne'er bereave me.  Enter Basilius, Carrasco, and Sancho. Basil. 
Though Sancho has told us how the business was, yet let's resolve to cry up the Exploit,  Carras. 
O as much as if he had quartered the Lion and eaten him. May Wreaths of Oak, the Meed of mighty Conquerors, for ever flourish on Don Quixotes head.  Basil. 
Thrice worthy, and eternally renowned, I congratulate your Victory. We hear the Lion trembled to behold you, nor durst accept your Challenge.  Don Q. 
Both these saw it.  Cart. 
Yes truly, the Beast's hinder parts shook like an Aspen Leaf, as the saying is.  Sanc. 
The truth on't is, he did wag his Tail very frightfully.  Don Q. 
The Enchanters therefore have not now prevailed: This is my hour, my Friends.  Basil. 
Still may it prove so, fortunate and happy. Embracing.  Corasc. 
Thou Soul, Heartblood, and Genius of Knight Errantry.  Don Q. 
Go, fellow, to Madrid, and tell the King Don Quixote did this Action, no longer now Knight o'th' Ill-favoured Face, but with new Title graced— Knight of the lion.  Cart. 
Very well Sir, When e'er I've occasion to drink a Flagon with his Majesty, I shall make bold to do your Errand; and so Good by t'ye. Ha, ha, ha, tell the King, said he— Ah Lord save thy crazed Pate.  Exit. Scene shuts. Basil. 
When I saw first the lion's flaming eyes, I could not think the Adventure was so easy.  Don Q. 
Ah— to a valiant Heart and resolute Will, nothing is hard.  Carrasc. 
I was confirmed, he would succeed— and do still prophesy that more and greater things shall court his Valour— But now Friend, setting this Discourse aside, I think it proper to inform the noble Knight of the Lion your Suit to him, which is to make one in the Plot to morrow at Camacho's Wedding, who is, by Compulsion of Friends, to marry with Quiteria, the rich Andrugio's Daughter. I suppose your Greatness has heard of the former Love between her and my Friend Basilius here.  Don Q. 
I have, thou Frog of Aganippe, thou Nursling of Parnassus, perpetual Delight of the Salamanca Schools, I have; and am well known too in his Worth and Virtues: I've also heard Camacho is a Dolt, a sordid Lump, a Glutton, that crams his Paunch, but that neglects his Mind, laughed at and scorned by every Man of Sense, not praised by any one but Sancho there, whose Brains are in his Belly.  Sanc. 
Ay▪ ay, say what you please of my Belly, or Camachoes either; he has refreshed me often with good Beer and Brews— and as far as a good Word or a Compliment goes, my Paunch and my Brains too shall be at his Service▪ Besides, he has sent for my Wife and Daughter from home, and offers Mary a good Dinner, who is to be married to morrow, and so to let both Weddings go as one. Come, '●is an ill Workman that quarrels with his own Tools. I wonder when my Master would have done as much for her.  Don Q. 
Why, Sancho, I did not think the Girl was prone to marry.  Sanc. 
Not prone! yes, and blown too; she's so ripe, she'd have fallen off the Tree with a little more shaking— Oh! yonder comes her Mother, and Gadzooks my Son-in-Law with her— I warrant they want me for something.  Don Q. 
Oh! 'Tis likely, therefore we'll leave thee to her. And now worthy Sir, to Basilius. be assured, That in any Action where Justice or Honour are concerned, though ne'er so dangerous, Don Quixote shall be foremost.  Basil. 
Spoke like the Star of Gallantry.  Carasc. 
Farewell Sancho; Whatever business employs us, we shall reserve a Minute to wish Mary the Buxom Joy.  Basil. 
Oh, that we must in course. Exeunt D. Q▪ Bas. and Car.  San. 
Ay, you may wish her what you please; but I'm sure I wished her hanged this morning; my wise Son-in-Law that's coming yonder will have a hopeful Bargain of her; she's the plaguiest Ramp, the veriest Hoyden, and, what's the mischief on't, grows every day worse than other. As I was looking up to the Sundial this morning, to see what a Clock 'twas, what does this heedless Quean do, but throws out of the Window a great Jordan full of liquour luke warm just into my mouth; Gadzooks, I was over head and ears, like an Ache-bo●e in a Powdering tub— But come, thanks to good luck she's going; this Fool will venture on her, and much good may she do him: He loves Mutton well that can dine upon the Wool. Marry your Son when you will, your Daughter when you can. And if Coxcombs went not to Market, bad Ware would not be sold— There's three Proverbs for her however; 'tis all the Portion she's like to have, that I know of.  Enter Jaques and Teresa. Teres. 
Come, Man, what have you been doing? I thought you'd have made more haste home, being you know to morrow is to be so busy a day.  Sanc. 
Doing? Why, conquering Lions, challenging wild Beasts, getting Honour, crooked Rib— a whole Cartload full.  Teres. 
Lions! What Lions, Fool?  Sanc. 
What Lions, Fool! I won't tell ye, Fool— Oh, Son in-Law, good morrow, good morrow.  jaq. 
Good morrow, Vather-in-Law.  Sanc. 
Well, and how go matters— How does your Spouse that is to be and you agree, humph?  jaq. 
Why, by Conscience I like the young Woman well enough; she's a thought too thick and squat, but when she's married, that Belly of hers will come down with working.  Sanc. 
How's that? Gadzooks have a care what you say; why, she had rather her Belly should get up than down when she's married, man: Not a word more of that good Son-in-Law.  Teres. 
Gadslid, I would not Mary should have heard him for a hundred Pounds. Clapping her hands I know the Girl's humour so well, that if she had heard him say that, she would never have endured him after.  jaq. 
Pshaw wagh, I did not mean jokingly, not I by Conscience; I warrant when she's my Wife, Mary shall have no cause to complain: And by Conscience I like Mary much the better, because I think she's a Maid; and for my part, I don't love a Pippin that other Folks have handled: Now, though she be a little unsightly sometimes, yet I believe Mary is a pure Maid by Conscience.  Teres. 
As when I bound her head first with a Biggin, I'll be sworn for her; besides, the Girl is mighty meekly minded, she'll not speak for Money, Meat, nor clothes— she'll soon think she has enough, I'll say that for Mary.  Sanc. 
Ah, the Devil's in that old lying Jade; 'oons the noise of 20 Powder-mills come not near her, if she want but her Bread and Butter in a Morning— aside Contrary to Womankind, Crooked Rib; for the Proverb says, a young Woman, a Priest, and your Poultry, think they never have enough— Ha, ha, ha.  Teres. 
So, old Sandy-beard, you have always some good thing to say of the Women still— but I'm sure you have no cause to prate, for you have had a good one; and if you did not like me because I was young when we married, you might have taken my Mother, she was old enough, and we both lived in a house.  Sanc. 
No, No, Matrimony, not so neither; one had as good eat the Devil, as the Broth he's boiled in: Besides, you were both so like, there was nought to choose. She had a Tongue like Thunder— and I think, Spouse mine, yours is not always as still as a Dormouse: Like Mother like Daughter, faith— and if the Mare have a bald Face, the Philly will have a Blaze.  Teres, 
Humph, will it so, goodman Garlick-eater— Hang ye, don't lie vexing me, but come your ways home, and help to sit our Mary; she's like to have her Shoes soled, and her blue Jacket edged with green, if you won't look after it, but stand Idling here.  jaq. 
Nay, pray be quiet now, by Conscience I must have a word or two more with my Vather in Law about Mary's good Parts; for I confess I like her mainly, because she's a 〈◊〉; I was 〈◊〉 to a Widow a while ago, but I would not have her; for besides that she was no Maid, she had four great Faults, she had three Children and a lame Leg.  Sanc. 
He that marries a Widow and three Children, marries four Thiefs. You have 〈◊〉 it a Scouring, Son in Law.  Teres. 
Well then, since you must have another Cup of Prate, I'll leave ye, and get me gone to Mary; the Girl must have some Colberteen Lace set upon her Wedding Smock: Bless me! what a do has there been about that Smock? Mother, she cries, are the Gussets big enough here? Is it sloped enough at top, and wide enough at bottom. I've had above a hundred Questions about that Smock: I warrant that Smock has been bleaching in her head above this two Months. Ex. Ter.  jaq. 
So, now she's gone, Vather, let's discourse a little more; for I've a huge Inkling to know a few more of Mary's good qualities. By Conscience I look upon Mary to have a notable Understanding, Vather-in-Law.  Sanc. 
Understanding; She can make a Pudding; that's as much Understanding as a Wife has need of.  jaq. 
Now if she be but virtuous— against which she has one wicked sign, your Nose, Vather-in-Law, for, to quip you with a Proverb too, one may know by your Nose what Mutton you love— I say, if she be but virtuous, and has but an eye to her honour as Gentlefolks call it, then all's right.  Sanc. 
Virtuous! Ay, I warrant her she's as virtuous as the Skin between her Brows; but you must not give yourself so much to Jealousy nor Doubt, Son-in-Law: He that's afraid of every Grass, must not piss in a Meadow; if you fear, why will you go to't, why will you marry?  jaq. 
Why, by Conscience I don't know; I go to't as other folks do, I think, for ready Pudding: Besides, Mary has such a way with her, such a jigging crumptious whim with her Backside, that she's as full of Temptation as an Egg is full of Meat, she has a pure stroke with her, fackins— Then, to say the truth, Mary's very well forehanded too.  Sanc. 
Forehanded— oons this Oaf makes a Mare of my Daughter.  jaq. 
We shall do hugely together; I'll set her to weeding in the Wheat the next day after we are married; she has curious spud Fingers to grub up the Charvil.  Sanc. 
Fingers! I think she has, and the nails of them are an Inch long for the purpose; she has not cut them this Twelvemonth, to my knowledge.  jaq. 
Then by Conscience she must help the Plough too a little now and then: You won't be angry if I documentize her, and make her a good Huswife, Vather-in Law.  Sanc. 
Angrly— ●o not 〈◊〉 prithee ●o●e her in with thy self, Tib, and Crookhorn, and the rest of the Oxen, if thou wilt▪ An 〈◊〉 Wife lets the Pig burn by the Fires when thou hast her, Boy, e'en draw together a gods-name.  jaq. 
By Conscience, and so we shall, for my mind gives me we shall do mighty well together; for 'tis odd to think how it came about, but ever since I saw Mary's Bubbies, as she was sitting without her Waistcoat at our Sheering, I have had a main Good will to her; by Conscience I have thought of those Bubbies I warrant above a hundred times; and things have grown up to a head, and put forward mightily since that time. Can Mary spin, Vather-in-Law?  Sanc. 
Spin! Oons, like a Spider, boy: Her Mother before her was as good at it as ever put Spindle between her legs.  jaq. 
Gadsdiggers— come away then; for I'll go presently, and get ready my Wedding-Tackle— and to morrow go to Church and say the words— and then at night, Vather-in-law— at night— oh Lord, ha, ha, ha, ha. Exit jaques.  Sanc. 
Ha, ha, ha, ay, at night; oh, poor Man— ha, ha, and yet she'll hold ye tack, if I don't mistake her, for all you're so crank; and so take this Proverb with you by way of Advice. 
If you an old Fleabitten ride, you need not fear the Dirt;  
But when you back a young Colt; See your Saddle be well girt?  Exeunt.  
The End of the First Act.    

ACT II.  A poor Cottage discovers Teresa and Mary sitting on Stools busy about making a Smock. Teres. 
HEre Mary, prithee thread my Needle, good girl, whilst I turn down this Selvidge here.  Ma●. 
Ay, come, let's see't. rises from the Stool And so, Mother▪ you say you had a main deal of Prate about me with Vather and my Man that is to be— hoh, hah, hoh, hah— What a dickens, I think I can't do't here.— I'm blind, I think, with living so long a Maid, hoh, hoh. D'ye think I shall thread it better to morrow, Mother? Hoh, hoh, hoh.  Teres. 
Ay, ye Jade, if my Husband's Proverb be true, that says Sweet Marjoram, and Marriage is good for the eyesight.  Mar. 
Hoh, hoh, hoh— there, now 'tis done Gives Ter. the Needle, and sits down again. purely. Well, and pray Mother let's hear a little; Icod 'twas rare stuff you talked, I warrant, if one had been by to hear it; for my Vather wont spare none of the broad Words when his hand is in, he'll not spice the matter, not he, Icod— And my Man, whar said he, I wonder?  Teres 
Who, jaquey, ha, ha, ha— why, I thought he would have bewatered himself for joy when I told him I was sure thou wert a Maid; he swore a great Oath he loved a Maidenhead better than Buttermilk, or a Sunday-Dumpling at the Parson's. Sewing as she speaks.  Mar. 
Hoh, hoh, hoh, Did he faith— Well, and good Mother, what said Vather then?— hoh, hoh— Hold, but stay a little— Icod you'll make it too narrow at bottom here; I shan't have half room enough, if you pinch it so in this place;— odslidikins, if it b'ant wide enough here, Mother, you spoil all.  Teres. 
I think the Girl is betwattled— why, Stands up, and shows the Smock. prithee do but see now— where's the pinching? odsdiggers 'tis wider than mine was, by a Foot and half.  Mar. 
Well, let me see now, I can tell to a barley corn if I measure; look here, from my left Thumb to my Nose is just measures the Smock. a Yard— Humph, Icod, I think 'tis pretty well— ay, ay, 'tis well enough— So. And now Mother pray go on: What said Vather then— ha?  Teres. 
Phoo, Pox take him, he stood choking himself with laughing at his own Proverbs, but ne'er a one of 'em on our side; I had like to have pulled him by the ears three times, as I'm a Christian.  Mar. 
Well, I think the Devil's in my Vather for that; he makes no more of a Woman, Icod, than of a wisp of Hay, he loves nobody but Dapple; on my Conscience and Soul he's civiller to that Ass, than to you, Mother.  Teres. 
Ah! '●is e'en too true, Marry; this plaguy Knight Errantry, a murrain take it, crams his head so, that the Man is, as I'm a Christian, I know not how besotted— so that he never thinks of Family matters, not he— I've had no Comfort from him this half year, Lord help me.  Mar. 
Icod that's very hard— There, come, now let's set on the Lace.  Teres 
And a married Woman's but a solitary thing without Comfort, Mary; if I had married Diego of our Town, as I might have done if I had not been a Fool, for he cast many a loving Sheep's eye at me, I had had Comforting enough, I had had my Belly full of Comfort then as I'm a Christen.  Mar. 
If my Husband don't comfort me when I've occasion. I'll make him a Cuckold faith— I'd do myself Reason, Icod. Hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh.  Teres. 
Ay Mary, in another Country now that might be; but in Spain here, the more's the Pity, a Woman can't do herself Reason if she would; if a Woman does herself Reason here, her Husband confines her presently— she's under Lock and Key the next minute.  Mar. 
O Lord! I understand ye; and that's a plaguy thing Icod.  Teres. 
Ah! well fare little England, odslidikins, they say there a Farmer's Wife, or such a one as I now, may have leave of her Husband to be sociable if she can make any advantage on't; she has no Confinement upon her; all things are open there; they lock up nothing there, but the Cupboard.  Mar. 
Why, that's a pure place then, I'll swear: but hold ye, what d'ye think, Mother, shall I put any Lace at bottom or no? you know I'm to be a great Lady Before I die: And now we are talking of England, I've heard there was one at London, near the Court I think they call it, that wore Lace thus long, and always took care to have it seen coming down Stairs, or going out of a Coach; and that the Fool her Husband—  Teres. 
Knew nothing of the matter, Moll, he never came so near my Lady, he knew nothing of the Lace. I'm sure.  Mar. 
No, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh, Icod that's good, he know nothing on't! why who should then?  Teres. 
Who, fool! why, some young Blade with long powdered curl'd hair, and a Patch on's Nose, that watched her motions— Why, Husbands have the least to do with their Wives there, Fool, of any folk, either to lie with, or to lead 'em there, is unfashionable and unmannerly.  Mar. 
Hoh, hoh, hoh— Well Icod, then that's a crumptious place I say again— and then Mother, there's a sort of Cattle they call Citizens, hoh, hoh, hoh; Icod, they say they don't get their own Children neither.  Teres. 
Why no, if they'll drive a subtle Trade, no more they must not, ye silly Jade; if they intent to be rich and be Aldermen, the Courtier must Cuckold the Citizen in course, then in course he gets into Debt, and then the Citizen gets his Estate for Satisfaction in course.  Mar. 
Hoy day! why, this is whirly curly murly, round about our Cole-fire, hoh, hoh, hoh, hoh— Icod, This is driving a subtle Trade indeed.  jaques 
within whistles, Holloa, Mother-in-Law, and my Flesh that must be, where are ye?  Teres 
Odslidikins— 'tis jaquey, he's come to call ye to Church, I'll be hanged else; I'll go and make an end of my Work within, and get things ready; in the mean time, be sure to coy it, and stand off, and niggle him purely, dost ' hear, Marry?  Exit Teresa. Mar. 
Ah! Icod, I'll niggle him so he was ne'er so niggled since his Mother▪ bond his head, hoh, hoh, hoh— Go, go, I warrant ye, Mother, let me alone with him.  Enter Jaques. jaqu. 
Why, how now, Flesh of mine, what no farther yet? Good Lord! now how comes this— Why, the what d'ye call't, scratching. the Can— the Can— the Canondrical Hour will be passed by Conscience: come, good now, don thy Jacket lightly, good Flesh of mine, don thy Clothes.  Mar. 
I can't don my Clothes Mary turns away and seems coy.  jaq. 
Gadsdiggers, Master Camacho and his Bride, and the Man in in the black, tarry for us; good now, Marry, go dizzen, and come away and be married lightly; good now do, Marry.  Mar. 
Pish, I can't abide to be married— I'm altered.  jaqu. 
Gadsdiggers, that's a good one by Conscience; not abide to be married▪ Was there ever one of thy Age that could not abide to be married— Pshaw, you must not say so, Marry; come buss, come buss.  Mar. 
Pish, I can't buss.  jaqu. 
Pshaw, you can buss, and you must buss; 'sbud, she makes me as hot as a Tost— What a devil ails her trow? Come, good honey Flesh o' mine, buse now.  Mar. 
I can't buss, I won't buss.  jaqu. 
Not buss!  Mar. 
No.  jaqu. 
Not Buss me at all!  Mar. 
No, no, no, no.  jaqu. 
Not at all? sings out of tune.  Mar. 
No, no, no, no.  jaqu. 
Nor go to be married?  Mar. 
No.  jaqu. 
Gadsdiggers, nor lie with me to night?  Mar. 
Oo— I'm ashamed.  jaqu. 
Ah, dear sweet honey Mary, don't say No— By Conscience I shall hang myself if thouart in earnest: Look here, I'll give thee this pure white Turnip, if thou wilt but buss and pulls out a great Turnip say I— Odsdiggers, you must go.  Mar. 
Nay, pish, I won't go.  jaq. 
You shall go.  Mar. 
Nay, fie— be quiet; O Lord, I can't go.  jaqu. 
Master Camacho will laugh me to death; I would not but be married to day for a hundred Pound.  Mar 
Nor I neither, Icod, for all my fooling. aside.  jaqu. 
Therefore, Gadsdiggers, come along, for I must buss, and I will buss: I must marry, and I will marry, and there's the Resolution of— pulls her out.  Mar. 
Well, I will, I will, I will, I will— What a-dikins ails the Man? Icod, you won't be so sharp set seven years hence. Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  Enter Don Quixote, Carrasco, and Sancho. Don Quix. 
SIR Bachelor, I have with care considered on each particular of your discourse; nor shall this Sword ever keep back its Aid, when Beauty, Wit, or injured Love's in danger— I am myself a Lover, learned Bachelor, and therefore doubly will assist Basilius. Sancho starts and stares at him▪ Sticho shall be my Second; he shall fight too, if there should be occasion.  Car●s. 
My Friend and I are doubly yours, heroic Sir.  Sanc. 
I fight! with whom must I fight, I wonder? Good Sir, doubt let your head run so much upon this Fighting Work: We are going to a Wedding now; and I see no Monsters that I should be engaged a Second to attack there, unless it be an Ox that's roasting yonder;— And I'll attack that presently, with all my heart, if you please.  Don Quix. 
An Ox— A Calf— Ha, ha, ha, ha— Sancho's a Droll, Sir Bachelor, you'll excuse him— But at a dire Adventure, brave as Hercules.  Sanch. 
A Plague of your Commendations— aside.— 'sbud, I never knew him praise my Fighting, but some damnable Drubbing or other happened presently after.  Don Quix. 
But are you sure the Virgin has her Cue? Is she resolved? Will she assist your Friend? To Carrasco.  Carras. 
Most vigorously; 'tis the morose Compulsion of an Uncle has brought the thing so far— She hates Camacho.  Don Q. 
No more then to be said▪ Sir▪ if your Plot fails, this Arm shall do her Justice.  Carras. 
Triumphant Voice▪ How I adore its Author! Now, by Apollo and the sacred Nine, that dip in Helicon to write of Glory, you seem, great Sir, an Emperor already▪  Sanc. 
Ah! the Emperor of 〈◊〉 take thee— art thou putting him in mind of being an 〈◊〉 again? Gadzooks, ay, begin to find this tongue-padding Fellow is a vary Rogue: They say he's a Scholard, and can tell by his Art how many pound of Candles are set up in the Sky from one years' end to t'other; and that he can expound Dreams— I was such a Fool to try him once, but nothing came on't but Folly that I know; see, they are complimenting still:— Ah! go thy ways for a Dream-teller.  Caras. 
Who talks of Dreams there— Then, Sir, if that Title sound too weak for your high relish, to be Emperor of Constantinople— is most grand.  Don Q. 
Ye've hit it, Sir; that place I must renown, since one of our best Knights Patrons of Chivalry, the Star of Arms, great Palmarin d'Oliva, reign'd there long since.  Sanc. 
They have made a thick Voyage on't; they are got as far as Constantinople in two Minutes— This plaguy Conjurer, I lay my life▪ is interpreting a Dream for my mad Master too.  Don Q. 
What dost thou mutter about Dreams, Sancho?  Caras. 
Oh, Sir, his head runs strangely on the Topick; I late was his Interpreter. Sancho dreamed he was at Sea, very much tossed in a Ship, but amongst the rest, had three great Tosses, that shook him so, he waked— I told him the first signified Preferment— which so happened; for in two days after, he was tossed— into his Government.  Sanc. 
And in two days after that, I was tossed out again— that was the second— But now, where was the third, good Mr. Conjurer? How was I tossed the third time?  Carras. 
In that, indeed Sancho, the Stars are cloudy▪  Don Q 
Oh Sir, that falls within the Verge of my small Understanding. Sancho was, just before that— tossed in a Blanket; and I suppose the Stars meant that the third.  Sanc. 
A plague on your suppose— have you found it out— Yes, if that were the third Tossing, I was tossed with a Vengeance and you were the Cause, I thank ye— for quarrelling with the Carriers at the 〈◊〉— But come, look not too high, lest a Chip fall in your Eye▪ and done't scald your lips in another Man's Porridge— I shall take Warning one day, and so perhaps scape a fourth Tossing, I shall, Gadzooks.  Carras. 
But that I know Sancho's a Virtuoso, I should imagine these were marks of Choler.  Don Q. 
He is angry— Which passion as others do express by Oaths and Curses, he always does by Proverbs— But hark, I hear the Marriage Instruments are sounding, and the procession coming.  A noise of Pipes and Rural Instruments are heard within. 
I'll stand by; and, when you 〈…〉 Sign—  Carras. 
Great Sir, I'll soon inform you— how to get your head broke. aside.  Enter, first, Music playing; then Camacho led like a Bridegroom between two Maids; after him, Quiteria like a Bride, led between two Men: After them, Shepherd's, Shepherdesses, Dancers and Singers, Men and Women. They place Quitteria in a Bower on a Bank of Flowers. Camac. 
Come Neighbours, merry be your hearts all: And now, let's see ye sing your Songs, and foot it rightly for the Honour of Camacho and Quitteria I have got her at last, d'ye mind me▪ What, must every poor Fellow think to our 〈◊〉 or me— A Sneak, a Mortgaging Rat; No, I'd have bought his head off, boys, but I'd have had her— What, I have Money enough, d'ye mind me.  1 Shep. 
Ay, ay, Cousin, I am glad she's so well bestowed▪  2 Shep. 
I wonder what she could see in t'other, to like him; he could jointure her in nothing but Fiddling and Poetry: and her good Uncle left her too well to give it a way all to nothing.  1 Shep. 
Besides, he has been always bred in th' Town: I'll warrant him as rotten as a Medlar— as 〈◊〉 too as a Lath; and his Legs stand as if they were set on the wrong end upwards— Now yours▪ Cousin, have some Substance.  2 Shep. 
Ay, ay, they'll carry him out o'th' dirt; those Legs are sit for business now— Ah, the Bride showed her Understanding in her Choice, I'll say't  Camac. 
Oh, thank ye, thank ye, this is kind faith— Come, where are these lazy Rogues— Is Dinner ready? Quickly, quickly there— let me be served, ye Knaves— What, I have Money enough, d'ye mind me— Let me have two Sir-Loins in one Dish, a dozen of Capons in another▪ for my first Course at my own Table. Then let the Ducks swim in a River of Sauce, and the Pigeons be stuffed with Parsley till they crack again: Quick, quick, I say; and you're all welcome, Boys— What, I have Money enough, d'ye mind me?  Omnes, 
A Camacho— a Camacho, hay. Sancho leaps for joy..  Sanc. 
Two Sir-lyons! humph— and a dozen of Capons!— Royal Fare, Gadzooks:— And I've a Stomach as sharp as Heart can wish;— I shall claw those Capons off.— Give your Worship Joy.  Camac. 
Oh, honest Sancho, welcome: What! Thou art hungry, I warrant; hoh, hoh, hoh. Well, thou shalt suck at the Horn of Plenty presently, thou shalt. Eat, Rogue, till thy Guts can hold no more. Where's thy Lean-jawed Master?  Sanc. 
Mum, mum, Sir; within Ear shot.  Camac. 
What, he's too proud to dine with us▪ I warrant, without the Ceremonies of the Great Mogul to usher him in, tho' he be half starved.— Hoh, hoh, hoh; How I laugh at these poor Scoundrels!  Don Q. 
Sancho.  Sanc. 
I come, Sir.— Pray Sir, To Camatho don't turn your Grin that way▪ for if he sees it, Lord have mercy upon your two Sir-loins, and your Capons; your Spits will be poking in our own Bellies▪ and the Blessings of your Porridge-pots be showered in Carves on our own Pates.  Don. Q. 
Sancho, I would not have thee, for I find thee prone, to hold too great a Correspondence with these People, because I know not yet whether they are Friends or Enemies.— And one thing more I tell thee as a Secret; Give me thy Ear— Here's an Adventure coming— we shall have Action suddenly.  Sanc. 
Action! What,— Dinner you mean, Sir, I suppose. Why, Troth, Eating is a very pretty Action, I must needs say; and I am prepared, Sir; you need not put me in mind.  Don Q. 
Nor do I, Sancho; and therefore thus I charge thee, by the unquestioned Homage that thou owest me, not to dine to day.  Sanc. 
Not dine, Sir!  Don Q. 
No, unless on Thoughts of Honour, as I do; Dinner will strangely dull thy Animal Spirits, which I shall presently have occasion for.— Once more thy Ear; mark me attentively: Within this Hour one more and thou and I must fight with all this Company.  Sanc. 
The Devil we must! Oh— that ever I was born.  Don Qu. 
Conquer 'em— and do an Act Ages to come shall story.  Sanc. 
Canquer 'em— 'Oons, what d'ye mean, Sir? They are tame enough, I think; here's no Strife amongst 'em, that I see; and to provoke 'em to fight— not I, faith, Sir. He goes too soon to that Market where nothing's to be bought but Blows.  Don Q. 
Wilt thou not fight then?  Sanc. 
Not a Stroke, Gadzooks: Besides, to forbid me eating too, when my Belly has rung all-in above this two hours— Sir, I'm your Vassal; but to think I wont Dine at my Daughter's Wedding, i● such a Tyrannical Whim, that I must rebel, if you were forty Emperors.  Don Q. 
Scoundrel— Thou shalt not have it in thy power to eat— So: No more Words for this time.— I see the Sports begin.  Here follows an Entertainment of Music and Dancing; which ended Camacho rises at the sound of some Shrieks and Cries without. 

SONG. Sung by one representing JOY.  
VErtumnus, Flora, you that bless the Fields.  
Where warbling Philomela in Safety builds;  
And to the Nymphs and Swains  
That revel on these Plains  
Dispose the joys that Heaven and Nature yields:  
Call Hymen, call him from his merry home;  
Bid him prepare his Torch, and come;  
To sing and drink full Bowls; Call loud, I say:  
'Tis Beauty's Feast, Quitteria's Wedding-day.   

The Second SONG, By one Representing Hymen or Marriage.  

HEre is Hymen, here am I,  
Some men's grief, and some men's joy:  
Here's for better and worse,  
Many Bless and many Curse.   

2.  
Tender Virgins soft and young,  
They that to be Mothers long,  
By my Aid Loves Raptures try,  
Save their blushes and enjoy.   

3.  
But none must Love's Banquet taste,  
Tho' 'tis dressed, till I say Grace;  
Till I License so to do,  
Maids that wish, must not fail too.   

4.  
The vast Universe I sway,  
Humane Kind my Laws obey:  
By a Power that equal Fates,  
I give Honours and Estates.   

5.  
Thousands me a Pillory call,  
Mouse-traps Stocks, the Devil and all:  
For who tries how I can bind,  
Is for all his Life confined.   

6.  
But if any honest Swain,  
Ask if I am joy or Pain,  
I am both, the truth to tell,  
Sometimes Heaven sometimes Hell.    

The Third Song, By one Representing Discord.  
CEase Hymen cease, thy Brow let Discord awe,  
Thou Yoke, where Fools with toil and trouble draw;  
I am sworn Foe to-all thy Law does bind;  
Marriage from first Creation was designed  
A Curse, Entailed on wretched Human Kind.  
'Tis noble Discord, generous Strife,  
That gives the truest taste of Life;  
Marriage first made Man fall,  
Had I been in the Garden placed,  
The Woman ne'er had made him taste;  
'Twas foolish Loving damned us all,  
Had I been in, etc.  Joy. 
Happy Mortals you from me,  
Shall have all felicity.  Hymen. 
I'll bestow, to raise your joys,  
Charming Girls and Lovely Boys.  Discord. 
And to quell each fond Delight,  
I will make you scratch and Bite.  Chorus of all. 
Let Mortals than know,  
Let 'em know, let 'em know, let 'em know, let 'em know,  
Let us by reflection show,  
What attends the Marriage Vow,  
And what joys and Troubles grow;  
Let Mortals than know,  
Let 'em know, let 'em know, let 'em know, let 'em know.   Here follows a Dance of six or eight Men and Women, representing the Happiness and Unhappiness of Marriage. First Man within. 
A Surgeon, a Surgeon, help, help for Heaven's sake.  Second Man within. 
He faints, he faints, keep the Spirit to his Nose, Oh help, help—  Enter Carrasco as frighted. Carasc. 
Oh unfortunate Accident, Oh dreadful Mischance, make room there; Where's the Bridegroom, where's the Cruel Bride?  Cam. 
What are ye mad, d''ee mind me; here we are, what's the matter? How now, what business have you here Friend?  Carasc. 
Basilius, my dear Friend Basilius, Oh, if you have any pity, let him come in and speak to the Bride.  Cam. 
Basilius— should, what my Rival— no, no, such matter, he comes not here, d'ye mind me.  Carasc. 
Oh poor Basilius, he's past being your Rival now Sir, for no sooner had the Friar told him, that he was to Marry Quitteria this morning, but in a desperate Frenzy, with a sharp Tuck he run himself through the Body, and there he is without, weltering in his Blood, nor will be Confessed do what they can, till he speak with the Bride, and she consents to hear his Dying Words.  Cam. 
What— has he run himself through the Body, d'ye say—  Carasc. 
Oh! ay Sir, ay— he has killed himself, he has killed himself, he can't live half an hour.  Cam. 
Nay, look ye, d'ye mind me, if he has killed himself, I care not much if I do let him come in and tell his Tale— What says Quitty— let the hot-headed Fool come in, he can't Prate long, if he has run himself through the Body.  Quit. 
Oh, Sir, believe not I will hinder him, the Man that sacrificed his Life for me; if in my Bosom lives a generous thought, must certainly have there a large possession.  Cam. 
We'll bring him then,— and d'ye mind me, tell the Cook we'll send him word when the simple Fellow's dead, and then we'll go to Dinner.  Enter Basilius carried between two a Sword stuck through his Body, which appears all Bloody— with him a Friar. First Shep▪ 
Bless us, what a Wound's there, the Sword comes above five inches out at his Back.  Second Shep. 
Ah, he has taken occasion for the Sun to shine through him Neighbour.  Basil. 
Oh! to Quitteria thou to whose fair but relentless Eyes, I sacrificed my Youth's entirest Duty, behold the latest Tribute Love can offer, my Life paid to appease the cruel fates; Who would not grant that I should live with her, for whom I only thought Life worth enjoying.  Quit. 
'Twas the effect of both our rigid Fortunes— Alas! I was not in my own dispose, my Heart ne'er had the power to make amends for your true Love since 'twas confined by Friends.  Cam. 
The short and the long on't is, Friends did it, d'ye mind me, I had Interest with her Uncle, and you had none; What! the thing is plain enough, you lost her, because you were poor; and I had her, because I was rich— What! I had Money enough, d'ye mind me.  Basil. 
Live happy Sir, and long, as you can enjoy her, I only beg of you for my Soul's sake, to grant me one request before I die.  Cam. 
Request; Well, what is't, let's hear, let's hear.  Basil. 
That whilst I live, which is but till this Weapon be drawn out out of my Body— for then 'tis certain my very Soul flows with it— that you'd resign Quitteria to me, and to confirm it subscribe here this Paper.  Cam. 
How! subscribe, I don't understand that, d'ye mind me.  Basil. 
Alas, Sir, 'tis but for a wretched minute.  Friar. 
Come, good Sir, mind your better part, your Soul, leave these transitory thoughts, and prepare for your Confession.  Basil. 
'Tis for my Soul's sake, Reverend Sir, I beg this, for I, alas, have rashly made an Oath, that till she's mine, I ne'er would be Confessed,— and now am in a State of Desperation; Madam, you may have Charity, though no Love— Do you persuade him, alas, you know a Soul's a precious thing.  Quit. 
I am given all to him, but yet, alas Sir, whether my Interest be so much, as can assure the Grant of any Suit, I dare not yet affirm— Don Quixote beckons Sancho.  Don Q. 
Let 'em alone Sancho, stand Foot to Foot by me.  Sancho. 
What can be the meaning of all this, sure this plaguy Devil, my Master, has not persuaded this Man to kill himself, only to hinder me of my Dinner.  Fryer 
Your Charity should exert itself on this Occasion, troth Sir, 〈…〉 the Lady says— A Soul's a precious thing.  Cam▪ 
Why, I should be well enough inclined, d'ye mind me, to take pitty of his Soul, if it would be civil, and go from his Body in good time, and not hinder us too long from Dinner; but to be sure of that now.  Carasc. 
That, Sir,— alas, it will be gone next minute, draw out the Sword, you draw out his Soul too; Besides, Sir, you'll be haunted fearfully if he should die without shrift in this desperate Condition— his Ghost will be glaring ye in the Face every minute.  Cam. 
His Ghost!  Carasc. 
Ay, Sir, his Ghost in a Bloody shroud, with a pale Face and gogling Eyes— 'twill come every day to Dinner t'ye; and to have a Ghost you know always dipping in one's Dish, Sir.  Cam. 
Humph, dipping in my Dish!  Carasc. 
Ay, Sir, with his cold scraggy Knuckles.  Cam. 
Why, troth, d'ye mind me Friend, I should not much like that, I confess— a Ghost is but an odd Companion at Meals.  Basil. 
The ebbing Pulse about my Heart grows weaker, and little Spirits skim before my Eyes, all gay and fine in particoloured dresses, to catch my fleeting Soul— therefore consent this Instant, or for ever.  Quit. 
You have, Sir, mine, and with it all my Heart, and were my Hand my own I'd give that too.  Basil. 
Fiddlers, Physicians, Songs, and Clyster-pipes. Staring as distracted.  Carasc. 
He begins to talk idly, therefore if you love your quiet, Sir, subscribe quickly, 'tis but for a minute you know— besides think on the Ghost, Sir. Gives the Paper.  Cam. 
Dipping his scraggy Knuckles in my Dish— my Hair stands an end at the thoughts on't— There, Sir Writes there's my Hand, and for the little time he lives I do resign her to him, but not a jot longer, die mind me.  Carasc. 
No, no, Sir, longer, we desire no longer— there's Sir, there's Balsam for your Wound, to Camacho and now, Sir, Bridegroom, welcome to our Comedy; stand up Friend— Basilius starts up and draws out the Sword▪  Basil. 
When stately Rosius on the Roman Stage  
Was like some valiant General to die  
The Steel, not through himself he thrust in Rage,  
But slily through a Wooden Trunk close by * Throws away the Trunk.  
The Purple stains, which were a Sheep's warm Blood,  
Upon his snowy Linen sprinkled were:  
But, Oh! the Fools that nothing understood,  
How they did wonder, Oh! how they did stare!  
Ha, ha, ha, a Trick, a Trick, a Trick— Oh, my Dear to Quit. sweet pretty Actress, this was a Scene indeed— Noble Sir, we have the Licence here to go about our business— We thank you for this preparation— but we have another Entertainment elsewhere, and so sweet. Sir, adieu. Takes Quitteria.  Quitter. 
Oh cruel Man, am I turned off at this rate, I shall cry my Eyes out, Ha, ha, ha—  Carasc. 
Ha, ha, ha, you may get another Wife, Sir, you have Money enough, d'ye mind me.  Cam. 
Odsbodikins, am I fobbed off thus,— it shan't do, Sir, I'll have her again with a Vengeance, ●all on, Friends, I'm abused; I'll give a thousand Ducats for her again, fall on Boys,  Carasc. 
Now, to Don Quix. Sir, this is your time, now show these Rascals your Heroic Virtue.  Don Q. 
Ten Millions shall not fetch her back— Draw Sancho. Rascals go on and fight, or— here Don Q. Car. and San beat 'em off and return; So, Sir, now she's your own in peace.  Basil. 
Brave, Brave Don Quixote, what Honour shall I pay him.  Carasc. 
We'll have a Statue for him and for Sancho, we'll instantly to his Daughter's Wedding, and caress him there.  Sancho. 
Ay, when you have taken away my Stomach with drubbing, you'll give me a Dinner.  Basil. 
And now, dear Angel, let's to our own Happiness— 
Thus, let all Lovers that by Friends are crossed,  
Thus let 'em be rewarded for't at last   
The End of the Second Act.    

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Teresa, Mary, and Jaques, Mary in her Wedding clothes strutting. jaques. 
WHy, here has been mad doings in the Meadow yonder, if all be true as Vather in Law has told us, Master Basilius has whipped away the Bride, it seems, and by Conscience they have made a mere Fool of my Master Camacho.  Teres. 
Ay, and there's a woundy many Stories about it already; some say the Weapon came out above a handful at's Back, and some say there was above eight or nine inches seen out at's Belly, and every body has a several Tale; but let it be how it will, Marry, since Master Basilius has offered thee thy Wedding Dinner, as well as tother, he's as proper a Man as tother, and deserves a good Wife as well as tother, every whit, hah!  Mary▪ 
Ay, ay, Mother, so I can but be Married, and you can but Dine, we care not which way it comes, aside not we Icod; but stay, Codslidikins I had forgot, I must not be so Rompish before jaques, I'll set my Mouth in Prim. He looks on her, she Prims.  jacques. 
Well, Flesh of mine, Rumpsy, Plumpsy, how is't? hah! does Heart thump yet, the hour's a coming Chuffy Chaps— 'tis a coming Long Nose Pinckaninny, are your Twincklers twinkling i'faith— well the Domine will have said Grace presently— and then I'll fall too with a Tantararara, I've a swinging Stomach by Conscience.  Mary. 
O Lord, what d'ye mean trow? pray Man don't talk so. Setting her Face.  jaques. 
Ah— ye Bubbies you, I must talk so, ye little tempting Rogue, I will talk so; well, go thy ways, thou puts down all Spain for Bubbies, that's certain— Hark, Mother in Law, she goes back Coily never believe me more. if Mary the Buxome's Bubbies there be not the making of us when I have made her Milch once, she will be sent for to Suckle all the great Dons Children about Court, she'll yield a Pailful a day by Conscience.  Mary. 
Pish— fie upon't, faith now I can't abide such talk, can't you let Bubbies alone I wonder.  Teres. 
Ah, splice ye for a Cunning Carrion— the Jade simpers as if Butter would not melt in her mouth, but Cheese of three half pence a pound won't choke her, as the old saying is.  Man within. 
Come, where's the Bride and Bridegroom, Bagpipes within Sounds here— Holloa, Holloa.  jaques. 
Hark now, by Conscience our Friends are come to fetch us to Church, come Molly, come away Flesh of mine, prithee come.  Mary. 
Fugh, I can't tell how to come, I'm so ashamed. He pulls her out.  Teres. 
Ah— cunning Quean— Ha, ha, ha, ha— Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Basilius, Carasco, Quitteria, and Altisidora. Basil. 
THus far kind Fortune has improved our Joy, and when the Law has perfected the Work, than I shall call this Treasure of my Soul, my own securely, Embracing Quit. Oh, my best Brother, how am I bound to thee too? how shall I pay thee for thy friendly service.  Carasc. 
The Pay of Friendly service is the doing it, and I am glad at Heart it has succeeded; I know the Mad Knights assistance was Authentic, and therefore blew him up with Praise and Flattery, which made him, when the brunt of the Business came, to lay about him so; Where have you left him, Madam?  Quit. 
I'th' Garden, dedicating his Fond Thoughts to his Romantic Mistress Dulcinea; To divert him from whom, and to promote our Mirth, I have laid a Plot; That Ally here, my Niece, shall feign herself passionately in love with him, meet him at every turn, and sigh and languish as if she were despairing.  Basil. 
'Twill make us excellent Sport— but she must be sure then to cry up Knight Errantry— sing Amorous Dittys often, and humour him in his Romantic Vein.  Alitsid. 
Humour him, 'dslife I have got Parismus and Parismenos almost by heart, and am as familiar with Don Belianis of Greece, as if I had been his Squire; and then for singing, I have got the most deplorable Matters, the most Melancholy miserable Madigrals, that being dismally howled about twelve at night, would make all the Cats of the Parish come into the Consort.  Carasc. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Witty Rogue will mimic it better than any Actress in Spain, and the Knight will be puzzled Damnably; but a Pox on't, we want him all this while— Oh, here he comes and Sancho.  Enter Don Quixote and Sancho. Basil▪ 
The beauty of the Morning bless ye, Sir,— and may the Rays of the Meridian Sun shine gently on the Head of the most fam'd of all Knights Errand in the Universe.  Don Q. 
Oh good Basilius, generous young Man,— you do me too much Honour,— good faith 'tis far beyond my mean deservings.  Quit. 
No flattery can reach Don Quixotes Head, he looks above it still.  Carasc. 
As far as high Olympus does a Molehill.  Quit. 
Or Heaven the lowest Earth.  Don Q. 
Most Beauteous Lady, happy I am above all other Knights, to have such Praises from so sweet a Mouth; and my most learned Sir, I thank you for your Goodness. To Caras.  Basilius. 
Nor must my good Friend Sancho lose his share in our best Compliments— whose Service has been notable,— well my trusty Squire— to an Immortal Knight; Is Mary sped yet, are the happy Couple coming, you see we wait for 'em.  Sanc. 
Yes, yes, Sir, the job is over by this time, the two Fools are hobbling hither as fast as they can: I should have had a new Jerkin on by right, my Master's Worship gave me an old Mantle to make me one I thank him, but I have laid it up till another time, I love to be saving.  Sancho speaks as flustered. Don Quixote. 
I gave thee that as a Reward for th' Bruises thou gottest in the late Skirmish; for though thy Mettle, like a resty Jade, ran back at first, yet with my Spurring thou got'st Honour afterwards; and Scars and Bruises that are got with Honour, all merit to be covered with a Mantle.  Altis. 
Ah sweet Man * Altisidora looks amorously on Don Quixote., how sweetly he talks.  Don Quix. 
What says the Nymph unspotted Looks proudly on her.  Altis. 
Ye sweet Face— Ah ye dear Man, you.  Quit. 
Fie Altis, fie, did you not promise me to be more moderate. You must excuse her, Sir, the poor Girl cant hide a Passion for you, which you had known before, had not I feared the Charms of the bright Dulcinea— were so rooted in you, you could heed nothing else,— but now, since she has broke the Ice herself,— I can no longer forbear telling ye, you have bewitched my Niece.  Altis. 
Ah— those alluring Eyes.  Quit. 
Fie Alty—  Don Q▪ 
Prevailing merit, Madam, is not Witchcraft— I cannot help my— influence, 'tis not my fault, you should lock up your Sisters and your Neices.  Altis. 
That Heart-seducing Nose.  Garas. 
This is almost Distraction, the young Lady is far gone.  Basil. 
Ah poor young thing, this has been breaking out a great while.  Altis. 
That precious—  Don Quix. 
Prithee.  Altis. 
Graceful.  Don Quix. 
Nay— look off Maiden.  Altis. 
Honey wording Mouth,  
And that most charming Phillamote Complexion.  

A SONG sung by Miss Cross, when she makes Love to Don Quixote.  

DAmon Feast your Eyes on me,  
Whither simply would you lead 'em:  
Can you think another she,  
Has more Charms than I to feed 'em▪  
He that leaves a Rosy Cheek,  
Lips Vermillioned like a Ruby,  
Blindly courser fare to seek,  
Pox upon him for a Booby.   

If a Smile, the Lover's joy  
Can Delight, I'll do't Divinely,  
Or d'ye love a Sleepy Eye,  
Here is one can Ogle finely:  
Charms would make another Man  
Gaze an Age, I'll show to win ye;  
And when I've shown all I can;  
If you go the Devil's in you.    
— Oh Flower of Knights, Don Quixote de la Mancha.  Don Quix. 
Oh! Dulcinea del Toboso, guard well the Castle of my Constancy— The foe is strong, the Nymph is wondrou0s Lovely. Oh I hear Music— now I shall get Breath. Music within The Married Couple's coming— this was lucky.  Altis. 
He shuns me— then break Heart, I'll go and cry my Soul out. Exit Altis  Don Quix. 
Very strange this—  Sanc. 
Ay, Here comes Mary, the Jade tosses her Head like the fore-Horse of a Team; She has made me almost Drunk with Aqua Vitae this morning— and will be Foxed herself before night, she's so crank upon the matter.  Music plays; Then Enter Jaques led by two Maids; and than Mary led by two Men; 'Gins de Passamonte and Lopez disguised; Then Teresa follows, and Singers and Dancers. Caras. 
A very jolly Troop; their Faces too look merrily.  Quit. 
A sign their Hearts are Tuned: This is their time, a Wedding Day's the Jubilee of Life.  Basil. 
Welcome, welcome all, and I wish you Joy my Friend— Your Spouse there is well pleased I see by her looks.  jaq. 
Ay, I'll make her look nine ways at once before I have done with her, by Conscience.  Caras. 
Take heed of Threatening Friend, Mary's a Girl of Courage.  Mary. 
Ay, Ay, let him threaten, 'tis all he can do to hurt me,— I'll deal with him well enough I warrant ye; Odslidikins, what the think I can't deal with him: When I was a Maid, and under subjection, I primed and simpered and was mealy-mouthed as they call it; but now I am a Wife, I gad, I'll talk what I please— and be Master too in my turn, old Rock. Gives Jaques a thump on the back.  Basil. 
— Why well said Mrs. Bride— give her a Buss for that Friend.  Mary. 
How now, What, do as you are bid, every Fool does as their bid, Lobcock. He rumples her to Kiss her, and she gives him a Box on the Ear.  Teres. 
Ha, ha, ha,— 'tis a plaguy mettled young Quean, but 'tis no wonder; for at her Age I was just so myself. This Jade puts me in mind of a pure Proverb, that says, Honest Men marry quickly, but Wise Men not at all.  Sanc. 
Nay, Marry,— Gadzooks you'll balk my Son in Law if you fight upon your Wedding Day; that's a little too soon— your Mother and I did not go to Cuffs in a fortnight after at least, Child.  Caras. 
Oh, 'tis nothing, she intended perhaps to entertain him as the famous Spartan Ladies used to do at their Marriages, where a good Box on th' Ear given by the Bride to her new Husband, was held a special favour.  Sanc. 
'Tis a special favour that she'll entertain him with then, as often as any Spartan of 'em all, I'll say that for her.  Don Q. 
A blow may be a sign of over fondness, as Mothers sometimes Kissing Bite their Children.  Basil. 
Ay, ay, 'twas a Jest, they play the play together; I warrant they're as fond of one another as two Kittlins.  jaq. 
Nay I meant no harm not I,— it came a little sour though upon my left Ear, by Conscience— but come, we won't fall out for all that Mary.  Mary. 
Fugh, I care not for falling out nor falling in— I cod I won't be Bussed but when I please— What the think I'm a Fool, to be slopped and slopped every time you are bid do't, I cod I won't be slopped but when I've a mind to't myself; nay, look as you will— I won't be mealy mouthed not I, I'm Married now, must.  Basil. 
Faith Mrs. Bride, and nothing but reason▪ and now to end the difference in Mirth— le's have some Music, the great Don Quixot's Melancholy: Come, let the Wedding sports go forward, and bid the Servants get Dinner ready in the Lodge next to the Grove. I've heard the Bride Dances and Sings her self too my Dear To Quit. and I hope will pleasure us too, add to the Entertainment upon her Wedding Day.  Quit. 
I hope she'll be so kind, and to encourage her, there's something towards Housekeeping. Gives her a Purse.  Mary. 
O Lord— 'tis Gold— Fackins— Thank your noble Ladyship.  jaq. 
Give your Honour many Thanks.  Mary. 
Hoy, What do you thank her for— Look here Presto, you are like to see no more on't, Puts up the Purse, and makes Mouths at him.  Basil. 
Nay here's another for the Bridegroom too▪ we must not be kind by halves. Gives another Purse to Jaques.  jaq. 
Heaven bless ye, by Conscience, you are a noble Gentlemen. Now Flesh of mine. Shakes the Purse, and she snatches it away.  Mary. 
What now— Why now, 'tis where it should be— nay stand away, I cod I'll keep it— I'll make it in my bargain, I'll keep all the Money.  San. 
So— the Jade begins already— she'll show him rare Pranks ere long.  jaq. 
Odsbodikins that were wise work.  Caras. 
Ah, let her have it, let her have her Humour till night, you know then you must strip her of all.  Basil. 
Oh by all means; and besides, 'twill hinder our Mirth should you cross her now ● Come begin there.  The Clown's Song at the Marriage of Mary the Buxom, in Eleven Movements, Sung to a Division on a Ground Bass: The Words implying a Country Match at Stoolball. 


Ground Bass.  
COme all, great, small,  
Short, tall, away to Stoolball.   

First Movement.  
Down in a Dale on a Summer's day,  
All the Lads, and Lasses, met to be merry;  
A Match for Kisses at Stoolball play,  
And for Cakes, and Ale, and cider and Perry.  
Will, and Tom, Hall, Dick, and Hugh, Kate, Doll,  
Sue, Bess, and Moll, with Hodge, and Bridget, Ned and Nanny,  
But when Plump Siss got the Ball in her Mutton Fist,  
Once fretted, she'd hit it further than any.   

Third Movement.  
Running, Hairing,  
Gapeing, Staring,  
Reaching, ' Stooping,  
Hollowing, Whooping,  
Sun a Setting,  
All thought fitting,  
To sit down and rest 'em   

Fourth Movement.  
Hall got Sue,  
And Doll got Hugh,  
All took by turns  
Their Lasses and Bussed 'em.   

Fifth Movement.  
jolly Ralph was in with Pegg,  
Tho freckled like a Turkey Egg,  
And she as right as is my Leg  
Still gave him leave to Touse her.   

Sixth Movement.  
Harry then to Katty,  
Swore her Dugs were pretty,  
Tho' they were all sweaty,  
And large as any Cows are.   

Seventh Movement.  
Tom Melancholy was  
With his Lass,  
For Sue, what he e'er could do,  
Would not note him.   

Eighth Movement.  
Some had told her  
Being a Soldier,  
In a Party  
With Macarty,  
At the Siege of Limerick,  
He was wounded in the Scrotum.   

Ninth  
But the cunning Philly  
Was more kind to Willy,  
Who of all their Ally  
Was the ablest Ringer.   

Tenth Movement  
He to carry on the jest  
Begins a Bumper to the best,  
And winks at her of all the rest,  
And squeezed her by the Finger.   

Then went the Glasses round,  
Then went the Lasses down,  
Each Lad did his Sweet Heart own,  
And on the Grass did fling her.   

Ground Bass.  
Come all, great and small.    Now Mrs. Bride. Mary. 
I cod I'll sing my Song then of the Millers Daughter; Come give me the Trenchers.  

A Song sung by Mary the Buxom.  

THe old Wife she sent to the Miller her Daughter  
To grind her Grist quickly, and so return back.  
The Miller so worked it, that in eight months after,  
Her Belly was filled as full as her Sack:  
Young Robin so pleased her,  
That when she came home,  
She gaped like a stuck Pig, and stared like a Mome;  
She hoydened, she scampered, she hallowed, and whooped,  
And all the day long,  
This, this was her Song,  
Hoy was ever Maiden so Lerricom Pooped.   

Oh Nelly, cried Celie, thy clothes are all Mealy,  
Both backside and Belly are rumpled all ore.  
You Mop Mow, and Slubber, why what a Pox ail ye,  
I'll go to the Miller, and know all you Whore.  
She went, and the Miller so grinding, did ply▪  
She came cutting Capers a foot and half high;  
She wadled, and straddled, 〈◊〉 hollowed, and whooped,  
And all the day long,  
This, this was her Song;  
Hoy, were e'er swo Sisters so Lerricom Pooped▪   

Then Mary o' th' Dairy, a third of the number,  
Would fain know the cause they so giged it about.  
The Miller her Wishes, long would not encumber,  
But in the old manner, the secret made out.  
Thus Celie, and Nelly, and Mary the Mild,  
Were all about Harvest time all big with Child.  
They Danced in a Hey, and she hollowed and whooped,  
And all the day long,  
This, this was their Song;  
Hoy, were three Sisters so Lerricom Pooped.    Basil. 
Most excellently performed, I see the Bride's an Artist at it.  Quit. 
Her motion quick and graceful, her Voice good too.  Teres. 
Nay, at our Wake Mary used always to carry away the Garland, I'll say that for her; Bless us, how the ●●lding sweats, here take my Muckender Child. Takes out a Clo●●.  jaq. 
Do Flesh of mine, and wipe Bubbies. He throws it to her.  Mary. 
I wont now because you bid me. She throws it in his Face.  Caras. 
Oh, her Spirits are warm, you must not thwart her now Mr. Bridegroom.  Don Quix. 
This exercise of Dancing is of use; it is as one may say, a kind of Vaulting, and Vaulting ever was held very useful, a proper Science in the Art of War, when I was young I had it in Perfection, and can now without Boots come over Rosinante.  Basil. 
Sir, you excel in every thing.  Gives. 
Let's in amongst 'em * To Lopez. now is the proper time; save ye Gentlemen.  Iaques. 
O Lord, here's Master Peter come, and has brought his Motion with him, I warrant: Oh Sirs, if ever you'll see a fine thing whilst you live, le's see Master Peter's Poppet Show; by Conscience this is the purest chance that he should come to set out our Wedding too.  Mary. 
Oh Gemini Vather, the Poppet Show, I cod I am glad of this, for I have longed to see a Poppet Show as much as ever I did to be Married, I'll Swear. Mary jumps and Dances about.  Sancho. 
Well, well, dont make such a noise, dont be such a hoyden.  Teres. 
And I too iffecks—  Iaques. 
There we shall see Kings and Queens, and Moors, and Jews, and Bulls, and Bears. and Ladies, and Bishops, and Barbarians, and all the World by Conscience: Oh rare Master Peter, are you come I'faith.  Quit▪ 
Ha, ha, ha,— how the Fool has mixed 'em, Bears and Ladies, and Bishops and Barbarians.  Basil. 
Ay, I minded it— Well honest Friend, and what new matters have ye, hah.  Gives. 
Of all sorts Sir: I have Motions proper for all kind of Stories. First, Sir, I can entertain ye with a pretty piece, called the taking of Namur, with the utter routing of the Confederate Army; you'll say 'tis very fine when 'tis performed.  Basil. 
Ay, that will be a very fine piece indeed.  Cures. 
Ay marry Sir, these are notable things indeed  jaques. 
Did not I tell ye what a pure Fellow he was; well by Conscience, there is not the like of this Master Peter in all Spain.  Gives. 
Then I've a third, and please ye▪ upon an English Plot, 'tis called, English Men Satisfied; or, the Impossibility; 'Tis plaguy Satyrical, it makes 'em the verriest Maggots; the mearest Shatter brains, for it shows, that neither Monarchy nor Commonwealth, nor Pope nor Protestant, nor War nor Peace, nor Liberty nor Slavery, nor Marrying nor Whoring, nor Reason nor Treason, can satisfy a right Englishman.  Basil. 
Humph— these are shrewd Matters Friend.  Gives. 
Then, Sir, if you please to see any Mimickry, here's my Comrade shall divert ye better than any one in Spain; He shall Mimic a Cat in a Coal-Basket; a Mastiff Dog in a Court Yard; a Shoulder of Mutton upon a Spit; and a hundred things: beside, all so naturally— you would swear it was real.  Sancho. 
Pox take him for naming a Shoulder of Mutton, the Rogue has set my Mouth a watering at it— besides, this plague Aquavitae works so much in my Head, that if they don't make haste to Dinner, I shall ne'er hold out till Night, Gadzooks.  Don Q. 
Peace Sancho, but d' ye hear Friend— What Tracts of History can your Motion perform, I am for that now? Can you show nothing about Knight Errantry.  Gives. 
Oh, the finest Piece in the World, Sir, I can show you the History of the disastrous Loves of Don Goyferos and Mellisandra.  Don Q. 
Ha!— Canst thou?  Gives. 
Yes, Sir, how he freed Melisendra from a strong Castle in Sansuena, where she had been close locked up by the Moorish King Marsilius.  Don Q. 
Ay, that, that, Friend for my Money, methinks I long to see how the valiant Knight Errand, Don Gayferos, behaved himself in that dangerous Adventure,— What, say Gentlemen and Madam, shall we see this noble History?  Quit. 
Oh, with all my Heart, Sir, I am a great Admirer of 'em.  Basil. 
That shall be our Evening Diversion— Now let's in to Dinner, I warrant the Bride and Bridegroom are hungry; besides, we must have a Rouse or two to their Healths: Come, Mr. Bridegroom, manage your Spouse, and Noble Knight, pray follow. jaques leads Mary, and Don Q▪ Quitteria.  Sancho. 
Ay, ay, come— a Rowse, a Rowse, let's Sing, and let's Bowze, Gadzooks my Master must Squire himself to day, for I must tope a Brusher or two more, now my hands in, come what will on't.  Exit Sancho. Enter Manet, 'Gins, and Lopez. Gives. 
So, thanks to good luck, thus far I'm undiscovered, little does this Whimsical Knight think that I am that famous 'Gins de Passamonte, that amongst the rest of my Brethren galley-slaves whom he freed, beat him so damnably in the Mountains of Sierra Morena— My disguise here, and false Name of Peter, has, I find, secured me from his knowledge; Adventures on the Highway was my noble Function then, but some time after cunningly cheating a poor dull Fellow of his Motion, I have ever since set up for Master of the Poppets myself, under the umbrage of which Profession, I have played Pranks innumerable, no Man scaping my nimble Hand or subtle Brain, that I knew had either Money or Movable— The two Purses, Comrade, that were given to day, are too weighty to stay long in the Possession of those Fools, therefore are marked for ours— This Foolish Don and Clodpate Squire have Beasts to Ride on too, this must not be, Brother, whilst Men of Brain and Action go on foot— therefore in reason likewise are for us too.  Lopez. 
Say but how this is to be done, Brother, and I'll warrant I'll play my part.  Gives. 
Why easily, as easily as you may Steal a Hen; As thus now When all these here are gapping at the Poppets, which I'll take care to hold 'em by th' Ears with, the Purses carelessly put in some Box or Cupboard in the Lodge there, than thou like Mercury, gliding through the Doors, may'st snap 'em in a moment.  Lopez. 
I'll do my best endeavours.  Gives. 
Then with what pleasure at a private hour shall we laugh at these Fools; Ah, of all Trades a Rogue is the most pleasant; They may talk of Merchants with their subtle Bargains; of Shopmen with fallacious Weights, and Measures; of Gamesters with false Dice, Lawyers with Lying; but for the Wit and Pleasure of Mystery, the Ingenious, the right true modelled Thief, is the delightful function in the World— Come Brother, first le's to the Stable— they are too busy within about themselves to take care of their Beasts without— but hold I think here's some coming out,— d'sdeath, 'tis the Knight and Squire,— and leading the Ass with them— let's Steal cunningly in behind 'em there's, the Horse left still,— and I've a close private place to secure him in— let 'em search how they can. Exeunt.  Enter Don Quixote and Sancho drunk, Don Quixote leading the Ass. Don Q. 
Sancho.  Sancho. 
— ugh— well. Hiccoughs as drunk.  Don Q. 
Fixing just now an Eye of Observation, I found in the Oeconomy of thy Behaviour, something Opprobrious to the Character of him that is my Squire, thou took'st thy Cups at a too lavish rate; a thing offensive to our sober Order; and though I six times called thee to make ready Rosinante for an Adventure I had just then thought on, thou answeredst not; which considering my Greatness, and what I am to thee, is a prodigious fault.  Sanc. 
Why looky— ugh— though 'tis true, you did call me 6 times,— yet I was just then drinking 6 Bumpers in a hand— which I think, ugh, was another guess Adventure than yours— And as to your Greatness, ugh; why looky, I am, ugh, six times greater than I was too.  Don Q. 
Ah, shame on thee, thou art now less than ever— A Flea's a Creature of much larger Soul, nay and much larger Merit— thou great, no sordid Fool, the Man that's Drunk—  Sanc. 
* Hick-ups like one drunk. Is as great as a King, Gadzooks.  Don Q. 
Ceases to be at all, thou Soulless Insect— heaven— what affront is this to Chivalry— what scandal to thy Office.  Sancho▪ 
Ugh— hang my Office, 'tis a paltry lousy Office— an Office that▪ ugh— Gadzooks I●am ashamed of.  Don Q. 
How's that, Brute?  Sancho. 
And as for Chi, Chi, Chivalry, look ye— the Man that, ugh, carries Guts to the Bea●s, has a better Trade by half.  Don Q. 
Oh Profanation, oh monstrous Scoundrel, this to my Face▪  Sancho. 
Nay, nay; look'ee, 'tis true, 'tis true; for my part, I speak nothing but the truth; and ugh— now am I resolved to speak my Belly full. When you're an Anvil hold ye still; But when you're a Hammer strike your fill. Pop— there's a Proverb for ye too.  Don Q. 
What am I bound to bear for being rational? Poor Slave! this is the Wine, not him.  Sancho. 
And d'ye hear, Friend, ugh, to be even with ye for all the Counsel ye have given me, let me advise ye, d'ye hear, to leave your Errantry, and go home, ugh; for to be plain— look'ee, as ye are, they take ye for no better— than a Fool-Master of mine.  Don Q. 
Oh Dog!— 'Sdeath, I shall want Patience— Come, Sirrah, and mount presently— I am your Squire for once, and will see ye safe to night— but to morrow, Rascal—  Sancho. 
Mount— ay▪ come, with all my heart— that I may ride away from— Chi, Chi, Chivalry. D'ye hear, Friend mine, the Ass thinks one thing, and he that rides him another. I'll get far enough from Chivalry, Gadzooks.  Don Q. 
The Villain sputters Proverbs, though he is so sleepy, that he can hardly Sancho gets on his Ass. see to get up. I'll go now and fetch Rosinante, and then get him into some adjacent Grove or other, that the Company within mayn't see him. See, the drunken Slave's fast asleep already.  'Gins. 
peeping. Ah Pox on him, there's no way to get by him.  Lopez. 
I'll bark like a Dog, and try to fright him. Barks like a Dog, D. Queen starts.  Don Q. 
Ha, what's this I hear: A Dog, a fierce one too, yet none kept here, nor in the Houses round us; 'tis obvious now this can be nought but Magic: some cursed Enchanter here takes Sancho's part, on purpose to disgrace me. But Dog, or Devil, I'll not fear to attack him: Therefore come forth, thou tripple-headed Cerberus, that with thy Heart's Blood I may quell the Charm, and prove the force of my undaunted Valour draws. Not yet; nay then I'll drag thee from thy Kennel, and dare thy sharpest Fangs. pulls out Lopez staring Ha! What art thou? Can Dogs that bark turn Men?— O monstrous Metamorphosis! Lopez is going. Nay, shun me not, for I will speak to thee, to know why thou assumest the Face and Shape of one I saw to day— If thou art Substance, I dare thee with my Sword; or if a Ghost, that perhaps wantest Revenge, I promise that too— What, gone! Thou shalt not leave me thus; I'll follow thee, though to the Centre.  Lopez goes out, Don Quixot after him. Enter 'Gins. 'Gins. 
So, I see Lopez is got away, and the Knight follows, but must return quickly; for he can no more overtake him, than a paltry Village Cu● can a lightfoot Roe upon the Mountains— But hush, who have we here?— hah!— oons! 'tis the motley Squire, drunk too, and fast asleep. Humph, tho' we have missed our Design upon Rosinante, yet methinks that Ass tempts me strangely— Gad, I must have him, and I think I have a trick will do't— but I must go back to the Stable for some Engines I saw there. Goes out and returns with stakes. So, he's at it still, and gaping as if he were devouring Sleep by mouthfuls. Now dear Morpheus, let him but dream that he's regaling with Buttock Beef, Bacon, Brews, and such like, and the Prize is my own. I think I have done, it now; wheiwh, wheiwh— Come, Dapple, come. Props Sancho 's Panel up with Stakes, and steals the Ass from under him, and Exit.  Don Quixot returns. Don Q. 
I'm out of Breath with running— the Enchanter has given him Wings upon his Feet to speed him, lest with my Sword I should undo the Charm, and triumph o'er his Art. I'm strangely embarassed, but must have Patience. Come, where's this Sot here? I'll first remove him to some private hole, and then recount the Miracle within. Sees Sancho asleep on the Stakes Ha! what's this I see? By all my Fame, a second Metamorphosis— the Ass turned into Wooden Stakes. Hoa Sancho!  Shakes him, he falls to the ground, Sancho. 
Another slice of Pudding, good Molly. dreaming.  Don Q. 
He's dreaming he's at Dinner. Wake, Dolt, Fool, wake.  Sancho. 
Hoa, Dapple, hoa; not too fast, good Dapple. Scrambles up, and reels out.  Don Q. 
Thinks the Ass has run from him too, insensible of what has befell by Magic. Oh Confusion seize this Enchanter! what senseless Tricks they play me; as if Asses transformed, and Dogs turned into Men, could quell Don Quixot's Courage. No, ye Hell-searching Crew, if damned Medusa, or Infernal Circe, should round encircle me with Stygian Monsters, and Fiery Dragons threaten to devour me, 
No Terror my undaunted Heart should charm,  
Or ere abate the Vigour of my Arm.  Exit.   
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Enter Don Quixot, Basilius, Carasco, and Quitteiria. Basil. 
YOU tell us Wonders, Sir.  Don Q. 
Sir, my Life is full of 'em. No day e'er passes me without some Accident worthy of Wonders— This last was but a Trial: my Enemies the Enchanters did but try what Metal I was made of.  Quit. 
And when they found you Proof against their Malice, shrunk back with Shame— Oh wondrous Power of Chivalry!  Caras. 
Against the Charm of whose Heroic Virtue, Egyptian sharp-fanged Dogs, nor Russian Bears, Tartarian Tigers, Lybian Cat a-Mountains; though one attack it with envenomed Teeth, and t'other whisk about with Tabby Tails, can e'er prevail a jot.  Basil. 
But what said trusty Sancho, whom this strange. Adventure did most of all concern?  Don Quix. 
A Sot, a Swine, Drunk as a Bachinal, past saying any thing, quite drowned in sleep, his faculties all doz'd, ' nor could my Wisdom open his sealed Eyes, nor sound Instruction penetrate his Scull.  Quit. 
A mighty fault indeed, Sir Knight, considering the Credit of Knight Errantry's at stake, amongst whose Virtues cool Sobriety is still placed foremost,— I see it has a little troubled ye; but come, I hope Sir, this Evening's diversion will drive it from your thoughts, the Poppet Shows preparing, the mirth of that will mollify— And see here comes the Bride and Bridegroom, Messengers I warrant from Don Gayferos and Melisendra, to invite ye to't.  Enter Marry, and Jaques. Mary. 
Gad slidikins, come away Gentlefolks, the Motion's ready. Master Peter hath been so busy within yonder, he has almost sweated himself away with setting on't up; I Cod there's the purest fine things that ever was seen, there's curious fine Poppet with a long Train, that's in Yellow— and another curious fine Poppet that's in Carnation— and then there's one with a little round Pearmain-face, full of Patches— with a what d'ye call't, a Commode cocking— as 'twere any Lady, or Duchess, I Cod.  jaques. 
Ay, and then there's a Crumptious fine little Gentleman with a long Peruke, and a long Sword,— and about five inches long himself; so glistering and brave, that if he were in another place, he'd be taken for a Lord by Conscience— odsbodikins, pray come away quickly.  Quit. 
What says your Greatness, are your thoughts at leisure t'imploy themselves upon this Sport?  Don Q▪ 
Madam, your Beauty's Servant shall wait on you this moment, and the rather, because I think I see Sancho coming yonder, whose odious Metamorphosis from Man to Beast, is more horrible to me, than what I saw to day from Beast to Man.  Mary. 
I Cod, and there's my Mother with him too; get away Master Knight, if you love your hearing, for she's in such a plaguy fusse about losing the Ass to day, that she'll be as loud as a Storm; I'll warrant you may hear her forty mile, if the Wind sit right.  Basil. 
The Bride's in the right, Sir, therefore let's dodge 'em, 'tis no matter if they follow to the Poppet Show, there they'll be quiet— and perhaps cause more diversion, for they're both now in admirable humours for't. Aside to Carasco.  Caras. 
I'll stay behind a little, and blow the Coals, we shall have the Comical effect on't another time. Aside to Basilius.  Exeunt all but Car. Enter Teresa and Sancho Drunk. Ter. 
Don't let him tell me of Enchantment, and I know not what▪ the Ass is gone by, a mere trick, 'tis plain, and you, like a drunken Sot as ye are, to put it up thus▪ 'odsbores, I'd have pinched his lockram Jaws till I had made him bray again, but I'd have had my Ass again, or Mony.  Sancho. 
No noise, Crooked-Rib, no noise, as you hope to scape Correction. Reels.  Caras. 
I have some inkling— of your Affair Mistress— and truly am of your Opinion too— the Ass was gone by a Trick, and not Enchanted.  Teres. 
Enchanted, 'ods bores, no more than I am, Sir— which my Swine there shall understand when he's sober, or he shall have such a din about his ears shall make him weary on't.  Caras. 
Harkee, the Knights at bottom on't, I heard him say t'other day— Sancho was too well mounted— and that Dapple far outshined his Rosinante.  Teres. 
Why look there now; 'ods bores, were I a Man, he should have heard on't at both Ears I faith— but you see what I am yoked to there, Sir. Weeps.  
You see what a Condition he's in— he could pour whole quarts to day down his ungodly throat,— but could not spare me so much as a Knipperkin to wet my Whistle, as the Saying is.  Sancho. 
Reason,— Iniquity, Reason— I must not let my Mousetrap smell of Cheese; he that lets his Wife drink of every Cup, ugh, and his Horse at every Water, shall be sure to have neither of 'em good for any thing.  Caras. 
Ay, but to deny her a Knipperkin, friend Sancho, shows that you love to be a little in the mode, and done't value a Wife very much, who, introth to me appears now to be a very comely Person, a handsome presence, and very fair. Teresa simpers, and makes curtsies.  Sancho. 
Fair, ugh, ay, she's peerless Fair indeed; but d'ye hear Sir, the fairer the Hostess, the fouler the Reckoning; she's a plaguy Devil for all her fair looks.  Teres. 
Too good for him that has her, Gravel-face. Simpers, and makes curtsies to Carasso.  Sancho. 
How the jade smickers, and mops and mows at him.  Enter Mary in haste. Mary. 
Good Lord, Mother, if you are not bewitched, come away presently, Mr. Peter is just sending out a little little Gentleman all in Gold, to speak the Pro— Pro. I Cod I can't tell what they call it; come away with me, good now Mother, come away. Pulls Teresa.  Teresa. 
Will your Worship please to go first?  Ca●●s. 
Oh no▪ I'll lead ye thither. Exeunt, Teresa making mouths at Sancho.  Sancho. 
Hugh, she's very sweet upon his Worship, methinks— she gave me a scurvy look too, that was half as bad as calling me Cuckold to my face,— or does the scraggy Queen design to give me Horns to make herself fat? I believe the Jade has read the Proverb, that says, Change of Pasture makes fat Calves; humph— Zooks I'll go in and watch her water. Exit.   

SCENE II.  The Poppet-Show discovers one Poppet dressed like the Emperor Charlemagne Seated, another like Orlando Furioso, and a third like Archbishop Turpin standing by. On both sides of the Stage without, are Seated Don Quixot, Basilius, Carasco, Quiteria, Altisidora, Jaques, Mary. Then Enters Sancho, who sits down by 'Gins, who stands with a Rod in his hand to Explain the Motion; then Don Gayferos Enters as Prologue. 'Gins. 
Gallants, and Noble Auditors, in the first place, be pleased to observe, that before I discover who those Noble Persons are that appear yonder in motion— I must inform ye that this is the Valiant Don Gayferos, who respectfully introduced himself by way of Prologue. Come, Noble Knight, make your Honours, and begin. The Poppet bows to the Company, and Don Quixot rises up, and bows to the Poppet.  Don Quix. 
A Noble Presence, and by my Profession of Arms, looks like the Character is given of him.  Quit. 
The very shape and air of a Knight Errand, I warrant he'll fight for his Mistress briskly.  Basil. 
Oh like a Fury no doubt▪ his Whiskers declare as much.  Mary. 
Look Mother, look there's a fine little Man, there's clothes! Oh Lord, there's a Sword!  jaques. 
By Conscience that's he I told ye of, and he that sits within yonder, is a Pope I warrant.  Ters. 
A Pope,— a Fool, prithee let's hear a little.  Caras. 
This must be a very Noble Knight— his very looks are Valiant.  Sancho. 
Looks, oons— he looks as if he just came from the Sucking-Bottle,— he, a Knight Errand,— why he can fight with nothing but a Frog, nor that neither if it has e'er a Bulrush in's Claw.  Don Quix. 
D'ye hear that Rascal— that filthy Firkin there Gentlemen, will do nothing but stink, and disturb us: Pray give me leave to roll him out.  Basil. 
Oh! 'tis below ye, Sir, we consider Sancho's condition. Aside. I shall laugh out.  'Gins. 
Silence, Silence, pray Gentlemen,— Come▪ once more your Honour's Don, and then begin. Poppet bows again, and Don Quixot returns it.  

PROLOGUE  
YOu'll find by the Ensuing Matters,  
That I'm a Cuckold, kind Spectators;  
Resolved, for th' honour of our House,  
From Huckster's hands to free my Spouse:  
For tho' I'd wink at a small shame,  
A Cuckold's such a kind of Name,  
A Scandal so against the hair,  
Our Spanish Puncto cannot bear:  
No more than you can, that sit there.  
Besides, tho' Female Plagues are common,  
Yet there is something still in Woman;  
Some sweet alluring Jen Scay Quoy,  
Some pleasing pretty tickling Toy;  
Will make us venture without fears,  
Through Dangers— over head and ears:  
'Tis this that sends me to the Moors,  
To fetch her from those Sons of Whores:  
And spite of all their Guards, d'ye mind me,  
To make her gallop home behind me;  
As fast as e'er my Horse can carry,  
I've given my word,— so sit ye merry. Exit Prologue.   'Gins. 
This— Now Gentlemen, and Ladies, is Satirically merry, as most alluding to the present Custom of Writing Prologues.  Mary. 
I Cod, he spoke it purely, When shall we hear him again, I wonder?  Don Quix. 
Patience, patience, prithee go on Friend.  Altis. 
Oh! let me warm me by his fair Eyes— let me sit by him, his very touch will charm me. Oagles' Don Quixote.  Quit. 
I vow now I'll lock you up, if you are thus unruly— pray sit still Sir, I'll keep her from ye, she'll sit in your Lap else.  'Gins. 
Be pleased to observe now then, Courteous Spectators, that he that sits there with a Crown on's head, and a Sceptre in his hand, is the Emperor Charlemagne, the Father of the Princess Melisendra.  Teres. 
Look there now, he's an Emperor, d'ye hear— I thought he was no Pope.  Mary. 
Odds heartlikins, that ever I should live to see an Emperor! But hold, let's hear more.  'Gins. 
And he that stands by him there, with that fierce look, and Beard of Martial overture— is the very Scarecrow of France, and Flower of Knight Errantry Orlando Futioso, Cousin German to Don Gayferos, who would fain have tickled the Intellects of the emperor's youngest Daughter Angelica; but she, as great Ladies have their Fancies, rather thought fit to take up with Medoro her Page.  Don Q. 
No more of that, good Friend— Her Quality is too great to be jested with— And is that then, that most famed and most excellent of all our Order, Orlando Furioso— He was one of the twelve Peers, Gentlemen, the only Scourge of Rodomont and the Pagans. till he fell mad for Love of the bright Angelica. Oh most Heroic and Immortal Knight! I reverence thy Shoo-lappets.  'Gins. 
And now pray observe, Gentlemen, the moody Countenances that both the Emperor and the Knight have, because Don Gayferos makes no more haste to release the Princess Melisendra, who was ravished away by Marsilius' King of the Moors, and kept in a strong Call'st in Sensuenna. And pray note how Don Gayferos enters, wearing his Cousin Orlando's Sword Dirundina, which he had sent him to fight, and to free his Wife with. Pray likewise mark with what Submission he excuses himself to the Emperor, and with what Courage he resolves upon the noble Enterprise. Come Don Gayferos, where are ye?— Pox upon ye, why don't ye enter?  Don Q. 
No cursing, Friend; no cursing— Here the Noble Knight comes.  Basil. 
His Boots were not greased, I warrant; without doubt 'tis that has made him so tardy.  Enter Poppet Don Gayferos. Caras. 
Ay, or swift-footed Bayard might want shooing.  Teres. 
Odsbores, here he comes again; now we shall hear him claw it away, Marry.  Mary. 
Ah, ah, so we shall— I cod, 'tis the littlest tiniest thing for a Husband— I cod, if he were mine, I should not tell what to do with him, unless 'twere to carry him about with me in my Pocket. But come, now let's hear what he says.  P. Don G. 
‛ Great is my Sorrow, high and mighty Sir, To Charlemagne.  
‛ That I this Journey did so long defer:  
‛ But this a little may excuse the same,  
‛ My self have had ●ke Stone, my Horse was lame.  Carras. 
Ha, ha, ha— that was sad indeed.  Don Q. 
Oh! and by my Honour a very solid Excuse, and very reasonable.  Quitter. 
Extremely reasonable; for to have undertaken such an Enterprise in such a Condition, and on foot too, might have very much hazarded the happy Success.  Don Q. 
Right, Madam; it may be so indeed.  Mary. 
O lord, d'ye hear, Mother, he said he had the Stone— I cod, I'm sorry for that with all my Heart.  jaques. 
He would have but ill riding by Conscience. He said his Horse was lame too.  Teres. 
Well, well; I heard what he said well enough. Hark! he's going to speak again.  P. Don G. 
‛ But now all things are suiting to my mind,  
‛ My Horse is well before, and I behind;  
‛ I'll free my Spouse, spite of what e'er retards,  
‛ From the cursed Moorish King, and all his Guards.  
‛ For her Dirundina I thus unsheathe,  
‛ And speedy Death to all oppose, bequeath.  
‛ She shall behind me be on Courser placed,  
‛ And if she by the Pummel but hold fast,  
‛ I'll fetch her spite of Bars or Iron Lock;  
‛ And you to morrow, Sir, by Five a Clock  
‛ Shall find her in my Bed without-her Smock.  Bows, and Exit. 'Gins. 
Shall find her in Bed without her Smock. Very well, Sir Knight, and a very good Conclusion that.  Mary. 
I cod, that's pure; hoh, hoh, hoh— Did ye hear that, Mother?  Teres. 
Did I?— I think I did— 'Dslid, I begin to like the Man a great deal better than I did— Thou he's but little, there's Mettle in him, I see.  Sancho. 
‛ Oons, what plaguy Stuff's this!— Ugh, I can't understand a word on't, not I— I'll take t'other Nap, Gadzooks.  Basil. 
Now— What thinks the Noble Don Quixot? Does not your Brother Knight promise very fairly?  Don Q. 
Faith, yes; I like his Promise well enough: But to tell the Emperor her Father, that he should find her in Bed without her Smock, that methinks wanted a little Decency— He should have allowed her a little clean Linen to be seen in.  Quit. 
I confess I'm of the great Don Quixot's Opinion clearly; nay, it should have been very fine Linen too, to show her Quality.  Carasc. 
Ah, 'tis all one for that, if the Emperor owned her: A Princess is a Princess as well without a Smock as with one.  Mary. 
Come now, Mother— I wonder what's to be next, hah.  Teres. 
Pish, hold your Tongue; Master Peter will tell us presently.  'Gins. 
Now, Gallants, be pleased to observe, how the Scene changes to a strong Castle in Sansuenna, where the beauteous Melisendra is Imprisoned by Marsilius' King of the Moors; and cast your Eyes a little further, and you shall see him with her upon the Terras Walk, first making Love, then threatening her with Torments, if she reject it; which she, resolved on Constancy to her dear Spouse, contemns. Pray note 'em, here they come.  Enter Poppet Marsilius, and Poppet Melisendra. Teres. 
Oh Gemini! here's two pure fine things more.  Mary. 
Oh Lord, but one of 'em's a black thing tho; I warrant he's to eat the tother for being so fair.  'Gins. 
Observe how he seats her, and now commands some Persons of Art of his Retinue to entertain her with a Song and a Dance.  

SONG. Performed by Two Poppets, one representing a Captain, and t' other a Town Miss.  
To the Tune of a Minuet.  

Pop Capt.  
DEar Pinkaninny,  
If half a Guiny  
To Love will win ye,  
I lay it here down:  
We must be thrifty,  
'Twill serve to shift ye,  
And I know fifty  
Will do't for a Crown.   

Duns come so boldly,  
King's Money so slowly,  
That by all things holy  
'Tis all I can say.  
Yet I'm so wrapped in,  
The Snare that I'm trapped in,  
I▪ as I'm true Captain,  
Give more than my Pay.   

Pop Miss Sings.  
GOod Captain Thunder,  
Go mind your Plunder;  
Odzounds! I wonder  
You dare be so bold.  
Thus to be making  
A Treaty so sneaking,  
Or dream of the taking  
My Fort without Gold.   

Other Town Misses  
May gape at Ten Pieces;  
But who me possesses  
Full Twenty shall pay.  
To all poor Rogues in Buff  
Thus, thus, I strut and huff;  
So Captain Kick and Cuff,  
March on your way.  
To all poor Rogues, etc.    P. Mar. 
Since your bright Eyes and Beauties of your Face  
Have scorched my Heart like any burning Glass,  
Think not that I will longer bear your Scorn,  
Or cherish these strong Flames without return.  
If because I am black retards my Joy,  
I'll come at Night, and not offend your Eye.  
But if you flight my Love without Remorse,  
Rather than perish for you, I must force.  P. Melis. 
My Love long since locked up is given away,  
And of that Lock my Husband has the Key.  P. Mars. 
But for that Casket I a Picklock have.  P. Melis. 
A Picklock suits a Thief, Sir, not the Brave.  P. Mars. 
We all are Thiefs in Love's free Commonweal,  
And know the Treasure sweetest when we steal.  P. Melis. 
I know not what by stealing you may win,  
But through my Will you ne'er shall enter in.  
Don Gayferos my Heart must only have;  
A famed Knight Errand, valiant, bold, and brave.  Don. Q. 
Ah— Well said, sweet Lady— Now by my Knighthood thou deservest him richly.  P. Mars. 
I scorn Knights Errand, and such ragged Imps;  
Yours is a fool, and all the rest are Pimps.  Don Q. 
You're a black Son of a Whore, and ye lie; and by the Life of Amadis du Gaul, were you and I together on a Mountain—  'Gins. 
Oh good Sir Knight be patient— Good lack, Sir, the Poppet does not mean any thing to you, Sir; he only speaks the Words as they are writ.  Don Q. 
Such Words as those are odious and offensive.  Basil. 
That Jest was rarely timed, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Mary. 
I cod, I'm cruelly afraid for all this, that black Devil will swallow up that dear white pretty Creature.  Teres. 
No, no, Fool; I tell thee there's no harm in him; he only means to ravish her a little, or so.  jaques. 
Ay, ay— that must be all; my Mother-in-Law has hit it by Conscience.  Don Q. 
Go on then, Friend— I shall see how he behaves himself.  P. Mars. 
Since then for Diet Conjugal you moan,  
I'll teach you how to chew the Cud alone:  
In you strong Castle you shall guarded lie,  
And to refresh ye no one come but I. Exeunt, he dragging her.  Teres. 
Look'ee there now; he says 'll'l only refresh her. I told thee, he would not eat her—  Mary. 
Nay, then 'tis well enough.  Don Q▪ 
That Moorish Tyrant, Mr. Peter, is very barbarous; I have hardly Patience with him.  'Gins. 
Patience— 'Dsheart, this is ridiculous enóugh— He takes the Poppets for real Persons, ha, ha, ha, ha— Well, thus far you see how much the poor Princess is in Distress; but now cheer your Hearts, and lift your Eyes to behold the valiant Don Gayseros come prancing to Sansuenna, to release his Love and dearest Melisendra— You must suppose it now to be Night, and that by Instinct he has found her Window the North side of the Castle; and see how she appears there with a Paper, as ready to receive him. Poppet Melisendra comes to the Window.  Enter Poppet Don Gayferos on Horseback. Mary. 
I cod, here he comes; this is pure now; I hope he'll get her down, Faith.  P. Don G. 
Look down, bright Star, if Love has guided right,  
With glittering Beauty gilding gloomy Night,  
Appear, and bless thy amorous weary Knight.  P. Melis. 
Who calls with Voice as sweet as Morning Lark?  P. Don G. 
'Tis I, my Love, who come from France Inth dark,  
My dearest Piakaninny to set free.  P. Melis. 
Don Gayferos my Husband! Is it thee?  P. Don G. 
'Tis ●, 'tis ●, the truest kindest Spouse  
That ever Marriage Mousetrap did enclose.  P. Melis. 
Ah me! what shall I do?  P. Don G▪ 
Rouse up thy Wits,  
And through the Window slide down by the Sheets:  
Tie fast the Knot, and when thou hast done so,  
ay, thy Dear Spouse, will Horse thee here below:  P. Melis. 
I'll venture Bones and Neck, for who is she  
My Dearest Lord, would not be Horsed by thee?  Don Quix. 
Brave Lady, upon my Honour her Love and Constancy. move me so, that it brings the tears into my eyes, I could weep for her,— oh vexation— is that Teizer— still there to plague me? Altis. makes Love signs to him  Quit. 
This was a very passionate Scene indeed,— pray observe Altis. the little Rogue Acts it rarely. To Basilius.  Basil. 
Ha, ha, ha— I see her, she makes the rarest faces at him.  Mary. 
hay Boys, he Boys— she's coming Mother, she's coming down faith.  Teres. 
Ay, and if the Sheet be but tied fast now, she'll be Horsed in a twinkling.  jacques. 
The Gentleman's Nag stands very quiet too, I warrant he knows who he is to carry behind him.  'Gins. 
But now, Noble Spectators, to show Fortune's mutability in Love Affairs, and to show ye withal, the regular ingenuity of the piece we present— here is to be a turn— which is held by all to be a Beauty in Dramatic Writing; the turn therefore thus explains itself. Come Beauteous Lady Melisendra— open your Window, and come out.  Here Poppet Melisendra coming out of the Window to get down by the sheet, is hitched by a Tenter-hook, and hangs half way. P. Melis. 
Oh! Fortune, Fortune, still unkind to Love,  
I neither can get down— nor stay above.  'Gins. 
There's the turn now, she was just falling into his Arms, and now is hanged half way, upon a Tenter.  P. Don G. 
Why sighs my Love?  P. Melis. 
Alas! I'm hung i'th' Air;  P. Don. G. 
I'll cut thee down— with a swift Lover's care,  P. Melis. 
Ah, Sir, not for the World, my knees are bare:  
And something may undecently be shown,  
You must not peep upon, tho' 'tis your own:  P. Don. G. 
In such distress, we the best means must prove,  
To save your Modesty, I'll wink, my Love.  'Gins. 
Here you may observe the modest Candour of the Lady Melisendra's nice Character, who would not suffer herself to be unhitched, till Don Gayferos had promised her upon his Honour to wink: D'ye mark that?  Caras. 
That was nice truly, and considering she's a Married Woman too, very rare.  Mary. 
I Cod, I'll lend her my Muckender— here Friend, pray give her this to cover her knees a little, tho' 'tis course, 'tis clean.  Teresa. 
Pish, nay, prithee Mary let her alone.  Mary. 
What, and let every body see all— I Cod but I won't tho' done't you see how her Legs hang sprawling there; here friend, take it I say. Holds out her Muckender  'Gins. 
Oh thank ye, mistress, thank ye, but you see the Knight has done the business without— and now there's joy on both sides; get up, get up— quickly sweet Lady get up. Here Poppet Melisendra gets up behind Poppet Don Gayferos, and he gallops off with her.  Mary. 
hay Boys, hay boys, he has got her, he has got her, hogh, hogh, hogh, she's gone, she's gone, faith. Stands up, and jumps.  'Gins. 
But for all this good Success, you must now hear the fatal Catastrophe; for by this time some malicious Spies have informed the Moorish King she's fled, who presently Consults his Chancellor, Secretary of State, and Principal Officers of his Household and Army to fetch her back— To perform which, see on a sudden how they and all his Guards are ready, and he at the head of 'em, foaming with Rage. Hark, hark, pray hear what he says,— And see how the Emperor Charlemagne and his Party are, tho' far inferior in number, yet to assist Don Gayferos, have marched a Journey to meet 'em.  Here Poppet Marsilius appears at the head of the rest on Horseback, and Charlemagne and the rest on't' other side. P. Mars. 
Follow me, Sirs, I'll fetch her back again,  
And spite of th' feeble Power of Charlemagne,  
And all his Resty Knights, the Wench enjoy,  Don Quix 
Ye noisy blustering sooty Fool— ye lie. Here Don Quixot rises up in a rage.  
For as a Brother of her Husband's Order,  
And to revenge me on your Pagan Insolence, I the Renowned Don Quixot will defend her, and so have at ye all.  Here Don Quixot draws his Sword, and fancying he is to fight with Armed Men— cuts, slashes, hacks and demolishes the Spectators: All run out but Carasco, and Sancho. 'Gins. 
Hold, hold, why, Sir Knight— mercy on me, are ye mad? why these are but Poppets, they are not real— oh! undone, undone— why hold, hold— they are but Poppets, I tell ye.  Sancho. 
What's the matter now? hay— what, more fighting work, gad zooks, I'll get out of harms way. Exit.  Don Quix. 
Poppets, ay Pigmys too,— and would be Giants presently, if the Enchanters please— but I think I have mawled 'em, and the lady's at home by this time.  'Gins. 
Ay, you have mauled 'em, oh that ever I was born— my Motion spoiled, my Livelihood lost, oh, undone, undone, oh, Howls out.  Caras. 
Bless me, what a Massacre is here,— What have you done, Sir?  Don Quix. 
Done, Sir?  'Gins. 
Done Sir? ay, and undone, Sir— Oh Lord! was there ever such a mad prank?  Don Quix. 
Why, have I not assisted the Noble Knight Don Gayferos?  Caras. 
'Sdeath you have assisted nothing, Sir— the Figure●s were not real, you have only confounded the Motion, spoiled the Poppets, and undone the poor Fellow here.  Don Quix. 
Humph— why then by my Renown I thought 'em all in earnest, and being very angry with that black King there for his insolence, gave my relief accordingly.  'Gins. 
You thought— ay that's fine amends for me indeed— will your thought mend my Motion— Oh unfortunate hour, oh! Howls.  Caras. 
Peace Friend, the generous Knight will consider on't, and pay thee for thy loss.  Don Quix. 
'Tis I confess against my Order to do wrong— therefore go Fellow, gather up thy fragments, and put rates upon 'em, I'll make thee satisfaction.  'Gins. 
Why look ye, in the first place, here's the Emperor Charlemagne with his head off, oh poor Emperor, Takes up the Poppet. I shall never get such another, it deserves a Pistol as well as one Penny deserves another— but Six and Eight Pence I must have for him, that's the lowest.  Don Quix. 
Is this that Noble Emperor that so boldly held Paris against the Pagans? Oh, I heartily beg his Pardon, and am ashamed to see him thus dismembered— thou shalt have Six and Eightpence Friend.  'Gins. 
But then, oh dismal to behold— here's Orlando Furioso without an Arm, and his neither Jaw— here's a Furioso for ye, here's a Knight Errand, a router of Giants, and killer of Dragons, see how he looks— oh dismal to behold Shows the Poppet.  Caras▪ 
Sirrah— hold that up at a good rate, Knights Errand are worth money.  'Gins. 
I know't, I know't— Aside.  
As for him, considering his Chivalry, I look upon him to have twice the value of the Emperor, a Pistol is the least, the least that can be, and cheap too.  Don Quix. 
'Tis so indeed— but prithee take him from my sight Friend, for I cannot look on the Brave Knight thus hacked without remorse of Conscience— and by his Fame I cannot help confessing that I deserve for those two blows I gave him, to be served so myself: But prithee go on Friend.  'Gins. 
Then here's Archbishop Turpin— pox on't, I go to Church so seldom myself, that I don't know how to value a Bishop.  Caras. 
Ha, ha, ha, what would I give Basilius were here!  'Gins. 
Then here's— the Chancellor— and Privy-Counsellor to the black King— Gad forgive me, one without a Nose, and t'other an Ear snipt off, and three fingers of his left hand; let me see, a King's Chancellor and Privy-Counsellor— I should have a Statesman here now, to help to value these.  Don Qix. 
They should be valued 'tis true by their own Peers— But come, make haste Friend.  'Gins. 
Why look ye then, Nine Pence a Piece I think one with another; for you know one must rate them according to their honesty, and as they are true to their trust.  Caras. 
Very reasonable, faith.  Don Qix. 
Ay, ay, 'tis so— but come, without praising more in particular, let's know what thou valuest the rest at in a lump, and come in and take your Mony.  'Gins. 
You have gelt the King's Captain here too, maimed above twenty of the Guards, and hamstringed their Horses; Oons you laid about ye like a Devil, so that between Turk and Jew, if you'll pay for them in the lump I think forty shillings more will but just do.  Don Qix. 
That makes in all much about three pound; well, come in, and thou shalt have it Fellow.  Caras. 
Why this is Noble, like Don Quixot's Character.  'Gins. 
Why bless him I say, and send him to be a King as soon as possible. 'Gins makes mouths at him.  Don Quix. 
All this now was for want of heed and patience. But we must do right, good Sir, we must do right, for here I was in the wrong unhappily. 
Fate send me far from such another broil,   'Gins. 
And me more Motions, for such Fools to spoil. Exeunt.  
End of the Fourth Act.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Basilius, Carasco, Quitteria and Altisidora. Basil. 
HA! ha! ha! has he paid the Poppet-Man?  Caras 
To a Farthing, and is now retired there into that Closet to avoid the intolerable passion, as he calls it, of your Niece Altisidora.  Quit. 
His skulking up so close shan't hinder our coming diversion; for we have a new Plot upon him, our new Dairy-maid is to Act Enchanted Dulcinea— and Altis. is ready here for a new attack upon him.  Altis. 
I intent to tease him now with a whimsical variety, as if I were possessed with several degrees of Passion— sometimes I'll be fond, and sometimes freakish; sometimes merry, and sometimes melancholy,— sometimes treat him with Singing and Dancing, and sometimes scold and rail as if I were ready to tear his eyes out. Go you to your peeping place, and you shall see such a Scene.  Basil. 
And then I have given order to the Servants to supply Sancho with more liquour— we must have a Combat Royal about the Ass too, or we lose half our sport.  Caras. 
Time enough for that anon. Let your Niece Act her Whim first: Come, let's to our Peeping-Hole, I hear him moving within.  Exeunt all but Altisidora, who knocks at the Door. Don Q. within. 
What boldness dares me from my Thoughts remove? What art thou? Speak.  Altis. 
A Votary of Love;  
Fond as the Lids that close those precious Eyes,  
From whence, tho' Sun be missing, Day does rise.  Enter Don Quixot undressed in his Nightcap. Don Q. 
Oh luckless Maid! Why dost thou follow me?  Altis. 
I can't help it, ye sweet, sweet honyman you.  Don Q. 
Thou talk'st Erroneously— I am not sweet; none of our bustling Order can be so— nor am, nor ever was, a Honey Pot: I've not a drop of Honey, Child, about me. Man's but a better sort of Animal— If he be brave and honest, he may smell— in Virtues sweet, though he's himself not Amber—  Altis. 
Ah— me— Must I ne'er hope then to find Grace— in those adored black Eyes?  Don Q. 
Grey, grey— Another notorious Mistake— my Eyes are grey as Grimalkin— Bless me! how blind is Love?  Altis. 
Grey let them be then; they are twinkling still, and in their Sockets like two farthng Candles burn out themselves, and leave poor me in Darkness.  Don Q. 
Ha!— there's another sign now, how much the poor Creature's Sense is disturbed— her defect in Simile; she would else have put in Tapers of Four in the Pound— For to say my Eyes are like Farthing Candles, is but a diminutive Compliment.  Altis. 
Death, Dungeon, Darkness, Furies, Fate, and Fire! What's in him that can cause this Wrack within me? For now I consider better, and look on him, he's not handsome a bit; nay, by my Virginity here she starts into her freakish Fit not tolerable, nor so sweet as a Dock-leaf, nor so cleanly as a Radish new pulled— his Shape awkward and ghastly.  Don Q. 
So.  Altis. 
And his Face— ugly and abominable.  Don Q. 
Very good— she looked Eastward last Minute, but now some little Cub Devil sits upon the Fane of her Fancy, and turns it Northerly.  Altis. 
And then for his foolish Profession, his Knight Errantry.  Don Q. 
Ha—  Altis. 
'Tis the most absurd, the most ridiculous, the most— hah! what am I saying? here she turns in a very passionate Tone. O mighty Love, forgive me; I lie, I lie, I lie, I lie, he is handsome, he is sweet, he is clean; his Wit is admirable, his Profession glorious; his Shape a Droit, and grateful as a Hero's; his Fame serene, and charming as a Cherubin.  Don Q. 
hay— show me, thou famed and skilful Mariner, the Face of the unfathomed Gulf of Florida, where Winds from all the Corners of the Globe, by fickle Nature change their Course each moment, and I'll show thee this other Gulf of Woman— Young as she now appears, yet right, right Woman— Woman, that like the satire in the Fable, can with the selfsame Breath blow hot and cold.  Altis. 
Ah— must then, Dulcinea— have ye all— what parts has she— beyond me— look in my face— Is it not pretty—  Don Q 
Compared with hers, a Pebble to a Diamond— A virgin indeed thou art like her, and—  Altis. 
Younger I'm sure by far— Perhaps too young; but I'll so swell my Breasts, and heave and fall, and mould 'em with my Hands to make 'em grow— pull down my Stays, that they may show themselves, and Jet it up and down. jets up and down the Stage Pray mind me, Sir, to show my Shape and Air; that as the Loadstone does the Obedient Iron— should draw by force to me all Hearts but yours— Sighs, and looks amorously on him  Don Q. 
Thus will it be wherever I reside— If Women chance to see me, there is a Saying old and very famous, That when a Man's a Favourite of the fair, he has been wrapped up in his Mother's Smock. Sure mine, to make me charm thus, flayed herself, and made me Blankets of her very Skin.  Altis. 
Has Dulcinea Legs? I'll lay ten Ducats that mine are straighter; for if Fame not lie— she had the Rickets once▪ and hers are crooked; her Feet too big and splay, as I have heard, and turn in like a Mawkins at a Boarding-School. But loak how small mine are, like little Mice. Shows her Feet. And had I leave to speak of other matters— ah, Sir—  Don Q. 
By Fame, if I don't 〈◊〉 her, the Creature is so rapt, that she'll talk Bawdy.  Altis. 
She may boast of gaining ye by her rare Qualities; but, Sir, did I but show—  Don Q. 
No, Maid▪ no showing— I will conceive things well of ye without it— 'tis as I said— Oh strong effect of Passion!  Altis. 
I mean some rare Perfections of the Mind, as well as Graces of the Body, Sir. Come now, you shall see me sing and dance, and how far I excel dull Dulcinea. Here Altisidora sings.  
In Five Movements. 

1. Movement. Love.  
FRom Rosy Bowers, where sleeps the God of Love,  
Hither ye little wanting Cupid's fly,  
Teach me in soft melodious Strains to move,  
With tender Passion my Heart's darling joy..  
Ah! let the Soul of Music tune my Voice  
To win dear Strephon, who my Soul enjoys.   

2. Movement. Gaily.  
Or if more influencing,  
Be doing something airy,  
With a Hop and a Bound,  
And a Frisk from the round,  
I'll trip, trip like a Fairy.  
As when on Ida dancing  
Were three Celestial Bodies,  
With an Air and a Face,  
And a Shape and a Grace,  
Let me charm like Beauty's Goddess.   

3. Move. slow. Melancholy.  
Ah! 'tis in vain, 'tis all, 'tis all in vain,  
Death and Despair must end the fatal Pain;  
Cold, cold Despair disguised, like Snow and Rain  
Falls on my Breast: Bleak Winds, in Tempest's blow,  
My Veins all shiver, and Fingers glow:  
My Pulse beats a dead March for lost Repose,  
And to a solid lump of Ice my poor fond Heart is froxe,   

4. Movement. Passion.  
Or say, ye Powers my Peace to Crown,  
Shall I thaw myself, and drown  
Amongst the Foaming Billows,  
Increasing all with Tears I shed;  
On Beds of Ooze, and Crystal Pillows,  
Lay down my Love sick Head.   

5. Movement. Swift. Frenzy.  
No, no, I'll straight run mad,  
That soon my Heart will warm;  
When once the Scense is fled,  
Love has no Power to Charm.  
Wild thro' the Woods I'll fly,  
And dare some savage Boor;  
A thousand Deaths I'll die,  
ere thus in vain Adore.    D. Q. 
This I confess, another Heart might charm, but mine is Constant as the Northern Star— and Dulcinea only must Enjoy it.  She pauses, and then Frowns. Alis. 
Let her Enjoy it then, and some Ten Thousand, some Fifteen Hundred, Fourscore and odd Furys; take her for her pains; but I'll not Die however— No, hear me, Don Bullet-head; thou Jack-a-lent, fit to hang on a Sign Post; thou Scheliton of Barber Surgeons-Hall; thou Wall-nutt-coloured, Lean Jawed, Head of a Base Viol— thou Baboon on Cockhorse, fit only to ride before the Bears: Thou maimed, miserable, mischievous, mouldy, mangy, Maggot-eaten Monster: Thou poor, paltry, Pimping, putrified, proud, Penny-less Puppy, hear me. Merlin is coming, he'll revenge all my Wrongs;  
I see him there in Vision, and Dulcinea with him, 
Who spite of thee, shall be Enchanted still,  
And so thou Withered Eel-skin stuffed, farewell.  Exit in a Rage.  Merlin and Dulcinea rise out o'th' Stage. Don. Q. 
Why, what a Hurricain of Extravagancy is there in Woman, when she's once enraged— but hold, either my Senses fail me, or Dulcinea greets my Eyes indeed— 'Tis so, and the Immortal Merling with her. Could then that little passionate Imp speak Truth? O Gracious Figures! what do ye intend?  Dul. 
To fricassee thy Soul, thou dull performer of womens' business, when there's most occasion; and to Dine upon thee, if I could get leave of my Reverend Keeper here, to have my Wish and Diet that I long for: Is this the honour of Knight Errantry, to promise and not do? Oh most dishonourable! was I not to be freed from my Enchantment by some few Lashes laid on lazy Sancho? Yet to thy lasting shame, the Debts not paid yet, when tho' he might be resty— yet a Lover, as thou pretendest to be— might have Engaged him, or at least have▪ from its Covering, stripped thy own tough Hide, and with a Horse Whip or strong Bridle Reigns, have given thyself five hundted Jerks by Proxy; this had begun a means for my releasement; but on th' contrary, I have a Rival here; and Dulcinea is no more remembered than the Old Boots are when they are left off. Well, since 'tis so, farewell Ingrate for ever; I'leto my Cave again, far under ground— 
Chaw Roots and Acorns, and Enchanted lie,  
Worm Eaten Knight and musty Squire defy;  
And wish they both were hanged, and so Good-bye.  Descends.  Don Q. 
Stay Princess, sweet surprising Vision, stay. I have been much to blame in not performing, by my Authority, dull Sancho's Task— which when I meet him next, shall trebly make amends; and see blessed Fortune sets him before my Eyes this very moment, but in a vile Condition— Drunk— no matter; that may now chance to be Convenient to make him bear his Whipping-Pennance better.  Enter Teresa, and Sancho. Tere. 
Here he is and I'll begin with him first myself— here's a foul House as one may say in a twinkling, the whole Family is together by the ears already— the Ass was lost yesterday, and Master Carasco tells us your Worship can tell within a mile of an Oak where he is— and now the New Married Couple have lost their Purses that were given 'em, no one knows how, and they believe each other is the Thief; there's a fowl House within yonder.  Don Qix. 
Prithee Woman leave me, why prat'st thou to me of Purses and of Asses, I cannot hear these vulgar matters now— Sancho, a word.  Teres. 
Vulgar Matters— nay, then let me tell ye, as vulgar as the matter is, your Worship is shrewdly suspected to have a hand in't— and that the Ass and you are not far off one another.  Don Qix. 
Alas I hear thee not, nor mind thee, To Tersa. Come hither Sancho— I have had a Vision just now of Dulcinea— has torn my heart in pieces— she complains Sancho—  Sancho. 
Look ye, Master, ●ine— ugh— let's divide things equally, ugh, Dulcinea— is your Friend, and Dapple is mine.  Don Qix. 
Still muttering about Dapple— what dost thou mean, why dost thou clog my ears with thy strange folly?  Teres. 
Your ears, Odslidkins I'll be drumming there this Month unless we have the Ass— you need not have put this trick upon us, my Husband has not got so much in your Service.  Sancho. 
Well said, ugh— Buttock— thou'rt in the right, and d'ye hear, Sir, as great as you are, remember this, the Nightingale and Cuckoo sing both in a Month, therefore let Dapple be produced— what, I am not grown so Rich with being a Squire, but I can miss 'em, when any of my goods are purloined— better have a Mouse in the Pot, than no Flesh at all— Dapple was a considerable movable.  Teres. 
I am sure, if I had brought him forth— I could not have been more careful of him— and therefore Odsbores, bring him again, and quickly, of— you shall hear such a noise— Noise within. I must be gone now to make peace between Mary and her Husband, whom I hear in a filthy squobble yonder— but if Dapple be not forthcoming against I come back again— the Roaring Sea shall be nothing to me. Exit Teres.  Don Qix. 
Was ever such a Couple joined as these, one's Drunk and dosed, t'other bewitched, and mad— but at this juncture I must bear with all— and as I was telling thee Sancho, the Beauteous Dulcinea complains— as well she may, of our remissness to her, that thou hast not yet given thyself the Lashes— nor I ungrateful have refreshed thy memory— but come, five hundred I expect this moment— the Place is as it should be, still, and proper, thy Doublet too unbuttoned seems consenting— and I myself will help thee to unstrip.  Sancho. 
Strip— yes, yes, you are good at stripping— my Wife says you have stripped me of my Dapple already— and if you can, strip me of my Doublet too, gad zooks you shall strip me of my Skin, and that will be pretty difficult.  Don Qix. 
No, flaying will be overdoing it— some brisk smart Lashes to the blood or so, will serve to disenchant the Princess, and those thou hast already given thy word for.  Sancho. 
Ay— ugh, that may be— but there's difference between a word and a blow, Signior— besides, I promised for a Government worth something— now my Government happening to be worth nothing, my Promise is void in Law.  Don Qix. 
Come, I'll bear part with thee, to honour the performance, I'll take off fifty from thee, and flaug myself.  Sancho. 
That you may— and to honour— the performance, as you say, I'll help you to unstrip, if you please— but by thinking to have me curried, is a malignant design upon my person; come, come, Sir, 'tis a hard Winter when one Wolf eats another; if Dapple had been here, and promises performed— some Lashes might have followed, but now—  Don Qix. 
What now, ungrateful?  Sancho. 
Why now I shall say unto my Buttocks— ugh, Friends mine sit ye down in a whole skin— for if flauging must do yours and the princess's business— all that I can advice is, to flaug one another.  Don Qix. 
You shall be kicked into compliance, incorrigible Rascal.  Sancho. 
harkee Master mine— not a Word more of kicking— A small Sum, look'ee, will pay a short Reckoning, I am not so much in your Debt now Dapple's gone— to bear that; and therefore if you kick here, as the Song says, were you as good as George a Green, I should make bold to kick again.  Don Q. 
Oh Slave! What? Rebel against thy Natural Lord! I'll pound thee into Ashes. Here they fight; Don Quixot falls, and Sancho gets astride on him.  Sancho▪ 
Ay, ay, come on— many Words go to a bargain— Now have I great Enter Basilius, Quitteria and Altisidora mind to beat him from a Knight to a Squire, that we may be both upon equal terms.  Basil. 
Wonder of Wonders! What's this I see? Don Quixot overthrown, and by his Varlet too— Why how now, Sancho!— d'ye know who you are pounding so?  Sancho. 
Why, he was for pounding me; and now you see the Dice are turned, I'm pounding him. They take him off.  Altis. 
What! the famed Knight swinged by his Man. Oh! I shall die to see this— ha, ha, ha—  Don Q. 
Have then my cruel Stars disgraced me thus, Knight Errantry avaunt— forgot be Dulcinea— I'll never see the Sun shine forth again.  Rises up, and runs out in a Rage. Quitter. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha; this is Currasco's Trick upon him; I find he has been managing Sancho.  Basil. 
Here comes 〈…〉 of 〈◊〉 and brawling; never was Marriage turned to such a Counter-Scuffle.  Enter Teresa, Jaques, and Mary. Mary. 
Come, come, say what you will I'll have my Purse again; I cod, I won't be choosed so— What▪ take away your Wife's Money the first Week of her Marriage? Ah, Nicompoop▪  jaques. 
You choosed— No, no, 'tis— I am choosed by Conscience. What? D'ye think I'm blind? D'ye think I can't see how things go between ye?  Teres. 
Between us— Come Son-in-law, don't put your Afflictions upon me, you had not best, for though I've had my Daughter's concerns, I have never had your Concerns in my Hand, I'm sure— And say what you will, you must have the Money, or no body; and truly, as she says, 'tis a Nicompoop thing to be so Forty the first Week— No body robs their Wives the first Week they are married, whatever they do afterwards.  Basil▪ 
How's that? robbed d'ye say '  Quitter. 
Of the Purses we gave 'em, I warrant.  Mary. 
Ay, as true as you are there, Madam; and I never handled it but once since I had it.  Teres▪ 
●y, and I'd have it 〈◊〉 and upon his Knees too, or he should never handle 〈◊〉 long 〈◊〉 he had a Nose on's Face, if I were as Mary.  Mary. 
No more he shan't, I 〈◊〉. Clapping her Hands.  jaques. 
‛ S●udoi● think you are all mad— I know no more what's become of th● 〈◊〉, than I know what I did before I was born. And if I must no●●andle, nor have to do with my own Wife, Mother-in-law, by Conscience that's very hard— Come, I'll tell ye what we'll do; we'll go 〈…〉 Cunning Man— he'll tell us which way 'tis gone presently.  Teres. 
Do, do, Mary ● since he's so crank about it.  Mary. 
With all my heart— to the Cunning Man, faith— He'll ask the Devil, but he'll tell us what's become of 'em— And if I have but this, if ever thou gettest any thing of▪ Mine in thy hands again, 
Then tell 〈◊〉 thy Friends once in thy Life  
Thou found'st a Cuckold ●isen than his Wife.  Exeunt.  Enter Carrasco. Basil. 
How now Friend, thou look'st as if thou wert big with some new Event▪ what's the matter?  Carrasc. 
'Dsheart, we have carried the Jest too far, the Knight is dying yonder— swooned twice at his Chamber-door, and is now got to Bed, and has sent for a Notary to make his Will. He's troubled with delirious Fits too; for ● hear him often mutter Dulcinea— but against Sancho he rails perpetually.  Quit 
Nay, this last Miscarriage must needs stick upon his Conscience, if he has any, as long as he lives— Come let's go and comfort the Knight. See Sancho looks wisely now, this frightful News has made him sober. Exeunt Bas. Quit▪ and Car.  Carrasc. 
To beat his Master— Oh Incorrigible!  Sancho. 
Oh— Drink, Drink, Drink— thou Devilish damnable Enemy, that dost more to a Man's Brains in a Minute, than all the good they can recompense in his Life-time: Thou jordan of fowl Juice, thou hast undone me— I shall never get into favour again now— nor into his Will I'm sure, and that's worse— Well, I'll go to him, fall down on my Knees, and if he does not pardon me— rise instantly and hang myself at the Window. Oh Drink, Drink, Drink! Exit.   

SCENE II.  Don Quixot is discovered in Bed, Basilius, Quitteria, Carrasco, Notary▪ and Servants standing by; Sancho enters cringing, and looking sneakingly. Don Q. 
Remove my Pillow— set me up a little— so, speaks squeaking and sickly draw near, pray Gentlemen— What, Sancho too? Ah— thou ungodly— Vermin. Sancho cringes, and shakes his Head.  Sancho. 
I'll hang myself, Sir— I can do no more.  Basil. 
No faith— that's pretty reasonable satisfaction.  Don Q▪ 
Egh, egh— you wonder, Sir— sat this sudden Alteration; but this is nothing in the hand of Providence— Thousands that are struck so have died e'er this time— Therefore pray wonder not, but e'er I go witness my Will— and so farewell— Are ye ready, Friend?  Notary. 
Yes, Sir, yes; begin when you please.  Quitter. 
Methinks his Sense is very clear now.  Notary. 
For a minute or two, Madam— but then he falls to strange Extravagancies— I am only here to humour him.  Don Q. 
Well first then— egh, egh— without complementing the Worms about my Carcase; for 'tis so lean and scraggy, that they'll have but poor feeding— I give my chiefest Quality, my Knight Errantry, to the veriest Idiot amongst my Countrymen, that he may have it in his Head to conquer Kingdoms; and that he may be heartily drubbed about it as ● have been— Quickly, quickly, set it down, I say.  peevishly. Notary. 
I do, I do, Sir. Now pray observe— Now the Fit begins.  Don Q. 
In the next place I bequeath my Valour, which in me was but a worse sort of Itch, to all the Cowards and faint-hearted in the Armies abroad, that they may fight with one another to the end of the World, without knowing why or wherefore.  Carrasc. 
That is indeed— a very mad Legacy.  Basil. 
Satirical tho if you mind it.  Don Q. 
Egh, egh— Set me a little higher— so— my Conscience and one half of my Brains— I give to the French— that— they may learn to be contented with their own Country— and not leap like wild Horses into other's mens' Ground, till they are secure their Neighbours are not strong enough to lash'em out again.  Quit. 
These are I confess, more than common Legacies.  Basil▪ 
Well said again▪ Faith— punc;  Don Q. 
To all Statesmen Politicians, Privy-Counsellors, and such like, I bequeath my Integrity of Soul to be an Umpire between their Gain and their Honesty— that when ever they chance to boil over in 'em, it may cool and allay, like a Wooden-Ladle, when the Fire hath provoked the Pottage into fury.  Basil. 
A Solon— A Solon— I say still.  Don Q. 
To the great Clergy, and the small— I give my Voice and Lungs, loud and sound as they were at twenty— and a good will to use 'em often— they preach so faintly now▪ as if they were ashamed of their Trades, and the Priest dozes at Church as often as the Parish.  Caras. 
Good again▪ that was close somewhere too.  Don Qix. 
To all Knights of the Curtain, Court-followers, and so forth,— I generally bequeath— the Empire that I proposed to myself to get, to defray their reasonable Expenses, till they come to Preferment.  Notary. 
This is strange, I expected he would have changed— before now.  Don Qix. 
Give me a Tun of Wine there— Bourdeux, Burgundy, Sherry, Shampaign, quick, quick, I grow thirsty. Starts suddenly into a Rage.  Notary. 
Oh, now, Sir, mind him▪  Don Qix. 
My Soul's upon a Spit alive— I feel it Roasting— hark, it squeaks like a Lobster; some Wine, I say— ye Scoundrel.  Sancho gives him a Bottle, trembling he drinks. 
Hum— hum— your ears once more, my Friends. Mildly again. To all Old Bachelors, Drunkards, and Amoretoes above Sixty Five and upwards— I give— humph— I give— a Whore— and a Bottle, Throws his Nightcap at Quitteria, and the Bottle at Basilius. that they mayn't lose their Character at last, but die as they lived in their Calling.  Notary. 
I told ye there would be a turn,— see now he's calm again.  Don Qix. 
To all Loyal and Wise Citizens that are Married, I soberly bequeath my hollow eyes, and my hearty patience, that they may never see the sprouting of their own Horns, nor grumble at the payment of the King's Taxes.  Caras. 
That's soberly said enough, I'll swear.  Don. Quix. 
You too— that wait here to see my End, must have some remembrance; and first to you, Sir, that are newly Married, I frankly give my lepid Age, and limber Experience, that by knowing the folly you have committed now, it may prevent ye from Conjugating a second time.  Quit. 
How's that, Sir Knight?  Don Quix. 
Nay, nay, no noise, no noise, and ye shall all have something— to you, Madam, I give and transfer, and much good may it do ye, my Chastity, to support your own, for a Woman of your Age and Constitution— has not singly enough to keep her honest, I'm sure.  Basil. 
Ha, ha, ha— the Knight grows merrier as he draws nearer the bottom.  Don Quix. 
To you, Sir, that are a great Scholar— and Book-learned, I bequeath my Wit and gentile Air, to help your College Breeding; for search the Universities, and you'll find this Saying true, Th' greatest Clerks are still the awkerd'st Blockheads.  Caras. 
Oh, thank ye, Sir, I should be loath to have been left out.  Don Quix. 
Lastly, to Sancho there,—  Sancho. 
Ay, a small Purse, if you please, poor honest Sancho, Sir.  Don Quix. 
Dull, Saucy, Drunken Sancho, I do bequeath two Gallons a day of my Small-beer— to keep him cool from state of reprobation, during his Life—  Sancho. 
Small-beer, Oons, that's small Comfort; well, I'll go get the Rope ready, oh, oh, oh— Weeps, and goes out.  Don Quix. 
This is all, Sirs, there's no great need of Executors, or Overseers— the Will can walk alone, without Leading-strings— and now methinks I would fain rest a little.  Basil. 
Do, Sir, and to divert your melancholy, and cheer the fading Spirits, we'll treat ye with some Musical Performance, you used to love it, let 'em begin there.  Here follows the last Entertainment of Singing and Dancing, which Ended, Don Quixot sleeps. 

A Dialogue Sung between Lisis and Altisidora, a Boy and a Girl, supposed to be Brother and Sister.  

I  Lisis. 
AH my Dearest Celide,  
T'other day I asked my Mother,  
Why thy Lo●ging changed must be,  
Why not still lie with thy Brother?  Altis. 
I remember well you did,  
And I heard too what she said.  
Lisis, You're a great Boy grown,  
Therefore now must lie alone.  Lisis. 
To part us the Custom of Modesty Votes,  
Unless both had Breeches,  Altis. 
Or both had long Coats.   

II.  Lisis. 
Ah! what mischief can there be  
In these little tyny Breeches,  
That can part me thus from thee;  
Sures there's Witchcraft in the stitches.  Altis. 
Or what Devil here resides,  
That my Petticoat thus hides;  
Mother Laughs an hour or two,  
When I sometimes ask to know.  Lysis. 
Why a He,  Altis. 
And a She,  Lysis. 
May not Bed at our Size,  Altis. 
As well as two Girls,  Lysis. 
Or as well as two Boys.   

III.  Lysis. 
I will since I'm kept from you,  
Get a Wife as soon as may be,  Altis. 
And I'll get a Husband too,  
Three times bigger than my Baby:  Lisis. 
Father to Mamma tells all,  
When in Bed they chatting fall.  Altis. 
And when we are Married too,  
We as much as they shall know.  Lisis. 
The Secret will out,  Altis. 
In Comparing of Notes,  Lisis. 
What's hid in these Breeches,  Altis. 
Or lies in these Coats.  Chorus of both. 
Let's laugh then, and follow our innocent play,  
And Kiss, when Mamma is gone out of the way;  
For I fear, I fear, we shall cry when we know,  
'Tis all that a Brother and Sister may do.    Basil. 
He's fallen asleep, remove him out there softly, 'twill either ease or end him.  Quit. 
'Tis pity he's condemned such Extravagance, the man has Excellent parts.  Caras. 
And on all Themes, excepting his Knight Errantry, most ready and acute.  Basil. 
Come, Sweet, let's take the Air. 
Whilst I amongst all great Contentments known,  
Looking on thee, am happiest in my own.  Curtain falls.  
FINIS.