Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Don Quixote, his quality and manner...
 In search of adventures
 Sets out again with his squire...
 Beaten with pack-staves
 Don Quixote attacks the flock of...
 Mambrino's helmet
 Don Quixote does penance in the...
 Adventure with the wine-skins
 Don Quixote seized by officers...
 Sets out a second time with his...
 Don Quixote and Sancho arrive at...
 The knight of the looking-glas...
 Don Diego de Miranda
 Camacho's wedding
 The enchanted bark
 Sancho's conversation with the...
 The afflicted matron and her bearded...
 Sancho made governor of the island...
 Sancho, as governor
 Sancho's wife and daughter
 End of Sancho's government
 Don Quixote leaves the castle
 Don Quixote's dancing
 Don Quixote and Sancho carried...
 Don Quixote and Sancho reach their...
 Back Cover

Title: The adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00083160/00001
 Material Information
Title: The adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha
Physical Description: x, 503 p., 6 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 20 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Jones, M
Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de, 1547-1616
Gilbert, John, 1817-1897 ( Illustrator )
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Ballantyne, Hanson and Co ( Printer )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Publisher: George Routledge and Sons
Place of Publication: London ;
Manufacturer: Ballantyne, Hanson and Co.
Publication Date: 1895
Subject: Don Quixote (Fictitious character) -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Panza, Sancho (Fictitious character) -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Quests (Expeditions) -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Imagination -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Chivalry -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Windmills -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pragmatism -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Social life and customs -- Juvenile fiction -- Spain -- 16th century   ( lcsh )
Picaresque literature -- 1895   ( gsafd )
Adventure fiction -- 1895   ( gsafd )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre: Picaresque literature   ( gsafd )
Adventure fiction   ( gsafd )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Scotland -- Edinburgh
England -- Manchester
Statement of Responsibility: adapted for the young by M. Jones ; with 206 illustrations by Sir John Gilbert and other artists and six page coloured plates.
General Note: Illustrations engraved by Dalziel.
Funding: Beatrice Roslyn Robertson collection.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00083160
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223537
notis - ALG3787
oclc - 35186212

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover
    Front Matter
        Page i
        Page ii
    Half Title
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Title Page
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
        Page ix
        Page x
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Don Quixote, his quality and manner of life
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    In search of adventures
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 26a
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Sets out again with his squire Sancho Panza
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Beaten with pack-staves
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Don Quixote attacks the flock of sheep
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    Mambrino's helmet
        Page 82
        Page 82a
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    Don Quixote does penance in the Sierra Morena, or Sable mountain
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 106a
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    Adventure with the wine-skins
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
    Don Quixote seized by officers of justice
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
    Sets out a second time with his squire
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
    Don Quixote and Sancho arrive at Toboso
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
    The knight of the looking-glasses
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
    Don Diego de Miranda
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
    Camacho's wedding
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
    The enchanted bark
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
        Page 320
        Page 320a
    Sancho's conversation with the duchess
        Page 321
        Page 322
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
        Page 332
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
        Page 341
    The afflicted matron and her bearded ladies
        Page 342
        Page 343
        Page 344
        Page 345
        Page 346
        Page 347
        Page 348
        Page 349
        Page 350
        Page 351
        Page 352
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
    Sancho made governor of the island of Barataria
        Page 366
        Page 367
        Page 368
        Page 369
        Page 370
        Page 371
        Page 372
        Page 373
        Page 374
        Page 375
        Page 376
        Page 377
        Page 378
    Sancho, as governor
        Page 379
        Page 380
        Page 381
        Page 382
        Page 383
        Page 384
        Page 385
        Page 386
        Page 387
        Page 388
        Page 389
        Page 390
        Page 391
        Page 392
        Page 393
        Page 394
        Page 395
        Page 396
        Page 397
        Page 398
        Page 399
    Sancho's wife and daughter
        Page 400
        Page 401
        Page 402
        Page 403
        Page 404
        Page 405
        Page 406
        Page 407
        Page 408
        Page 409
        Page 410
        Page 411
        Page 412
        Page 413
        Page 414
        Page 415
        Page 416
        Page 417
        Page 418
    End of Sancho's government
        Page 419
        Page 420
        Page 421
        Page 422
        Page 423
        Page 424
        Page 425
        Page 426
        Page 427
        Page 428
        Page 429
        Page 430
        Page 431
        Page 432
        Page 433
        Page 434
        Page 435
        Page 436
        Page 437
        Page 438
    Don Quixote leaves the castle
        Page 439
        Page 440
        Page 441
        Page 442
        Page 443
        Page 444
        Page 445
        Page 446
        Page 447
        Page 448
        Page 449
        Page 450
        Page 451
        Page 452
        Page 453
        Page 454
        Page 455
    Don Quixote's dancing
        Page 456
        Page 457
        Page 458
        Page 459
        Page 460
        Page 461
        Page 462
        Page 463
        Page 464
        Page 465
        Page 466
        Page 467
        Page 468
        Page 469
        Page 470
        Page 471
        Page 472
        Page 473
        Page 474
        Page 475
        Page 476
    Don Quixote and Sancho carried off to the castle by strange horsemen
        Page 477
        Page 478
        Page 479
        Page 480
        Page 481
        Page 482
        Page 483
        Page 484
        Page 485
        Page 486
        Page 487
        Page 488
        Page 489
        Page 490
        Page 491
    Don Quixote and Sancho reach their own village
        Page 492
        Page 492a
        Page 493
        Page 494
        Page 495
        Page 496
        Page 497
        Page 498
        Page 499
        Page 500
        Page 501
        Page 502
        Page 503
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

The Baldwin Librar,
j( rm2- Houi \

~ICIII~I lllllsll~a~ll~llll~ll~a~l~

ct L,

c~qRstc~ ~gL~ak~t~











. .. .. ..


'.._ HOPE I have not spoiled the dear, delightful
S'.-^ l-/ old Don, by cutting out some of the tedious-
ness of his biographer. The rambling episodes
of those days are wearisome in these; whilst
some other little matters also required accommodating to
modern notions, and to young readers, for whom what
I have done is more specially designed. The central
figure of the crack-brained, but high-minded, and, save
for his madness, right-thinking Spanish gentleman, I
have tried to bring out with an appreciative hand. Nor
has honest Sancho been touched less reverentially. They
are a brace of worthies whose intrinsic goodness can only
be equalled by their exquisite follies. And so I leave the
twain, to be laughed at and admired by all who can enjoy
fun, and discern nobility of character, however disguised
by oddity or eccentricity.
Jarvis's translation is the one that has been used for my
purpose. And I have only to add that I have scrupulously
retained the original, homely, vigorous diction of that best
presentation to English readers, of the marvellous creation
of Cervantes. M. J.


Don Quixote, his quality and manner of life-He prepares for
his adventures-Sets out-Is dubbed knight 3


In search of adventures-His first redress of wrongs-Adventure
with the merchants of Toledo-Brought home, battered and
bruised-His friends burn his books of chivalry 17


Sets out again with his squire Sancho Panza-Adventure with the
windmill-With the monks and Biscainer-Entertained by
the goatherds .30


Beaten with pack-staves-Takes the inn for a castle-Mishap at
the inn-Balsam of Fierabras-Sancho tossed in a blanket. 50


Don Quixote attacks the flock of sheep-The fulling-hammers-
Sancho makes game" of his master, and suffers for it .66


Mambrino's helmet-Adventure of the galley-slaves-Sancho's
ass stolen from under him 82


Don Quixote does penance in the Sierra Morena, or Sable
Mountain-The knight's letter to Dulcinea del Toboso-
Sancho's account of his visit to Dulcinea, whom he had
never seen 98

Adventure with the wine-skins-Don Quixote's discourse on
learning and arms-Trick played upon him at the inn-
Dispute concerning Mambrino's helmet and the pack-saddle z12

Don Quixote seized by officers of justice-Carried home in a
cage by his friends 151

Sets out a second time with his squire-Sancho's discourse with
his wife Teresa Panza 176

Don Quixote and Sancho arrive at Toboso-Sancho sent to the
Lady Dulcinea-Dulcinea enchanted-Adventure with the
strolling players 199

The Knight of the Looking-glasses-Don Quixote overthrows
him in combat 22


Don Diego de Miranda-Adventure of the lions 241


Camacho's wedding-Cave of Montesinos-Adventure with the
puppets-Sancho's peace-making. 260


The enchanted bark-The duke and duchess-Don Quixote's
reception at the castle-His beard washed-How Sancho
fared 285


Sancho's conversation with the duchess-Goes a-hunting with the
duke and duchess-How Dulcinea was to be disenchanted
-Sancho consents to whip himself 32


The Afflicted Matron and her bearded ladies-The magic steed 342


Sancho made governor of the island of Barataria-His master
gives him instructions for his conduct-Sancho departs for
his government-Don Quixote's adventure with the cats 366


Sancho as governor-A state-dinner-Sancho in a rage-How
he administered the law 379


Sancho's wife and daughter-A bundle of letters 400


End of Sancho's government-Sancho sets off, on his ass, to the
duke's castle-Falls into a pit-Gives an account of his
government 419


Don Quixote leaves the castle-Adventure with the bulls-The
knight's reception at Barcelona 439


Don Quixote's dancing-Fight with the Knight of the White
Moon-Worsted by him, and compelled to relinquish arms
for a twelvemonth-Resolves to turn shepherd 456


Don Quixote and Sancho carried off to the castle by strange
horsemen-How Sancho disenchants Altisidora-And how
he performed his whipping 477


Don Quixote and Sancho reach their own village-The knight
falls ill-Recovers his senses, and dies 492


''Muddled bis brains by reading books of chivalry-full of stories of knights

and enchanters."





Don Quixote-Preparesfor his adventures-Sets out-
Is dubbed knight.

N a village of La Mancha, in Spain, there once
lived one of those gentlemen who usually keep a
lance upon a rack, an old target, a lean horse,
and a greyhound for coursing. A dish of boiled
meat, consisting of somewhat more beef than
mutton, the fragments served up cold on most nights, lentils on
Friday, bread and pull-it on Saturdays, with a small pigeon
by way of addition on Sundays, consumed three-fourths of his
income. The rest was laid out in a surtout of fine black cloth,
a pair of velvet breeches for holidays, with slippers of the same;
and on week-days he prided himself on the very best of his own
homespun cloth. His family consisted of a housekeeper, some-
what above forty, a niece not quite twenty, and a lad for the
field and the market, who both saddled the horse and handled
the pruning-hook. The age of our gentleman bordered upon fifty
years. He was of a robust constitution, spare-bodied, of a meagre
visage; a very early riser, and a keen sportsman.
Now this gentleman, whose name was Alonza Quixana, had
so muddled his brains by reading books of chivalry, stuffed full
of stories of knights, and enchanters, and the like, that at last
he imagined he was bound to turn knight-errant himself, and
wander about the world in search of adventures. So, to pre-
pare for this, the first thing he did was to scour up a suit of

armour, which had been his great-great-grandfather's, and being
mouldy and rust-eaten, had lain by, many long years, forgotten
in a corner. This he cleaned and furbished up the best he
could; but he perceived it had one grand defect, which was,
that instead of a helmet, there was only a simple morrion or

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K' V ',

steel-cap ; a want which he dexterously supplied by contriving
a sort of visor of pasteboard, which, being fixed to the head-
piece, gave it the appearance of a complete helmet. It is true,
indeed, that, to try its strength, and whether it was proof against
a cut, he drew his sword, and, giving it two strokes, undid in an
instant what he had been a week in doing. But not altogether


approving of his having broken it to pieces with so much ease,
to secure himself from the like danger for the future he made
it over again, fencing it with small bars of iron within, in such
a manner, that he rested satisfied of its strength; and without
caring to make a fresh experiment on it, he approved and looked
upon it as a most excellent helmet.
He had a wretched horse, all skin and bone, but to his crazi-
ness it seemed the most admirable steed in the world; and after
puzzling himself for four days to find a name for it, he fixed
upon that of Rozinante, as being both expressive and stately.
Eight days' more puzzling supplied him with a name for himself,
that of Don Quixote de la Mancha-La Mancha being the name
of his province.
His armour being now complete, and his steed, with himself,
new named, nothing was wanting but some beautiful damsel, of
noble birth, for the love of whom he might perform such
wondrous deeds as knights-errant of old were wont; and a good-
looking country girl, who lived hard by, was chosen for this,
under the high-sounding title of Dulcinea del Toboso-Toboso
being the village where she was born.
All being ready, he got up before daybreak one hot July
morning, and, without saying a word to any one, armed himself
from head to foot, managed to stick his helmet on his head,
mounted Rozinante, braced on his shield, and, grasping his
lance, let himself out of his back-yard into the open plain. But
he had not gone far, when it suddenly occurred to him that
before seeking out any adventures he ought to have been dubbed
a knight, and also to wear plain, white armour, without device on
the shield, until his own valour had gained him one. It was a
terrible difficulty; got over, however, by making up his mind
to be dubbed, according to the usage of chivalry, by the first
knight whom he met, and to scour his armour on the earliest
opportunity, until it was as white as snow. Then giving his horse
the rein, he jogged along leisurely until night-fall, when, seeing
two young women standing at the door of an inn, which his
crazed imagination took for a castle, all turrets and battlements,
with drawbridge, moat, and everything else that belongs to a
stronghold, he drew near, fancying them the ladies of the place.
The girls were so frightened at seeing a man armed in that


manner, with lance and buckler, that they ran off into the house.
Upon this, Don Quixote, lifting up the pasteboard visor from his
dusty, meagre face, courteously entreated them not to fly, as it
*', *




%: jI

-~~.. --'~ -

was impossible for a knight to injure any one, much less ladies
of their exalted rank. The girls laughed so at this, and the
knight got so angry at their rudeness, that the landlord, hearing
the fuss, came out; and, with much ado to keep his countenance



at the ridiculous figure before him, civilly said, If your wor-
ship is in quest of a lodging, bating a bed (for in this inn
there is none to be had), everything else will be found here in
great abundance." Don Quixote, perceiving the humility of the
governor of the fortress (for such to him appeared the inn-
keeper and the inn), answered, Anything will serve me, Signor
Castellano, for arms are my ornaments, and fighting my repose."
The host thought he called him Castellano because he took him
for an honest Castilian, and therefore replied, If it be so, your
worship's beds are hard rocks, and your sleep the being always
awake; and since it is so, you may venture to alight, being sure
of finding in this poor hut sufficient cause for not sleeping a
whole twelvemonth, much more one single night." So saying,
he went and held Don Quixote's stirrup, who alighted with much
difficulty and pains, for he had not broken his fast all that day.
He presently requested of the host to take especial care of his
steed, for he was the best piece of horse-flesh that ever ate bread
in the world. The innkeeper did not think him half so good as
Don Quixote represented him to be, but, putting him up in the
stable, returned to see what his guest would be pleased to order,
whom the damsels were unarming (for they were already recon-
ciled to him); and though they had taken off the back and
breast pieces, they could not find out how to unlace his gorget,
or take off the counterfeit beaver, which he had fastened in such
a manner with green ribbons, that, there being no possibility of
untying them, they must of necessity be cut, which he would by
no means consent to. So he remained all that night with his
helmet on; the strangest and most ridiculous figure imaginable.
Whilst the girls were taking off his armour, imagining them to
be persons of the first quality, and ladies of that castle, he said
to them, with great gaiety, "Never sure was knight so nobly
served by ladies as was Don Quixote, after his departure from
his village : damsels waited on his person, and princesses on
his steed. 0 Rozinante for that, dear ladies, is my horse's
name, and Don Quixote de la Mancha is my own; for though
I was not willing to discover myself, until the exploits done for
your service and benefit should discover me, the time will come
when your ladyships may command, and I obey; and the valour
of my arm shall manifest the desire I have to serve you." The


girls, who were not accustomed to such flourishes, answered not
a word, but only asked whether he would be pleased to eat any-

- 1'
I,,. '1''

thing. "With all my heart," answered Don Quixote; "any-
thing eatable would, I apprehend, come very seasonably." That
day happened to be Friday, and there was nothing to be had in


the inn excepting some miserable little dried trouts, which they
offered him, saying they had nothing better. So there be many
troutlings," answered Don Quixote, "they may serve me instead
of one trout. But, be that as it will, let it come quickly; for
the toil and weight of arms cannot be supported without abun-
dant food." They laid the cloth at the door of the inn, for the
sake of the fresh breeze; and the landlord brought him some

of the ill-dried and worse-cooked fish, with a loaf of bread as
black and mouldy as his armour: but it was matter of great
laughter to see him eat; for, having his helmet on, and the
beaver up, he could not put anything into his mouth with his
own hands, but somebody must do it for him; and so one of
the aforesaid ladies performed this office. To give him drink,
however, would have been utterly impossible, if the host had not
bored a reed, and, putting one end into his mouth, poured in


II i


the wine leisurely at the other; all which he suffered patiently,
rather than cut the lacings of his helmet.
In the meantime there came to the inn a cow-doctor, who, as
soon as he arrived, sounded his whistle of reeds four or five
times; which entirely confirmed Don Quixote in the thought
that he was in some famous castle, that they served him with
music, and that the poor jack was trouts, the coarse loaf the
finest white bread, the girls ladies, and the host governor of the
castle; and so he concluded his resolution to be well taken, and
his sally attended with success. But what gave him the most
disturbance was, that he was not yet dubbed a knight; thinking
he could not lawfully undertake any adventure, until he had first
received the order of knighthood. So, finishing his supper in
haste, he called the landlord, and, shutting himself up with him
in the stable, fell upon his knees before him and said, "I will
never rise from this place, valorous knight, until your courtesy
vouchsafes me a boon I mean to beg of you; which will redound
to your own honour, and to the benefit of human kind." The
host stared at him, and not knowing what to do or say, strove to
raise him from the ground, but in vain, until he had promised to
grant him the boon he requested. I expected no less, sir, from
your great magnificence," answered Don Quixote; "and there-
fore know, the boon I would request, and has been vouchsafed
me by your liberality, is, that you shall to-morrow morning dub
me a knight. This night in the chapel of your castle I will watch
my armour: and to-morrow, as I have said, what I so earnestly
desire shall be accomplished; that I may be duly qualified to
wander through the four quarters of the world, in quest of adven-
tures, for the relief of the distressed, as is the duty of chivalry,
and of knights-errant."
The host, who was an arch fellow, and had already entertained
some suspicions of the madness of his guest, was now thoroughly
convinced of it; and, to make sport for the night, resolved to
keep up the joke. So he told him a long rhodomontade about
himself having been a knight-errant in his young days, adding,
that there was no chapel in his castle, in which to watch his
armour (for it had been pulled down in order to be rebuilt); but,
in cases of necessity, it might be watched wherever he pleased,
and that he might do it that night in a court of the castle: the


next day he should be dubbed a knight so effectually, that no one
in the world could be more so. He asked him also whether he
had any money about him? Don Quixote replied, he had not a
farthing, having never read, in the histories of knights-errant, that
they carried any. To this the host replied, that he was under a
mistake, and advised him never to travel without money, clean
shirts, and some other useful matters. This was taken in good
part; and order being presently given for performing the watch
of the armour, in a large yard adjoining the inn, Don Quixote,
gathering all the pieces of it together, laid them upon a cistern
that stood close to a well; then bracing on his buckler, and grasp-
ing his lance, with a solemn pace he began to walk backward and
forward before the cistern, beginning his parade just as the day
shut in.
The host told all that were in the inn of the fun that was going
on. So they came out to have a look at our knight, and saw
that, with a composed air, he sometimes continued his walk; at
other times, leaning upon his lance, he looked wistfully at his
armour, in the bright moonlight, without taking off his eyes for a
long time together.
While he was thus employed, one of the carriers, who put up
there, had a mind to water his mules, and it was necessary first
to remove Don Quixote's armour from off the cistern: who,
seeing him approach, called to him with a loud voice, Ho!
there, whoever thou art, rash knight, that approaches to touch
the arms of the most valorous adventurer that ever girded sword,
take heed what thou doest, and touch them not, unless thou
wouldst leave thy life a forfeit for thy temerity." The carrier
troubled not his head with these speeches (it had been better
for him if he had), but, taking hold of the straps, tossed the
armour a good distance from him; which Don Quixote perceiv-
ing, lifted up his eyes to heaven, and fixing his thoughts (as it
seemed) on his mistress Dulcinea, said, "Assist me, dear lady,
in this first affront offered to the breast enthralled to thee;
let not thy favour and protection fail me in this first moment
of danger." Uttering these and the like ejaculations, he let slip
his target, and lifting up his lance with both hands, gave the
carrier such a blow on the head, as laid him flat on the ground,
in such piteous plight that, had he seconded the blow, there


would have been no need of a surgeon. This done, he gathered
up his armour, and walked backward and forward with the same
gravity as at first.
Soon after, another carrier, not knowing what had happened
(for still the first lay stunned), came out with the same intention
of watering his mules; and as he was going to clear the cistern,
by removing the armour, Don Quixote, without speaking a word,
or imploring anybody's protection, again let slip his target, and

lifting up his lance, broke the second carrier's head in three or
four places. All the people of the inn ran out together at the
noise, the innkeeper among the rest, and the comrades of those
that were wounded began to let fly a shower of stones at Don
Quixote; who sheltered himself the best he could under his
shield, and durst not stir from the cistern, lest he should seem to
abandon his armour. The host cried out to them to let him alone,
for he had already told them he was mad, and that he would be

--Page 15.


acquitted as a madman though he should kill them all. Don
Quixote also cried out louder, calling them cowards and traitors,
and the lord of the castle a poltroon and a base-born knight, for
suffering knights-errant to be treated in that manner; and that,
if he had received the order of knighthood, he would make him
smart for his treachery: "But for you, rascally and base scoundrels,"
said he, "I do not value you a straw: draw near, come on, and
do your worst; you shall quickly see the reward you are like to
receive of your folly and insolence." This he uttered with so
much vehemence and resolution, that he struck a terrible dread
into the hearts of the assailants : and for this reason, together
with the landlord's persuasions, they forbore throwing any more
stones; so he permitted the wounded to be carried off, returning
to the watch of his armour with the same tranquillity and sedate-
ness as before.
The host now thought it high time to dub him knight before
worse came of it; so telling him he had already sufficiently watched
his armour, and that knighthood might (in case of need) be as
well conferred in the middle of a field, as in the chapel of a castle,
he brought out the book in which he entered the accounts of the
straw and barley he furnished to the carriers, and, with the two
girls, a boy carrying an end of candle before them, he came where
Don Quixote was, whom he commanded to kneel. Then, reading
as if out of his book, in the midst of it he lifted up his hand, and
gave him a good blow on the nape of the neck, and after that,
with his own sword, a handsome thwack on the shoulder, still
muttering in a low tone. This done, he ordered one of the
ladies to gird on his sword, which she did with the most obliging
freedom, and discretion too, of which not a little was needful
to keep them from bursting with laughter; but indeed, the
exploits they had already seen our new knight perform kept
their mirth within bounds. At girding on the sword, the lady
said, May you be a fortunate knight, and victorious in battle."
Don Quixote asked her name, that he might know to whom he
was indebted for the favour received; for he intended her a
share of the honour he should acquire by the valour of his
arm. She replied that she was called La Tolosa, and was a
cobbler's daughter of Toledo. Don Quixote then desired her,
for his sake, thenceforward to add to her name the Donna, and


to call herself Donna Tolosa; which she promised to do. The
other buckled on his spurs, and was also entreated to make
a lady of herself, by adding the Donna to her surname of
This done, the knight immediately mounted Rozinante, and,
with a thousand thanks to the host for the favour he had con-
ferred upon him, set forth in search of adventures.

K: ---


tW -rlW.T Ot


In search of adventures-His first redress of wrongs-Adventure
with the merchants of Toledo-Brought home, battered and
bruised-His friends burn his books of chivalry.

T was about break of day, when Don Quixote issued
forth from the inn, so delighted to see himself
knighted, that the joy thereof almost burst his
horse's girths. But recollecting the advice of his
host concerning the necessary provisions for his
undertaking, especially the articles of money and clean shirts, he
resolved to return home, and furnish himself accordingly, and also
provide himself with a squire: purposing to take into his service a
certain country-fellow of the neighbourhood, who was poor, and
had children, yet was very fit for the squirely office of chivalry.
With this thought, he turned Rozinante towards his village; but
had not gone far, when, on his right hand, from a thicket hard
by, he fancied he heard a weak voice, as of a person complaining.
Scarcely had he heard it, when he said, "I thank Heaven for the
favour it does me, in laying before me so early an opportunity
of complying with the duty of my profession, and of reaping the
fruit of my honourable desires. These are, doubtless, the cries
of some distressed person, who stands in need of my protection
and assistance." And turning the reins, he put Rozinante for-
ward towards the place from whence he thought the voice came.
He had entered but a few paces into the wood, when he saw
a mare tied to an oak, and a lad to another stripped from the
waist upwards, who was the person that cried out; and not
without cause, for a stout country-fellow was laying on him very
severely with a belt, and accompanying every lash with a repri-
17 B


mand and a word of advice; for, said he, "The tongue slow and
the eyes quick." The boy answered, "I will do so no more,
dear sir; indeed, I will never do so again; and I promise for
the future to take more care of the flock."

i ./ '

\ ^ I.11 I

r Ir

/w. "- -_-: ,

Now Don Quixote, seeing what passed said in an angry tone,
!i....., 'i -' -:- J .- ,

"Discourteous knight, it ill becomes thee to meddle with one
who is not able to defend himself; get upon thy horse, and take
thy lance" (for he had also a lance leaning against the oak, to
which the mare was fastened), for I'll make thee know that it


is cowardly to do what thou art doing." The countryman, seeing
such a figure coming towards him, armed from head to foot,
and brandishing his lance at his face, gave himself up for a dead
man, and, with good words, answered, "Signor Cavalier, this
lad, whom I am chastising, is a servant of mine; I employ him
to tend a flock of sheep which I have hereabouts, and he is so
careless, that I lose one every day; and because I correct him
for his negligence or roguery, he says I do it out of covetousness,
and for an excuse not to pay him his wages; but, upon my
word, he lies."-" Lies, in my presence pitiful rascal," said Don
Quixote; "by the sun that shines upon us, I have a good mind
to run thee through and through with this lance: pay him imme-
diately, without further reply; if not, I vow I will despatch and
annihilate thee in a moment! Untie him instantly!" The
countryman hung down his head, and without replying a word,
untied the boy. Don Quixote asked the lad how much his
master owed him, who answered, nine months' wages, at seven
sixpences a month. Don Quixote reckoned it, and found that
it amounted to sixty-three sixpences; so he bade the countryman
instantly disburse them, otherwise he must expect to die for it.
The fellow in a fright cried out, that it was not so much; for he
must deduct the price of three pair of shoes he had given the
lad upon account, and sixpence for physic when he was not well.
"All this is very right," said Don Quixote; "but set the shoes
and the physic against the stripes you have given him unde-
servedly; so that upon these accounts he owes you nothing."-
"The mischief is, Signor Cavalier," said the countryman, "that
I have no money about me; but let Andres go home with me,
and I will pay him to the last penny."-" I go with him !" said
the lad; "not I; for, when he has me alone, he will lace my
jacket with a vengeance."-" He will not do so," replied Don
Quixote; "it is sufficient that I lay my commands upon him;
and upon condition he swears to me, by the order of knighthood
which he has received, I will let him go free, and will be bound
for the payment." And so saying, he clapped spurs to Rozinante,
and was soon a good way off.
The countryman followed him with all the eyes he had; and
when Don Quixote was out of sight, he turned to his man
Andres, and said, "Come hither, child, I am resolved to pay


thee what I owe thee, as that redresser of wrongs commanded
me."-"So you shall," said Andres; "and you will do well to
perform what that honest gentleman has commanded, who, if
you do not pay me, will certainly come back and execute what
he has threatened."-" And so say I too," said the countryman;
" but to show thee how much I love thee, I am resolved to aug-
ment the debt to increase the payment !" And taking him by
the arm, he tied him again to the tree, where he laid upon him
smartly, with many threats of worse in store for him. Andres
went away in a passion, vowing he would find out the valorous
Don Quixote de la Mancha, tell him all that had passed, and
his master should pay for it sevenfold.
The valorous Don Quixote was extremely well pleased with
himself for this; and coming presently to the centre of four
roads, he stood still a while, after the manner of knights-errant,
to consider which he should take. At last, he let go the reins,
submitting to be guided by his horse, who took the direct road
toward his stable. Having gone about two miles, Don Quixote
discovered a company of people, who, as it afterwards appeared,
were certain merchants of Toledo, going to buy silks in Murcia.
There were six of them, and they came with their umbrellas, four
servants on horseback, and three muleteers on foot. Scarce had
Don Quixote espied them, when, imagining it some new adven-
ture, he determined to imitate, as near as possibly he could, what
he had read in his books. So he settled himself firmly in his
stirrups, grasped his lance, covered his breast with his target,
and, posting himself in the midst of the highway, stood waiting
the coming up of those knights-errant, for such he judged them
to be. When they were come so near as to be seen and heard,
raising his voice, he, with an arrogant air, cried out, "Let the
whole world stand, if the whole world does not confess, that
there is not in the whole world a damsel more beautiful than
the empress of La Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso."
The merchants stopped at these words, and by them, together
with the strange figure of the knight, soon perceived the madness
of the speaker; whereupon one of them, who was somewhat of
a wag, said to him, Signor Cavalier, we do not know who this
lady you mention may be; let us but see her, and if she is of so
great beauty as you intimate, we will, with all our hearts, confess


that truth you demand from us."-" Should I show her to you,"
replied Don Quixote, "where would be the merit in confessing
a truth so evident ? the business is, that, without seeing her, you
believe, confess, affirm, swear, and maintain it; and if not, I
challenge you all to battle, proud and monstrous as you are:
and, whether you come on one by one (as the laws of chivalry
require), or all together, as is the custom and wicked practice
of those of your stamp, here I wait for you, confiding in the
justice of my cause."-" Signor Cavalier," replied the merchant,
"I beseech your worship, in the name of all the princes here
present, in order that we may not lay a burden upon our con-

.--^^ ~~~- -.. _:__---_-- : --- -..

sciences, by confessing a thing we never saw nor heard, that your
worship would be pleased to show us some picture of this lady,
though no bigger than a barleycorn ; and herewith we shall rest
satisfied, and your worship remain contented, for indeed we are
already so inclined to side with your worship, that I verily believe,
if her picture showed her as ugly as sin, we should, just to oblige
you, protest she was as beautiful as an angel."-" Base scoun-
drels," answered the knight, in a rage, "the lady Dulcinea is
perfection itself, and you shall pay dear for your monstrous
ignorance of her transcendent beauty."
And so saying, with his lance couched, he ran with so much


fury at him who had spoken, that, if good fortune had not
ordered it that Rozinante stumbled and fell, in the midst of his
career, it had gone hard with the daring merchant. Rozinante

' cI1-~- -

fell, and his master lay rolling about the field a good while,
endeavouring to rise, but in vain; so encumbered was he with
his lance, target, spurs, and helmet, and with the weight of his


antique armour. While he was thus struggling to get up, he
continued calling out, Fly not, ye dastardly rabble; stay, ye race
of slaves; for it is through my horse's fault, and not my own,
that I lie here." A muleteer of the company, not over good-
natured, hearing the poor fallen gentleman speak in this arrogant
fashion, could not stand it, so, coming to him, took the lance,
and, after he had broken it to pieces, with one of the splinters
he so belaboured Don Quixote, that, in spite of his armour, he
threshed him as though he were wheat. His masters cried out
to leave him; but the muleteer was provoked, and would not
quit the game until he had quite spent the remainder of his rage.
So, running for the other pieces of the lance, he finished the
breaking them upon the poor fallen knight; who, notwithstanding
the tempest of blows that rained upon him, never shut his mouth,
threatening heaven, and earth, and those assassins; for such
they seemed to him. At length the fellow was tired, and the
merchants went on their way, leaving the poor belaboured knight,
who, when he found himself alone, tried again to raise himself;
but if he could not do it when whole and well, how should he
when bruised and almost battered to pieces? Yet still he thought
himself a happy man, looking upon this as a misfortune peculiar
to knights-errant, and imputing the whole to his horse's fault.
But certainly he was horribly bruised, and finding that he was
not able to stir, he began to lament his fate in such sort as he
thought a knight-errant ought to do. Just at that moment,
there passed by a countryman of his own village, who had been
carrying a load of wheat to the mill; who, seeing a man lying
stretched on the earth, came up and asked him who he was,
and what ailed him. Don Quixote returned him no answer,
but went on with his lamentation; upon which the man, who
did not know what to make of it all, took off his visor, which was
beaten to pieces, wiped his face, which was covered with dust;
and the moment he had done wiping it, knew him, and said,
"Ah, Signor Quixada, how came your worship in this condi-
tion ?" To which the knight returned him nothing but rambling
The good man seeing this, made a shift to take off his back
and breast piece, to see if he had received any wound; but he
saw no sign of any hurt. Then he endeavoured to raise him

from the ground, and with much ado set him upon his ass, as
being the beast of easier carriage. He gathered together all the
arms, not excepting the broken pieces of the lance, and tied them
upon Rozinante; and so taking him by the bridle, and his ass
by the halter, went on toward his village, utterly bewildered by
the nonsense which Don Quixote, groaning amain, and so bruised
and knocked about that he could scarce keep upon the ass, con-
tinued to pour out.

In this fashion they reached the village about sunset; but the
peasant stayed until the night was a little advanced, that the
people might not see the poor battered gentleman so scurvily
mounted. When theyarrived at Don Quixote's house, it was all
in an uproar. The priest and the barber (who was also the
doctor of the place), Don Quixote's great friends, happened to
be there; and the housekeeper was saying to them, "What is
your opinion, Signor Pero Perez" (for that was the priest's
name), "of my master's misfortune ? for neither he, nor his horse,
nor the target, nor the lance, nor the armour, have been seen


these six days past. Woe is me I am verily persuaded that
these books of knight-errantry, which he is so often reading,
have turned his brain; and now I think of it, I have often heard
him say, talking to himself, that he would turn knight-errant, and
go about the world in quest of adventures. Out upon all such
books that have thus spoiled the finest understanding in all La
Mancha." The niece joined with her, and said, Know, Mr.
Nicholas" (for that was the barber's name), "that it has often
happened that my honoured uncle has continued poring over
these books of misadventures two whole days and nights; then
throwing the book out of his hand, he would draw his sword,
and fence with the walls; and when he was heartily tired, he
would say he had killed four giants as tall as so many steeples,
and that the sweat, which ran from him, when weary, was the
blood of the wounds he had received in the fight. Then he
would presently drink off a large jug of cold water, and be as
quiet and well as ever, telling us that water was a most precious
liquor brought him by a great enchanter, who was his friend.
But I take the blame of all this to myself, that I did not tell you,
gentlemen, of my dear uncle's extravagances, before they had got
so bad, that you might have prevented them, by burning all
those books, of which he has so great store, and which justly
deserve to be committed to the flames."-" I say the same," said
the priest; "and to-morrow shall not pass without overhauling
them, and condemning them to the fire, that they may no more
turn the head of my good friend."
All this the peasant and Don Quixote overheard, and the
former called to them to open the door. At hearing this they
all came out; and, as some knew their friend, and others their
master and uncle, they all ran to embrace him, who was not yet
alighted from the ass, for indeed he could not. Forbear, all of
you!" he cried, "for I am sorely wounded through my horse's
fault: carry me to my bed; and, if it be possible, send for the
sage Urganda, to search and heal my wounds."-" Look ye,"
said the housekeeper immediately, "if my heart did not tell me
right, on which leg my master halted. Get upstairs; for, with-
out the help of that same Urganda, we shall find a way to cure
you ourselves. Confounded, say I again, and a hundred times
confounded, be those books of knight-errantry that have brought


your worship to this pass." They carried him to his room,
and searching for his wounds, found none at all: but he told
them he was only bruised by a great fall he got with his horse
Rozinante, as he was fighting with ten of the most prodigious
and audacious giants that were to be found on the earth. "Ho,
ho," says the priest, "what! there are giants too, are there?
Well, I shall set fire to them all before to-morrow night." They
asked Don Quixote a thousand questions, and he would answer
nothing, but only desired something to eat, and that they would
let him sleep, which was what he stood most in need of.
Whilst he still slept on, the priest asked the niece for the keys
of the chamber where the books were, those authors of the
mischief; and she delivered them with a very good will. They
all went in, and the housekeeper with them. There were above
a hundred volumes in folio, very well bound, besides a great
many small ones; and the priest ordered the barber to reach
him the books one by one, that he might see what they were
about; for, perhaps, they might find some that did not deserve
to be burned. "No," said the niece, "there is no reason why
any of them should be spared, for they have all been mischief-
makers; it will be best to fling them out of the window into the
court-yard, and make a pile of them, and set fire to it, or else
carry them into the back-yard, and there make a bonfire of them,
and the smoke will offend nobody." The housekeeper said the
same; but the priest would not agree to that without first read-
ing the titles at least.
Those books took a great deal of overhauling. The first, after
examination, was spared. The second was condemned utterly,
the priest bidding the housekeeper open the casement, and throw
it into the yard as the beginning of the pile for their intended
bonfire; and, nothing loth, she sent it flying. Another lot was
sentenced, and, as there were great numbers of them, the house-
keeper, to save herself the trouble of the stairs, threw them all,
the shortest way, out of the window. At length the priest got
tired of dipping first into one, and then into another volume;
so ordered all that were left, whatever they might be, to be
burned. But while they were thus busy, they suddenly heard
Don Quixote calling out to valorous knights to exert their
prowess; and, running to him, found him out of bed, raving and


bawling, and laying furiously about him with his drawn sword,
as broad awake as if he had never been asleep. They closed in
with him, and laid him upon his bed by main force; when, after
he was a little composed, turning himself to the priest, he said,
"Certainly, my lord archbishop, it is a great disgrace to us, who
call ourselves the twelve peers, to let the knights-courtiers carry
off the victory without more opposition, after we, the adventurers,
had gained the prize in the three preceding days."-" Say no
more," said the priest; "what is lost to-day may be won to-
morrow; mind your health for the present, for I think you must
needs be extremely fatigued, if not sorely wounded."-" Wounded!
no," said Don Quixote; "but bruised and battered I am for
certain; for that beast, Don Roldan, has pounded me to mash
with the trunk of an oak, and all out of mere envy, because he
sees that I am the sole rival of his prowess. But let me never
more be called Rinaldo of Montauban, if, as soon as I am able
to rise from this bed, I do not make him pay dear for it, in spite
of all his enchantments; but at present bring me some breakfast,
for I know nothing will do me so much good, and let me alone
to revenge myself." They did so, gave him some victuals, and
then he fell fast asleep again, leaving them in fresh wonder at
his madness.
That night the housekeeper burned all the books that were in
the yard, and in the house too. One of the remedies which the
priest and barber prescribed for their friend's malady was, to
wall up the room where the books had been, that when he got
up he might not find them; in hopes that, the cause being
removed, the effect might cease; and that they should pretend
that an enchanter had carried them away, room and all; which
was presently done accordingly. Within two days after, Don
Quixote got up, and the first thing he did was to visit his books.
Not finding the room where he left it, he went up and down
looking for it. He came to the place where the door used to
be, and he felt with his hands, and stared.about every way
without speaking a word; but after some time asked the house-
keeper whereabouts the room stood where his books were ? She,
who was already well tutored what to answer, said to him, What
room, or what nothing, does your worship look for? There is
neither room nor books in this house, for a witch has carried all


away."-" It was not a witch," said the niece, "but an enchanter,
who came one night upon a cloud, and, alighting from a serpent
on which he rode, entered into the room. I know not what he
did there, but after some little time, out he came flying through
the roof, leaving the house full of smoke; and when we went
to see what he had been doing, we saw neither books nor room;
only we very well remember, both I and mistress housekeeper
here, that when the old thief went away, he said with a loud voice,
that for a secret enmity he bore to the owner of those books and
of the room, he had done a mischief in this house which should
soon be manifest; he told us also that he was called the sage
Munniaton."-"Freston, he meant to say," replied Don Quixote.
-"I know not," answered the housekeeper, "whether his name
be Freston or Friton; all I know is, that it ended in 'ton.' "-
" It doth so," said Don Quixote; "he is a wise enchanter, a great
enemy of mine, and bears me a grudge, because by his skill and
learning he knows that, in process of time, I shall engage in
single combat with a knight whom he favours, and shall vanquish
him without his being able to prevent it: and for this cause he
endeavours to do me all the diskindness he can."
In the meantime Don Quixote tampered with a labourer, a
neighbour of his, and an honest man, but very shallow-brained.
In short, he said so much, and promised him such great matters,
that the poor fellow resolved to sally out with him, and serve him
as his squire. Among other things, Don Quixote told him he
ought to go with him willingly; for some time or other such an
adventure might present, that an island might be won in the turn
of a hand, and he be left governor thereof. With these and the
like promises, Sancho Panza (for that was the labourer's name)
left his wife and children, and hired himself for a squire to his
neighbour. Don Quixote presently cast about how to raise
money, and, by selling one thing, pawning another, and losing
by all, he scraped together a tolerable sum. He fitted himself
likewise with a buckler, which he borrowed of a friend, and,
patching up his broken helmet the best he could, acquainted
his squire Sancho of the day and hour he intended to set out,
that he might provide himself with what he should find to be
most needful: above all, he charged him not to forget a wallet.
Sancho said he would be sure to carry one, and that he intended


also to take with him an ass he had, being a very good one,
because he was not used to travel much. on foot. As to the ass,
Don Quixote paused a little, endeavouring to recollect whether
any knight-errant had ever carried a squire mounted ass-wise:
but no instance of the kind occurred to his memory. However,
he consented that he should take his ass with him, purposing
to accommodate him more honourably, the first opportunity, by
dismounting the first discourteous knight he should meet. He
provided himself also with shirts, and what other things he could,
according to the advice given him by the innkeeper.


4 .. .. .. _..
...... "!'k '" X
2. .. .- .,,
i.. ,_ "- i _
ii -2.> \ '- :-- -- !2 ,-_-


Sets out again with his squire Sancho Panza-Adventure with
the windmill- [i'th the monks and Biscainer-Entertained
by the goatherds.

LL being in readiness, Don Quixote and Sancho
Panza, without saying a word to any one, got
quietly out of the village; Sancho riding upon his
ass, with his wallet and leather bottle, and with a
vehement desire to find himself governor of the
island which his master had promised him. Don Quixote
happened to take the same route he had done in his first expedi-
tion, through the plain of Montiel, which he passed over with
less uneasiness than the time before; for it was early in the
morning, and the rays of the sun darting on them aslant gave
them no disturbance. Now Sancho Panza said to his master,
"I beseech your worship, good sir knight-errant, that you forget
not your promise concerning that same island; for I shall know
how to govern it, be it never so big." To which Don Quixote
answered, "You must know, friend Sancho, that it was a custom
much in use among the knights-errant of old, to make their
squires governors of the islands or kingdoms they conquered;
and I am determined to follow so excellent a custom, and that
right soon; for if you live and I live, before six days are ended,
I may probably win such a kingdom as may have others depend-
ing on it, fit for thee to be crowned king of one of them."-
"So then," answered Sancho Panza, "if I were a king, Mary
Gutierrez, my wife, would at least come to be queen, and my
children infantas."-"Who doubts it?" answered Don Quixote.
-"I doubt it," replied Sancho Panza; "for I am verily persuaded,


that if kingdoms were rained down upon the earth, none
of them would fit well upon the head of Maria Gutierrez; for
you must know, sir, she is not worth two farthings for a queen.
The title of countess would sit better upon her."-" Let us leave
that, Sancho," answered Don Quixote; "but do thou have a
care not to debase thy mind so low, as to content thyself with
being less than a lord-lieutenant."-" Sir, I will not," answered
Sancho; "especially having so great a man for my master as

your worship, who will know how to give me whatever is most
fitting for me."
As they were thus talking, they perceived some thirty or forty
windmills that were in that plain; and Don Quixote seeing them,
said to his squire, "Look yonder, friend Sancho Panza, where
you may discover somewhat more than thirty monstrous giants,
with whom I intend to fight, and take away all their lives; with
those spoils we will begin to enrich ourselves."-" What giants?"
said Sancho Panza.-" Those you see yonder," answered his


master, "with those long arms; for some of them are wont to
have them almost two miles long."-" Sir," answered Sancho,
"those are not giants, but windmills; and what seem to be arms
are the sails which, whirled about by the wind, make the mill-
stone go."-"One may easily see," answered Don Quixote, "that
you do not understand adventures. I say they are giants; and,
if you are afraid, get out of the way, whilst I engage with them in
a fierce and unequal combat." And so saying, he clapped spurs
to Rozinante, without minding the cries his squire sent after him,
assuring him that those he went to assault were, without all
doubt, windmills, and not giants. But he was so fully persuaded
that they were giants, that he neither heard the outcries of his
squire Sancho, nor yet discerned what they were, though he was
very near them; but went on, crying out aloud, "Fly not, ye
cowards and vile caitiffs, for it is a single knight who assaults
you." Now the wind rose a little, and the great sails began to
move; which Don Quixote perceiving, said, "Well, though you
should move more arms than the giant Briareus, you shall pay
for it."
So saying, and recommending himself devoutly to his lady
Dulcinea, beseeching her to succour him in the present danger,
being well covered with his buckler, and setting his lance in the
rest, he rushed on as fast as Rozinante could gallop, and attacked
the first mill before him. Running his lance into the sail, the
wind whirled it about with so much violence, that it broke the
lance to shivers, dragging horse and rider after it, and tumbling
them over and over on the plain, in very evil plight. Sancho
Panza hastened to his assistance as fast as his ass could carry
him; but when he came up to him, found him not able to stir,
so violent was the blow he and Rozinante had received in falling.
"Goodness guide us!" said Sancho, "did I not warn you to
have care of what you did, for that they were nothing but wind-
mills? and nobody could mistake them but one that had the
like in his head."-"Peace, friend Sancho," answered Don
Quixote; "for matters of war are, of all others, most subject
to continual mutations. Now, I verily believe, and it is most
certainly so, that the sage Freston, who stole away my chamber
and books, has metamorphosed these giants into windmills, on
purpose to deprive me of the glory of vanquishing them, so great


is the enmity he bears me; but when he has done his worst,
his wicked arts will avail but little against the goodness of my
sword." With that Sancho helped him to rise; and mounting
him again upon Rozinante, they followed the road that led to
a certain pass in the mountains, for there, Don Quixote said,
they could not fail to meet with many and various adventures,
it being a great thoroughfare. Yet he went on very melancholy
for want of his lance; and, speaking of it to his squire, said, "I

remember to have read that a certain Spanish knight, called
Diego Perez de Vargas, having broken his sword in fight, tore
off a huge branch or limb from an oak, and performed such
wonders with it that day, and dashed out the brains of so many
Moors, that he was surnamed Machuca, that is, the Bruiser;
and, from .that day forward, he and his descendants bore the
names of Vargas and Machuca. I tell you this, because from
the first oak or crab-tree we meet I mean to tear such another

limb; and I purpose and resolve to do such feats with it, that
you shall deem yourself most fortunate in meriting to behold
them, and to be an eye-witness of things which can scarcely be
believed." Quoth Sancho, "I believe all just as you say, sir;
but, pray, set yourself upright in your saddle; for you seem to
me to ride sideling, occasioned, doubtless, by your being so
sorely bruised by the fall."-" It is certainly so," answered Don
Quixote; "and, if I do not complain of pain, it is because
knights-errant are not allowed to complain of any wound what-
ever, though their entrails come out at it."-" If it be so, I have
nothing to reply," answered Sancho; "but, in truth, I should
be glad to hear your worship complain when anything ails you.
As for myself, I must complain of the least pain I feel, unless
this business of not complaining be understood to extend to the
squires of knights-errant." Don Quixote could not forbear
smiling at the simplicity of his squire, and told him he might
complain whenever, and as much as he pleased, with or without
cause, having never yet read anything to the contrary in the
laws of chivalry.
Here Sancho put him in 'mind that it was time to dine. His
master answered, that at present he had no need; but that he
might eat whenever he thought fit. With this licence, Sancho
settled himself the best he could upon his beast, and, taking out
what he carried in his wallet, jogged on eating, behind his
master, very leisurely, now and then lifting the bottle to his
mouth with intense relish. Whilst he went on in this manner,
repeating his draughts, he thought no more of the promises his
master had made him; nor did he think it any toil, but rather
a recreation, to go in quest of adventures, though never so
perilous. In fine, they passed that night among some trees,
from one of which Don Quixote tore a withered branch, that
might serve him in some sort for a lance, and fixed it to the iron
head or spear of that which was broken. All that night he slept
not a wink, thinking of his lady Dulcinea, as he had read in his
books, where the knights are wont to pass many nights together,
without closing their eyes, in forests and deserts, entertaining
themselves with the remembrance of their mistresses. Not so
did Sancho pass the night; he made but one sleep of it, and,
if his master had not roused him, neither the beams of the sun,


that darted full in his face, nor the melody of the birds, could
have awaked him. At his uprising he took a hearty drink at his
bottle, and found it much lighter than the evening before, which
grieved his very heart, for he did not think they were in the way
to remedy that defect very soon. Don Quixote would not break
his fast; for, as it is said, he resolved to subsist upon pleasant
They returned to the road they had entered upon the day
before, towards the pass in the mountains, which they discovered
about three in the afternoon. "Here," said Don Quixote,
"brother Sancho Panza, we may thrust our hands up to the
elbows in what they call adventures. But take this caution
with you, that, though you should see me in the greatest peril
in the world, you must not lay your hand to your sword to
defend me unless you see that they who assault me are vile mob
and mean scoundrels; in that case you may assist me. But if
they should be knights, it is in no wise lawful, nor allowed by
the laws of chivalry, that you should intermeddle until you
are dubbed a knight."-"I assure you, sir," answered Sancho,
"your worship shall be obeyed most punctually herein, and the
rather, because I am naturally very peaceable, and an enemy
to thrusting myself into brangles and squabbles; but for all that,
as to what regards the defence of my own person, I shall make
no great account of those same laws, since every one is allowed
to defend himself against whoever would annoy him."-" I say
no less," answered Don Quixote ; "but in the business of assisting
me against knights, you must restrain and keep in your natural
impetuosity."-" I say, I will do so," answered Sancho; "and I
will observe this precept most religiously."
As they were thus discoursing, there appeared in the road two
monks of the order of St. Benedict, mounted upon two huge
mules. They wore travelling masks, and carried umbrellas.
Behind them came a coach, with a lady in it; and four or five
men on horseback, with two muleteers on foot. The monks
were not travelling with the lady, though they were on the same
road. But scarcely had Don Quixote espied them, when he
said to his squire, "Either I am deceived, or this is like to prove
the most famous adventure that ever was seen; for those black
bulks that appear yonder must be enchanters who are carrying

away some princess, whom they have stolen, in that coach; and
I am obliged to redress this wrong to the utmost of my power."
-"This may prove a worse job than the windmills," said
Sancho. Pray, sir, take notice, that those are Benedictine
monks, and the coach must belong to some travellers. Pray,
hearken to my advice, and have a care what you do."-" I have
already.told you, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "that you
know little of adventures; what I say is true, and you will see it
presently." So saying, he advanced, and planting himself in the
midst of the highway by which the monks were to pass, cried
out, with a loud voice, "Diabolical and monstrous race! either

S1',- -- .

-- ,.-

instantly release the high-born princess, whom you are carrying
away in that coach against her will, or prepare for instant death,
as the just chastisement of your wicked deeds." The monks
stopped their mules and stood wondering, as well at the figure of
Don Quixote as at his expressions; to which they answered,
"Signor Cavalier, we are neither diabolical nor monstrous, but a
couple of monks, who are travelling on our own business, and
are entirely ignorant whether any princess is carried away by
force in that coach or not."-"Soft words do nothing with me,
for I know you, treacherous scoundrels," said Don Quixote.
And without staying for any other reply, he clapped spurs to


Rozinante, and, with the lance couched, ran at the foremost
monk with such fury, that, if the man had not slid down from
his mule, he would have been tumbled to the ground, in spite of
his teeth, and wounded to boot, if not killed outright.
The second monk, seeing his comrade treated in this manner,
clapped spurs to his mule's sides, and began to scour along the
plain lighter than the wind itself. Sancho Panza, seeing the
monk on the ground, leaped nimbly from his ass, and, running
to him, began to take off his dress. In the meanwhile, the
monks' two servants coming up, asked him why he was stripping
their master of his clothes? Sancho answered, that they were
his lawful perquisites, as being the spoils of the battle which his
lord Don Quixote had just won. The servants, who did not
understand what was meant by spoils or battles, seeing Don
Quixote at a distance, talking with those in the coach, fell upon
Sancho, threw him down, gave him a hearty kicking, and left
him stretched on the ground, breathless and senseless ;-whilst
the monk got upon his mule again, and pale as death, spurred
away after his companion. Don Quixote, as was said, stood
talking to the lady in the coach, saying, "Your beauty, dear
lady, may dispose of your person as pleaseth you best; for your
haughty oppressors lie prostrate on the ground, overthrown by
my invincible arm; and that you may not be at any pains to
learn the name of your deliverer, know that I am called Don
Quixote de la Mancha, knight-errant and adventurer, captive
to the peerless and beauteous Dulcinea del Toboso; and, in
requital of the benefit you have received at my hands, all I
desire is, that you would return to Toboso, and, in my name,
present yourself before that lady, telling her what I have done
to obtain your liberty."
All that Don Quixote said was overheard by a certain squire,
who accompanied the coach, a Biscainer, who finding he would
not let the coach go forward, but insisted upon its immediately
returning to Toboso, flew at Don Quixote, and, taking hold of
his lance, addressed him, in bad Castilian, and worse Biscaine,
after this manner: "Be gone, cavalier, and be hanged to you! I
swear, if thou dost not quit the coach, thou forfeitest thy life, as
I am a Biscainer." Don Quixote understood him very well, and,
with great calmness, answered, "Wert thou a gentleman, as thou

art not, I would before now have chastised thy folly and pre-
sumption, thou pitiful slave." To which the Biscainer replied,
"I no gentleman! Thou liest. If thou wilt throw away thy
lance, and draw thy sword, thou shalt see I will make no more
of thee than a cat does of a mouse. Thou liest: hast thou any-
thing else to say?"--"Thou shalt see that presently," answered
Don Quixote; who, throwing down his lance, drew his sword,
and grasping his buckler, set upon the Biscainer, with a resolu-
tion to kill him. The Biscainer, seeing him come on in that
manner, though he would fain have alighted from his mule, had
yet only time to draw his sword; but it happened well for him
that he was close to the coach side, out of which he snatched a

.- -

cushion, which served him for a shield; and immediately to it
they went, as if they had been mortal enemies. The rest of the
company would have made peace between them, but they could
not: for the Biscainer swore in his gibberish, that, if they would not
let him finish the combat, he would kill his mistress, and every-
body that offered to hinder him. The lady of the coach, amazed
and affrighted at what she saw, bid the coachman put a little
out of the way, and so sat at a distance, beholding the vigorous
conflict; in the progress of which, the Biscainer gave Don
Quixote so huge a stroke on one of his shoulders, and above his
buckler, that, had it not been for his coat of mail, it had cleft
him down to the girdle. Don Quixote, feeling the weight of the
blow, cried out aloud, saying, "O lady of my soul! Dulcinea!


flower of all beauty, succour this thy knight, who, to satisfy thy
great goodness, exposes himself to this rigorous extremity!"
The saying this, the drawing his sword, the covering himself well
with his buckler, and falling furiously on the Biscainer, was all
done in one moment, he resolving to venture all on the fortune
of one single blow. The Biscainer, who saw him coming thus
upon him, covered himself well with his cushion, but was not
able to turn his mule about to the right or the left, she being



already so jaded, and so little used to such sport, that she would
not stir a step. His sword came down first, and dealt the knight
so furious a stroke as would have ended him on the spot, had
not the blade turned aside, so that it only sliced off the greater
part of his helmet, and half his left ear.
Who can worthily recount the rage that entered into the breast
of our knight, at seeing himself so roughly handled? Let it
suffice that it was such, that he raised himself afresh in his stir-

rups, and gripping his sword tighter in both hands, discharged
it with such fury upon the Biscainer, taking him full upon the
cushion, and upon the head (which he could not defend), that
he must have been knocked out of the saddle, had he not laid
fast hold of his mule's neck. Notwithstanding that, he lost his
stirrups, and let go his hold, whilst the mule, frightened by the
terrible stroke, began to run about the field, and at two or three
plunges laid her master flat upon the ground. Don Quixote
stood looking on with great calmness, and when he saw him fall,
leaped from his horse, with much agility ran up to him, and
clapping the point of his sword to his eyes, bid him yield, or he
would cut off his head. The Biscainer was so stunned that he
could not answer a word: and it had gone hard with him (so
blinded with rage was Don Quixote) if the lady in the coach, who
hitherto in great dismay beheld the conflict, had not earnestly
besought him that he would do her the great kindness and favour
to spare the life of her squire. Don Quixote answered with
much solemnity and gravity, "Assuredly, fair lady, I am very
willing to grant your request, but it is upon a certain condition
and compact; which is, that this knight shall promise me to
repair to the town of Toboso, and present himself, as from me,
before the peerless Dulcinea, that she may dispose of him as she
shall think fit." The terrified and disconsolate lady, without
considering what Don Quixote required, and without inquiring
who Dulcinea was, promised him her squire should perform
whatever he enjoined him. "In reliance upon this promise,"
said Don Quixote, "I will do him no further hurt, though he has
well deserved it at my hands."
By this time Sancho Panza had got upon his legs, somewhat
roughly handled by the monks' servants, and stood beholding
very attentively the combat of his master Don Quixote, hoping
that he would get the victory, that he might thereby win some
island, of which to make him governor, as he had promised
him. Now, seeing the conflict at an end, and that his master
was ready to mount again upon Rozinante, he came and held
his stirrup; but before the knight got up, he fell upon his knees
before him, and taking hold of his hand, kissed it, saying to
him, Be pleased, my lord Don Quixote, to bestow upon me the
government of that island, which you have won in this rigorous

'. --- .- --_-

-Page 40.


combat; for, be it never so big, I find in myself ability sufficient
to govern it, as well as the best he that ever governed island
in the world." To which Don Quixote answered, "Consider,
brother Sancho, that this adventure, and others of this nature,
are not adventures of islands, but of cross-ways, in which nothing
is to be gotten but a broken head, or the loss of an ear. Have
patience; for adventures will offer, whereby I may not only
make thee a governor, but something better." Sancho returned
him abundance of thanks, kissed his hand again, and the skirt
of his coat of mail; then helped him to get upon Rozinante,
and himself mounting his ass, followed his master; who, going
off at a round rate, without taking his leave, or speaking to those
of the coach, entered into a wood that was hard by.
Sancho followed him as fast as his beast could trot; but Rozi-
nante made such way, that seeing himself like to be left behind,
he was forced to call aloud to his master to stay for him. Don
Quixote did so, checking Rozinante by the bridle, until his
weary squire overtook him; who, as soon as he came near, said
to him, Methinks, sir, it would not be amiss to look after your
safety, for considering in what condition you have left your
adversary, it is not improbable the officers of justice may be after
us, and if we get into their clutches, we may chance to smart
for it."-" Peace," said Don Quixote; "'for where have you ever
seen or read of a knight-errant being brought before a court of
justice, let him have committed ever so many homicides ?"-"I
know nothing of your Omecils," answered Sancho; "only this I
know, that the officers have something to say to those who fight
in the fields; and as to this other matter, I intermeddle not in
it."-" Set your heart at rest, friend," answered Don Quixote;
"for I should deliver you out of the hands of the Chaldeans;
how much more out of those of the officers of justice. But tell
me now, have you ever seen a more valorous knight than I, upon
the whole face of the known earth ?"-" In truth," answered
Sancho, "what I dare affirm is, that I never served a bolder
master than your worship in all the days of my life; and I only
hope we be not called to an account for these darings. What
I beg of your worship is, that you would let your wounds be
dressed. I have here some lint, and a little ointment, in my
wallet."-" All this would have been needless," answered Don

Quixote, "if I had bethought myself of making a vial of the
balsam of Fierabras; for, with one single drop of that, we might
have saved both time and medicines."-" What vial, and what
balsam is that ?" said Sancho Panza. "It is a balsam," answered
Don Quixote, "of which I have the receipt by heart; and he
that has it need not so much as think of dying by any wound.
Therefore, when I shall have made it, and given it you, all you
will have to do is, when you see me in some battle cleft asunder
(as it frequently happens), to take up fair and softly that part
of my body which shall fall to the ground, and, with the greatest
nicety, before the blood is congealed, place it upon the other
half that shall remain in the saddle, taking especial care to
make them tally exactly. Then must you immediately give me
to drink only two draughts of the balsam aforesaid, and then
will you see me become sounder than any apple."-" If this
be so," said Sancho, I renounce from henceforward the govern-
ment of the promised island, and desire no other thing in pay-
ment of my many and good services, but only that your worship
will give me the receipt of this extraordinary liquor; for I dare say
it will anywhere fetch more than a shilling an ounce, and I want
no more to pass this life creditably and comfortably. But I
should be glad to know whether it will cost much the making ?"
-"For less than eighteen pence one may make nine pints,"
answered Don Quixote. "Why then," replied Sancho, "does
your worship delay to make it, and to teach it me ? "-" Peace,
friend," answered Don Quixote; "for the present, let us set about
the cure; for my ear pains me more than I could wish."
Sancho took some lint and ointment out of his wallet; but
when Don Quixote perceived that his helmet was broken, he
was ready to run stark mad; and, laying his hand on his sword,
vowed he would never rest until he had revenged himself, and
taken by force a helmet like it, or one as good, from some other
knight. Sancho reminded his master that men with helmets
were not to be met on those roads, where were only carriers and
carters, who, so far from wearing such things, had perhaps never
heard of them all the days of their lives. "You are mistaken
in this," said Don Quixote; for we shall not be two hours in
these cross-ways before we shall see more armed men than came
to the siege of Troy, to carry off the fair Helen."-" Well, be it


so," said Sancho; and good luck to us, that we may speedily
win this island, which costs me so dear."-" I have already told
you, Sancho, to be in no pain upon that account; for, if an
island cannot be had, there is the kingdom of Denmark, or
that of Prester John, which will fit you like a ring to your
finger. But let us leave this to its own time, and see if you
have anything for us to eat in your wallet; and we will go
presently in quest of some castle, where we may lodge this night,
and make the balsam that I told you of; for my ear pains me
very much."-" I have here an onion, and a piece of cheese,
and I know not how many crusts of bread," said Sancho; "but
they are not eatables fit for so valiant a knight as your worship."
-" How dull you are!" answered Don Quixote: "you must
know, Sancho, that it is an honour to knights-errant not to eat
in a month; and if they do eat, it must be of what comes next
to hand : and, if you had read as many histories as I have done,
you would have known this; for though I have perused a great
many, I never yet found any account given in them that ever
knights-errant did eat, unless it were by chance, and at certain
sumptuous banquets made on purpose for them-the rest of their
days they lived, as it were, upon their smelling. And though
it is to be presumed they could not subsist without eating, it
must likewise be supposed that, as they pass most part of their
lives in wandering through forests and deserts, and without a
cook, their most usual diet must consist of rustic viands, such
as those you now offer me. So that, friend Sancho, let not that
trouble you, which gives me pleasure; nor endeavour to make
a new world, or to throw knight-errantry off its hinges."-
"Pardon me, sir," said Sancho; "for, as I can neither read
nor write, as I told you before, I am entirely unacquainted with
the rules of the knightly profession; and from henceforward I
will furnish my wallet with all sorts of dried fruits for your
worship, who are a knight; and for myself, who am none, I
will supply it with poultry, and other things of more substance."
-" I do not say, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that knights-
errant are obliged to eat nothing but dried fruit, as you say;
but that their most usual sustenance was of that kind, and of
certain herbs they found up and down in the fields, which they
very well knew; and so do I."-" It is a happiness to know


these same herbs," answered Sancho; "for I am inclined to
think we shall one day have occasion to make use of that
So saying, he took out what he had provided, and they ate
together in a very peaceable and friendly manner, but, being
desirous to seek out some place to lodge in that night, soon
finished their poor and dry commons. They presently mounted,
and made what haste they could to get to some inhabited place

- C- -s .-.:- .

before night; but both the sun and their hopes failing them near
the huts of certain goatherds, they determined to take up their
lodging there. But if Sancho was grieved that they could not
reach some habitation, his master was as much rejoiced to lie
in the open air; making account that, every time this befell him,
he was doing such an act as gave a fresh evidence of his title
to chivalry.
He was kindly received by the goatherds; and Sancho,


_ ~---- h\


having accommodated Rozinante and his ass the best he could,
followed the scent of certain pieces of goat's flesh that were
boiling in a kettle on the fire. This the goatherds took off, and,
spreading some sheep-skins on the ground, very speedily served
up their rural mess, inviting them both, with show of much good-

will, to take share of what they had. Six of them, that belonged
to the fold, sat down round about the skins, having first, with
rustic civility, desired Don Quixote that he would seat himself
upon a trough with the bottom upwards, placed on purpose for
him. Don Quixote sat down, and Sancho remained standing to
serve the cup, which was made of horn. His master, seeing him

standing, said to him, "That you may see, Sancho, the intrinsic
worth of knight-errantry, and how fair a prospect its meanest
retainers have of speedily gaining the respect and esteem of the
world, I will that you sit here by my side, and in company with
these good folks, and that you be one and the same thing with
me, who am your master and natural lord; that you eat from off
my plate, and drink of the same cup in which I drink; for the
same may be said of knight-errantry, which is said of love, that it
makes all things equal."-" I give you a great many thanks, sir,"

said Sancho; "but let me tell your worship, that, provided I have
victuals enough, I can eat as well, or better, standing, and alone
by myself, than if I were seated close by an emperor. And
further, to tell you the truth, what I eat in my corner, without
compliments or ceremonies, though it were nothing but bread
and an onion, relishes better than turkeys at other folks' tables,
where I am forced to chew leisurely, drink little, wipe my mouth
often, and neither sneeze nor cough when I have a mind. So
that, good sir, as to these honours your worship is pleased to


confer upon me, be pleased to convert them into something of
more use and profit to me."-"All this notwithstanding," said
Don Quixote, "you shall sit down ;" and, pulling him by the arm,
he forced him to sit down next him. The goatherds, who did
not understand this jargon of squires and knights-errant, did
nothing but eat, and listen, and stare at their guests, who, with
much cheerfulness and appetite, swallowed down pieces as big as
one's fist. The meat being finished, they spread upon the skins
a great quantity of acorns, together with half a cheese, harder
than if it had been made of plaster of Paris. The horn stood not
idle all this while; for it went round so often, now full, now empty,
like the bucket of a well, that they presently emptied one of the
two wine-skins that hung in view.
Don Quixote spent more time in talking than in eating.
Sancho was silent, stuffing himself with the acorns, and often
visiting the second wine-bag, which, that the wine might be cool,
was kept hung upon a cork tree. Supper being over, Sancho
pressed his master to lay himself down in the goatherds' hut
He did so, and chivalrously passed the night in thinking of his
lady Dulcinea. Sancho took up his lodging between Rozinante
and his ass, and slept it out, not like a rejected lover, but like
one who has been soundly thrashed.


Beaten with pack-staves-Takes the inn for a castle--Mishap at
the inn-Balsam of Fierabras-Sancko tossed in a blanket.

EXT morning they were up betimes, and, continuing
their journey, came, about noonday, to a fine grassy
meadow, near which a little brook of sparkling water
ran so temptingly, that the knight determined to
rest there during the heat of the day. So the two
dismounted, turned Rozinante and the ass loose, and then sat
down to see what Sancho's wallet could furnish for their dinner.
Now it so happened that a drove of young horses belonging to
some carriers were grazing in this same meadow, and Rozinante,
who was somewhat peevish with the flies that had been feasting
upon him, getting among them, treated them both to his teeth
and his heels, in a way that their owners could not stand. So,
running up, they laid on him with their pack-staves at such a rate
as soon laid him flat, with girths broken and saddle anywhere.
Don Quixote and his squire, seeing this, came up out of breath,
and the former said to Sancho, "By what I see, friend Sancho,
these are no knights, but rascally people of a scoundrel race. I
tell you this, because you may very well help me to take ample
revenge for the outrage they have done to Rozinante before our
eyes."-" Why, what revenge can we take," answered Sancho,
"they being above twenty, and we no more than two-perhaps
but one and a half? "-" I am as good as a hundred," replied Don
Quixote. And, without saying more, he laid his hand on his
sword, and flew at the carriers, and Sancho did the same, moved
thereto by the example of his master. At the first blow Don
Quixote gave one of them a terrible wound on the shoulder.


through a leather doublet which he wore. The carriers, seeing
themselves assaulted in this manner by two men only, betook
themselves to their clubs, and, hemming them in, began to be-
labour them with all their might, knocking Sancho down first, and
then his master, who fell just at Rozinante's feet. After this, the
men, seeing the mischief they had done, loaded their beasts with

.. .' --- .. 'N ,

--: -r

all speed, and pursued their journey, leaving the two adventurers
in evil plight.
The first who came to himself was Sancho Panza, who, finding
himself close to his master, with a feeble and plaintive voice, cried,
"Signor Don Quixote ah, Signor Quixote "-" What would you
have, brother Sancho ?" answered Don Quixote, in the same feeble
and lamentable tone. "I could wish, if it were possible," answered
Sancho Panza, "your worship would give me two draughts of
that drink of Feo Blass, if you have it here at hand; perhaps it
may do as well for broken bones as it does for wounds."-" Un-
happy I, that we have it not !" answered Don Quixote. But I

swear to you, Sancho Panza, on the faith of a knight-errant, that,
before two days pass (if fortune does not order it otherwise), I
will have it in my power."-" But in how many days, do you think,
sir, we shall recover the use of our feet?" replied Sancho Panza.
"For my part," said the battered knight, "I cannot limit the
number; but it is all my own fault, for I ought not to have laid
hand on my sword against men who were not dubbed knights like
myself. And, therefore, I believe this chastisement has fallen
upon me as a punishment for having transgressed the laws of
chivalry. Wherefore, brother Sancho, when you see we are insulted
by such rascally rabble, do not stay till I lay hand on my sword
against them, for I will in no wise do it; but do you draw your
sword, and chastise them to your heart's content: but, if any
knights shall come up to their assistance, I shall then know how
to defend you and punish them."
Sancho Panza did not much like this; so replied, "Sir, I am
a peaceable, tame, quiet man, and can dissemble any injury
whatsoever; for I have a wife and children to maintain and
bring up : so that give me leave, sir, to tell you, just by way of
hint, that I will upon no account draw my sword, either against
peasant or against knight, and that, from this time forward, I
forgive all injuries any one has done, or shall do me, or that any
person is now doing, or may hereafter do me, whether he be high
or low, rich or poor, gentle or simple, without excepting any state
or condition whatever." Which his master hearing, answered, "I
wish I had breath to talk a little at my ease, and that the pain I
feel in this rib would cease ever so short a while, that I might
convince you, Panza, of the error you are in. But one thing I
would have you understand is, that wounds which are given with
instruments that are accidentally in one's hand are no affront.
And thus it is expressly written in the law of combat, that if a
shoemaker strikes a person with the last he has in his hand, though
it be really of wood, it will not therefore be said that the person
thus beaten with it was cudgelled. I say this, that you may not
think, though we are mauled in this scuffle, we are disgraced; for
the arms those men carried, wherewith they pounded us, were no
other than their pack-staves, and none of them, as I remember,
had either tuck, sword, or dagger."-" They gave me no leisure,'
answered Sancho, to observe so narrowly; for scarcely had I


laid hand on my toasting-fork when they crossed my shoulders
with their saplins, in such a manner that they deprived my eyes
of sight and my feet of strength, laying me where I now lie, and
where I am not so much concerned to think whether the business
of the threshing be an affront or no, as I am troubled at the pain
of the blows, which will leave as deep an impression in my memory
as on my shoulders."-" All this notwithstanding, I tell you,
brother Panza," replied Don Quixote, "there is no remembrance
which time does not obliterate, nor pain which death does not


-- ,.----- -- _.- --

put an end to."-" What greater misfortune can there be," replied
Panza, "than that which remains till time effaces it and till death
puts an end to it? If this mischance of ours were of that sort
which people cure with a couple of plasters, it would not be alto-
gether so bad; but, for aught I see, all the plasters of an hospital
will not be sufficient to set us to rights again."
Have done with this, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "and
let us see how Rozinante does; for, by what I perceive, not the
least part of this misfortune has fallen to the poor beast's share."
-" That is not at all strange," answered Sancho, "since he also
belongs to a knight-errant. But what I wonder at is, that my

ass should come off scot-free, when we have paid so dear."-
"Fortune always leaves some door open in disasters, whereby
to come at a remedy," said Don Quixote. "I say this, because
this poor beast may now supply the want of Rozinante, by
carrying me hence to some castle, where I may be cured of my
wounds. Nor do I take the being mounted in this fashion to
be dishonourable; for I remember to have read that the good
old Silenus, governor and tutor of the merry god of laughter,
when he made his entry into the city of the hundred gates, went
riding, much to his satisfaction, on a most beautiful ass."-" It
is like he rode as your worship says," answered Sancho; "but
there is a main difference between riding and lying athwart like
a sack of rubbish." To which Don Quixote answered, "The
wounds received in battle rather give honour than take it away;
so that, friend Panza, answer me no more, but, as I have already
said to you, raise me up as well as you can, and place me in
whatever manner you please upon your ass, that we may get
hence before night comes on."-" Yet I have heard your worship
say," said Panza, "that it is usual for knights-errant to sleep on
heaths and deserts most part of the year, and that they look
upon it to be very fortunate."-" That is," said Don Quixote,
"when they cannot help it, or are in love. But let us have done
with this, Sancho, and set off, before such another misfortune
happens to the ass as hath befallen Rozinante."
"That would be the mischief indeed," said Sancho. And
sending forth thirty alas's, and sixty sighs, and a hundred and
twenty blessings, wrong side out, on whosoever had brought
him thither, he picked himself up, but stayed bent by the way
like a bow, utterly unable to stand upright; and so made a shift
to saddle his ass. He then heaved up Rozinante, settled Don
Quixote upon the ass, and tying Rozinante by the head to its
tail, led them both by the halter toward the place where he
thought the road might lie. And he had scarce gone a short
league, when fortune discovered to him the road, in which he
espied an inn; which, to his sorrow, and Don Quixote's joy,
must needs be a castle. Sancho positively maintained it was an
inn, and his master that it was a castle; and the dispute lasted so
long, that they had time to arrive there before it ended; and without
more ado, Sancho entered into it with his string of cattle.


The innkeeper, seeing Don Quixote laid across the ass, inquired
of Sancho what ailed him? Sancho answered him that it was
nothing but a fall from a rock, whereby his ribs were somewhat

bruised. The innkeeper had a wife who was naturally charitable,
and touched with the misfortune of her neighbours; so that she
presently set herself to cure Don Quixote, and made her daughter

assist her in the healing of her guest. There was also a servant
in the inn, an ugly little humpbacked girl, called Maritornes,
and among them they managed to put the knight into a wretched
bed in a garret, where they plastered him from head to foot.
The hostess, perceiving Don Quixote to be so full of bruises,
said, "That they seemed to be rather marks of blows than of
a fall."-" They were not blows," said Sancho; "but the rock
had many sharp points and knobs, and every one has left its
mark." He said also, "Pray, forsooth, order it so that some tow
may be left; somebody else may have occasion for it, for my
sides also ache a little."-" So then," said the hostess, "you have
had a fall too."-" No fall," said Sancho Panza; "but the fright
I took at seeing my master fall has made my body so sore that,
methinks, I have received a thousand drubs." At this Don
Quixote sat up in his bed as well as he could, and, taking the
hostess by the hand, said to her, "Believe me, beauteous lady,
you may reckon yourself happy in having lodged my person in
this your castle, and such a person that, if I do not praise myself,
it is because, as is commonly said, self-praise depreciates; but
my squire will inform you who I am. I only say that I shall
retain the service you have done me eternally engraved in my
memory, and be grateful to you whilst my life shall remain."
The hostess, her daughter, and the good Maritornes, stood
confounded at hearing our knight-errant talk in that fashion, and
not being accustomed to such kind of language, stared at him;
and so, thanking him, with inn-like praise, left him.
Don Quixote's hard, scanty, beggarly, feeble bed stood just
in the middle of that illustrious cock-loft; and close by it stood
Sancho's, which consisted only of a flag-mat and a rug that
seemed to be rather of beaten hemp than of wool. Next these
two stood a carrier's, made up of pack-saddles, and the trappings
of two of his best mules.
Now, it so chanced that when (as he thought) everybody in
the inn was fast asleep, a young fellow, who had been playing
truant at a neighboring fair, crept in at an open window; and,
feeling his way by the dim light of a lamp, that burned outside
the loft where the travellers were, to his own bed, which was in
the farthest corner of it, tumbled into the outstretched arms of
Don Quixote, who, in one of his crazy fits, took the lad for some


high-born princess come to rescue him from the treacherous lord
of the castle where he had taken up his night's lodging. The
lad, frightened that his master would be waked, and find him
out, when a good flogging would be the best thing he got,
struggled to free himself from the clutches of the knight; who
was pouring out a string of nonsense about the superlative beauty
of his supposed deliverer. In doing so, he ufluckily made noise
enough to rouse the carrier, who jumped up between sleep and
waking, and roaring out "murder," and thieves," dealt Don
Quixote a tremendous blow on the mouth; and then, to make
sure work of him, must needs skip up on the bed, and trample
all over him so smartly, that bed and everything came down
together with such a crash as brought up the landlord, a lighted
candle in his hand, to see what was amiss. The lad tried to
hide himself in Sancho's bed; but Sancho, not liking his com-
pany, kicked and cuffed him most heartily, while the landlord
was laying on him at the other side. The carrier, in a passion
at being disturbed, fell upon Sancho, and in the middle of it,
the candle going out, each one fought as hard as ever he could;
whilst nobody knew where his own blow lighted, or who it was
that pummelled him.
There lodged by chance that night in the inn an officer of
justice, who, likewise hearing the noise of the scuffle, caught up
his wand, and the tin box that held his commission, and entering
the room in the dark, cried out, "Forbear! in the name of
justice, forbear !" The first he lighted on was the battered Don
Quixote, who lay on his demolished bed, stretched upon his
back, and quite senseless; and laying hold of his beard as he
was groping about, he cried out incessantly, "I charge you to
aid and to assist me;" but finding that the person he had laid
hold of neither stirred nor moved, he concluded that he must
be dead, and that the people within the room were his murderers;
with which suspicion he raised his voice still louder, crying,
"Shut the inn-door, see that nobody gets out, for they have
killed a man here." This voice startled them all so, that they
stopped fighting in a moment. The landlord withdrew to his
chamber, the carrier to his pack-saddles, and the lad to his straw;
only the unfortunate Don Quixote and Sancho could not stir
from the place they were in. The officer now let go Don Quixote's


beard, and went out to get a light, to search after and apprehend
the delinquents.
Meanwhile Don Quixote came to himself, and called to his
squire, saying, "Sancho, friend, sleepest thou ? Sleepest thou,
friend Sancho?"-" How should I sleep? woe is me !" answered
Sancho, full of trouble and vexation. "I cannot but think a
legion of imps have been in my company to-night."-" You may
very well believe so," answered Don Quixote; "and either I
know little, or this castle is enchanted. For you must know,
Sancho, that last night one of the most beautiful damsels in
the world came to me, to deliver me out of the hands of the
treacherous lord of this castle, whom I verily believe to be a
dishonoured knight. But just as I was rising to follow her,
comes a hand, fastened to the arm of a hideous giant, which
hits me such a thump on the face, as caused my jaws to crack;
and afterwards pounded me in such sort, that I am in a worse
case than yesterday, when the carriers did us the mischief you
know. Whence I gather that this castle is guarded by some
enchanted Moor."-" I should think so," said Sancho, "for more
than four hundred Moors have cudgelled me in such a manner,
that the basting of the pack-staves was tarts and cheese-cakes to
it. But tell me, pray, sir, call you this an excellent and rare
adventure, which has left us in such a pickle? Woe is me, for
I am no knight-errant, nor ever mean to be one; and yet, of all
the misadventures, the greater part still falls to my share."-
"What! have you been pounded too?" answered Don Quixote.
"Have I not told you, yes? Evil befall my lineage!" said
Sancho. "Be in no pain, friend," answered Don Quixote; "for
I will now make the precious balsam, with which we will cure
ourselves in the twinkling of an eye." By this time the officer
had lighted his lamp and came to see the person he thought
was killed; but finding the two communing in so calm a manner,
stood in suspense. It is true, Don Quixote still lay flat on his
back, without being able to stir, through mere pounding and
plastering. The officer approached him and said, "How fares
it, honest friend? "-" I would speak more respectfully," answered
Don Quixote, "were I in your place. Is it the fashion of this
country to talk in this manner to knights-errant, blockhead ?"
The officer, seeing himself so ill-treated by one of so scurvy an

appearance, could not bear it; and, lifting up the brass lamp,
with all its oil, gave it Don Quixote over the pate in such sort,
that he broke his head; and, all being in the dark, he ran in-
stantly out of the room. "Doubtless, sir," said Sancho Panza,
this is the enchanted Moor; and he reserves the treasure for
others, and for us only blows and lamp-knocks."-" It is even
so," answered Don Quixote; "and it is to no purpose to regard
this business of enchantments, or to be out of humour or angry
with them. Get you up, Sancho, if you can; call the governor
of this fortress; and take care to get me some oil, wine, salt, and
rosemary, to make the healing balsam; for, in truth, I believe I
want it very much at this time; for the wound this phantom has
given me bleeds very fast."
Sancho got up, with pain enough of his bones, and went in
the dark towards the landlord's chamber; and, meeting the officer,
said to him, "Sir, whoever you are, do us the favour and kind-
ness to help us to a little rosemary, oil, salt, and wine ; for they
are wanted to cure one of the best knights-errant in the world,
who lies in yon bed, sorely wounded by the hands of the en-
chanted Moor that is in this inn." The officer, hearing him talk
at this rate, took him for one out of his senses; and opening
the inn-door, told the host what the honest man wanted. Having
got the materials, Sancho carried them to his master, who mixed
and boiled them together for a good while; afterwards pouring
the liquid into an oil-flask, over which he muttered sundry mys-
terious words. This done, he drank about a pint and a half of
it; but, as might have been expected, the stuff disagreed with
him immediately, and so violently, that he was obliged to be put
to bed, where he slept for three hours, waking so much better,
and in so much less pain from his bruises, that he doubted not
his precious balsam had wrought the cure. As ill luck would
have it, Sancho thought so too, and begging a dose from his
master, pitched a full pint of it down his throat at one gulp.
But the mess disagreed with the squire much worse than it had
done with the knight; and, in short, made him so ill, that he in
truth believed that his last hour was come; and his master, look-
ing on his sad condition, said, I verily believe, Sancho, that all
this mischief has befallen you because you have not been dubbed
a knight; for I am of opinion that this liquor can do no good


to those who are not."-" If your worship knew that, why, in
the world, did you suffer me to drink it ?" replied Sancho. And
with that he became worse than ever. His master, however,
feeling himself better, was in such haste to set out for further
adventures, that before Sancho was able to stir, he not only



saddled his own horse, and his squire's ass, with his own hands,
but helped his distressed servant to put on his clothes, and hoist
himself on his beast.
Both being mounted, and standing at the inn-door, Don
Quixote called to the landlord, and gravely said to him, "Many




and great are the favours, Signor Governor, which in this your
castle I have received, and I remain under infinite obligations
to acknowledge them all the days of my life. If I could make
you a return by revenging you on any insolent, who has done
you outrage, know that the duty of my profession is no other
than to strengthen the weak, to revenge the injured, and to
chastise the perfidious. Run over your memory, and if you find
anything of this nature to recommend to me, you need only
declare it; for I promise you, by the order of knighthood I have
received, to procure you satisfaction and amends to your heart's
desire." The host answered with the same gravity, Sir Knight,
I have no need of your worship's avenging any wrong for me;
I can revenge myself, fast enough, if need be. I only desire
your worship to pay me for what you have had in the inn, as
well for the straw and barley for your -two beasts as for your
supper and lodging."-" What, then! is this an inn?" replied
Don Quixote. "And a very creditable one," answered the
host. "Hitherto, then, I have been in an error," answered Don
Quixote; "for, in truth, I took it for a castle; but since it is so
that it is no castle, but an inn, all that can now be done is, that
you excuse the payment; for I cannot act contrary to the law
of knights-errant, of whom I certainly know that they never paid
for lodging, or anything else, in any inn where they have lain."-
"Pay me what is my due," said the landlord, "and let us have
none of your stories and knight-errantries; for I make no account
of anything, but how to come by my own."--" Thou art a
blockhead, and a pitiful innkeeper," answered Don Quixote. So
clapping spurs to Rozinante, and brandishing his lance, he sallied
out of the inn, without anybody's opposing him; and, without
looking to see whether his squire followed him or not, got a good
way off.
The host, seeing him go off without paying him, ran to seize
on Sancho Panza, who said that, since his master would not pay,
he would not pay either; for, being squire to a knight-errant,
the same rule held good for him as for his master, not to pay
anything in public-houses and inns. The innkeeper grew very
testy at this, and threatened him if he did not pay him, he would
get it in a way he should be sorry for. Sancho swore, by the
order of chivalry, which his master had received, that he would not


pay a single farthing, though it should cost him his life; for the
laudable and ancient usage of knights-errant should not be lost
for him, nor should the squires of future knights have reason to
complain of or reproach him for the breach of so just a right.
Poor Sancho's ill luck would have it, that among those who
were in the inn were some frolicsome fellows, who came up to
him, and, dismounting him from the ass, one of them went in
for the landlord's bed blanket; then putting him therein, they
looked up, and, seeing that the ceiling was somewhat too low
for their work, determined to go out into the yard, which was
bounded only by the sky. There Sancho being placed in the
midst of the blanket, they began to toss him aloft, and to divert
themselves with him, as with a dog at Shrovetide. The cries
which the poor blanketed squire sent forth were so many and so
loud that they reached his master's ears, who, stopping to listen
attentively, believed that some new adventure was at hand, until
he found plainly that he who cried was his servant; so, turning
the reins, he galloped up to the inn, and, finding it shut, rode
round it to discover, if he could, an entrance. But he was scarce
got to the wall of the yard, which was not very high, when he
perceived the wicked sport they were making with his squire.
He saw him ascend and descend through the air with so much
grace and agility that, if his anger would have suffered him, he
would have laughed. He tried to get from his horse upon the
pales, but was so bruised and battered that he could not so much
as alight; so, as he sat, he began to utter so many reproaches
and revilings against those who were tossing Sancho, as is im-
possible to put down in writing. But his tormentors did not
therefore desist from their laughter nor their labour, nor did
the flying Sancho forbear his complaints, mixed sometimes with
menaces, sometimes with entreaties, until at last they left off for
pure weariness. They then brought him his ass, and, wrapping
him in his loose coat, mounted him thereon. The compassionate
Maritornes, seeing him in such a plight, thought good to help
him to a jug of water, which she fetched from the well, that it
might be the cooler. Sancho took it, and, as he was lifting it to
his mouth, stopped at his master's calling to him aloud, "Son
Sancho, drink not water! child, do not drink it; it will kill thee !
See here, I hold the precious balsam, by drinking but two drops

I-- I. I

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-Page 62.


of which you will doubtless be whole and sound again." At these
words, Sancho turned up his eyes, and said, with a louder voice,
"Perhaps you have forgot, sir, that I am no knight, or you would
kill me outright. Keep your liquor, and let me alone." His
ceasing to speak and beginning to drink was all in a moment;
but at the first sip, finding it was water, he would proceed no
further, and prayed Maritornes to bring him some wine, which
she did with a very good will, and paid for it with her own
money. As soon as Sancho had done drinking, he fell a-kicking
his ass, and the inn-gate being thrown wide open, out he went,
extremely well satisfied that he had paid nothing, and had carried
his point, though at the expense of his own bones. The land-
lord, indeed, had kept his wallets for payment of what was due
to him; but Sancho never missed them, so confused was he at
going off.


Don Quixote attacks the flock of sheep-The fulling-hammers-
Sancho makes ... of his master, and suffers for it.

.-77- 7ANCHO came up to his master, pale, and dispirited
.- Zl -j \ to that degree that he was not able to spur on his
,. ass. Don Quixote, perceiving him in that condi-
tion, said, "Now am I convinced, honest Sancho,
S that that castle, or inn, is doubtless enchanted; for
they who so cruelly sported themselves with you, what could they
be but hobgoblins and people of the other world? And I am
confirmed in this by having found that, when I stood at the pales
of the yard beholding the acts of your sad tragedy, I could not
possibly get over them, nor so much as alight from Rozinante,
so that they must certainly have held me enchanted; for I swear
to you that, if I could have got over, or alighted, I would have
avenged you in such a manner as would have made those
poltroons and assassins remember the jest as long as they lived,
though I knew I had transgressed the laws of chivalry thereby:
for, as I have often told you, they do not allow a knight to lay
hand on his sword against any one who is not so, unless it be in
defence of his own life and person, and in case of urgent and
extreme necessity."-" And I too," said Sancho, "would have
revenged myself if I could, dubbed or not dubbed; but I could
not; though I am of opinion that they who diverted themselves
at my expense were no hobgoblins, but men of flesh and bones,
as we are, for, while they were tossing me, each called the other
by his proper name; so that, sir, as to your not being able to
leap over the pales, nor to alight from your horse, the fault lay
in something else, and not in enchantment. And what I gather


clearly from all this is, that these adventures we are in quest of
will at the long run bring us into so many misadventures that we
shall not know which is our right foot. So that, in my poor
opinion, the better and surer way would be to return to our
village, now that it is reaping-time, and look after our business,
and not run rambling from pillar to post, leaping out of the
frying-pan into the fire."
"How little do you know, Sancho," answered Don Quixote,
"what belongs to chivalry! The day will come when you will
see with your eyes how honourable a thing it is to follow this pro-
fession ; for, tell me, what greater satisfaction can there be in the
world than that of winning a battle and triumphing over one's
enemy ?"-" It may be so," answered Sancho, "though I do not
know it. I only know that since we have been knights-errant
we have never won any battle except that of the Biscainer, and
even there you came off with the loss of half an ear and half a
helmet; and from that day to this we have had nothing but
drubbings upon drubbings, cuffs upon cuffs, beside my blanket-
tossing into the bargain, and that by persons enchanted, on whom
I cannot revenge myself."-" That is what troubles me," answered
Don Quixote; "but henceforward I will endeavour to have
ready at hand a sword, made by such art that no kind of enchant-
ment can touch him that wears it. And perhaps fortune may
procure me that of Amadis, Knight of the Burning Sword;' for
it cut like a razor, and no armour, though ever so strong or ever
so much enchanted, could stand against it."-" I am so fortunate,"
said Sancho, that, though you should find such a sword, it
would be of service only to those who are dubbed knights, like
the balsam; as for the poor squires, they may sing sorrow."-
"Fear not that, Sancho," said Don Quixote; Heaven will deal
more kindly by thee!"
Don Quixote and his squire went on thus conferring together,
when the former saw a great and thick cloud of dust coming
towards them, and, turning to Sancho, said, "This is the day, O
Sancho, wherein will be seen the good that fortune has in store
for me, and in which I shall perform such exploits as shall remain
written in the book of fame to all succeeding ages. Seest thou
yon cloud of dust, Sancho? It is raised by a prodigious army
of divers and innumerable nations who are on the march this


way."-" Then there must be two armies," said Sancho; "for
on this opposite side there arises such another cloud of dust."
Don Quixote turned to view it, and, seeing it was so, rejoiced
exceedingly, taking it for granted they were two armies coming
to engage in the midst of that spacious plain. Now the cloud
of dust he saw was raised by two great flocks of sheep, going the
same road from different parts; and the dust hindered them
from being seen until they came near. But Don Quixote affirmed

f J .--


with so much positiveness that they were armies, that Sancho
began to believe it, and said, "Sir, what then must we do? "-
What! replied Don Quixote, but favour and assist the weaker
side. Now, you must know, Sancho, that these armies are led
by two mighty monarchs, and they are about to engage because
the one, who is a Christian, will not give his daughter to the
other, who is a pagan, unless he will renounce his false faith."
-"By my beard," said Sancho, "he is in the right; and I am


resolved to assist him to the utmost of my power."-" In so doing
you will do your duty, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for, in
order to engage in such fights, it is not necessary to be dubbed
a knight."-"I easily comprehend that," answered Sancho;
"but where shall we dispose of this ass, that we may be sure to
find him when the fray is over? for I believe it was never yet
the fashion to go to battle upon such a kind of beast."-" You
are in the right," said his master; "but let him take his chance,
whether he be lost or not; for we shall have such choice of horses
after the victory, that Rozinante himself will run a risk of being
trucked for another. But listen whilst I give you an account of
the principal knights of both the armies." Thereupon he began,
with a loud voice, to describe the advancing hosts, and that with
marvellous distinctness, seeing they existed nowhere but in his
own head. Such knights, such armour, such arms (including
one of the gates of Gaza, the temple pulled down by Samson),
did he turn as glibly off his tongue as though he were reading
a muster-roll. There was the parti-coloured knight, bearing on
his shield a cat, with a scroll inscribed MIAu-being the first
syllable of Miaulina, the name of his peerless lady-love. Then
the dark knight, in black armour, whose device was a spit, thrust
through a joint of meat proper-as the heralds say-with the
motto, "It burns, if it stands;" which was explained by him to
signify that the very life of the bearer would be consumed by
love for his lady, were he not continually engaged in deeds of
prowess. To which were added numbers of others, upon whom
he bestowed devices of the most astounding character, and the
longest possible names. And thus he went maundering on,
bespattering Sancho with such an amount of learning of all kinds
as nearly turned the brain of his faithful squire, who looked this
way and that way, but seeing nothing of either knights or giants,
took for granted his master was demented, especially when the
latter, setting his lance in its rest, clapped spurs to Rozinante,
and darted down the hillock like lightning. Sancho cried out
to him, "Hold, Signor Don Quixote, come back! They are
lambs and sheep you are going to encounter; pray came back!
What madness is this ? Look, there is neither giant, nor knight,
nor cats, nor arms, nor shields quartered nor entire. Sinner that
I am what are you about?" For all this, Don Quixote turned

not again, but still went on, crying aloud, Ho knights, follow
me all, and you shall see with how much ease I revenge the
Christian on his pagan adversary "
Saying thus, he rushed into the midst of the squadron of sheep,
and began to attack them with his lance as courageously and
intrepidly as if in good earnest he was engaging his mortal
enemies. The shepherds and herdsmen who came with the
flocks called out to him to desist; but, seeing it was to no pur-
pose, they unbuckled their slings, and began to let drive about
his ears with stones as big as one's fist. Don Quixote did not
mind the stones, but, running about on all sides, cried out,
"Where art thou, proud pagan? Present thyself before me I
am a single knight, desirous to prove thy valour hand to hand,
and to punish thee with the loss of life for the wrong thou doest."
At that instant came a large pebble-stone, and struck him such
a blow on the side that it buried a couple of his ribs in his body.
Finding himself thus ill-treated, he believed for certain he was
slain, or sorely wounded, and, remembering his liquor, pulled out
his cruse, set it to his mouth, and began to let some go down;
but before he could swallow what he thought sufficient, comes
another of those nuts, and hits him so full on the hand and on
the cruse, that it dashed it to pieces, carrying off three or four of
his teeth by the way, and grievously bruising two of his fingers.
Such was the first blow and such the second, that the poor knight
tumbled from his horse to the ground. The shepherds ran to
him, and verily believing they had killed him, in all haste got
their flock together, took up their dead-which were about seven
-and marched off without further inquiry.
All this while Sancho stood upon the hillock, tearing his
beard, and cursing the unfortunate hour and moment that ever
he knew his master. But seeing him fallen to the ground, and
the shepherds already gone off, he descended from the hillock,
ran to him, and finding him in a very ill plight, said to him,
" Did I not desire you, Signor Don Quixote, to come back, for
those you went to attack were a flock of sheep, and not an army
of men?"-" How easily," replied Don Quixote, "can that thief
of an enchanter, my enemy, make things appear or disappear!
You must know, Sancho, that it is a very easy matter for such
to make us seem what they please; and this malignant, who


persecutes me, has transformed the hostile squadrons into flocks
of sheep. However, Sancho, get upon your ass, follow them
fair and softly, and you will find that when they are a little


farther off, they will return to their first form, and ceasing to be
sheep, will become men, proper and tall, as I described them at
first. But do not go now, for I want your help and assistance."

- --


Hereupon he got up, and, laying his left hand on his mouth,
with the other laid hold on Rozinante's bridle, who had not
stirred from his master's side, and went where his squire stood,
leaning his breast on his ass, and his cheek on his hand, in the
posture of a man overwhelmed with thought. Don Quixote,
seeing him in that guise, said, "Know, Sancho, that one man is
no more than another, unless he does more than another. All
these storms that fall upon us are signs that the weather will
clear up, and things will go smoothly; for it is impossible that
either evil or good should be durable; and hence it follows that,
the evil having lasted long, the good cannot be far off. So that
you ought not to afflict yourself for the mischances that befall
me, since you have no share in them."-" How! no share in
them?" answered Sancho. "Peradventure he they tossed in a
blanket yesterday was not my father's son, and the wallets I miss
to-day, with all my movables, are somebody's else !"-" What!
are the wallets missing, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Yes,
they are," answered Sancho. "Then we have nothing to eat
to-day?" replied Don Quixote. "It would be so," answered
Sancho, "if these fields did not produce those herbs you say
you know, with which such unlucky knights-errant as your
worship are wont to supply the like necessities."-" For all that,"
answered Don Quixote, "at this time I would rather have a
slice of bread, and a couple of heads of salt pilchards, than all
the herbs described by Dioscorides, though commented upon by
Dr. Laguna himself. But, good Sancho, get upon your ass and
follow me; for God, who is the provider of all things, will not
fail us, since he does not fail the gnats of the air, the wormlings
of the earth, or the froglings of the water; and so merciful is he,
that he makes his sun to shine upon the good and the bad, and
causes rain to fall upon the just and unjust."-" Your worship,"
said Sancho, "would make a better preacher than a knight-
errant."-"Sancho," said Don Quixote, "the knights-errant ever
did and must know something of everything; and there have
been knights-errant in times past, who would make sermons as
well as if they had taken their degrees in the University of Paris;
whence we may infer that the lance never blunted the pen, nor
the pen the lance."-" Well, let it be as your worship says!"
answered Sancho; "but let us begone hence, and endeavour to

; I

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-Pae 75.





get a lodging to-night where there are neither blankets nor
blanket-heavers, nor hobgoblins, nor enchanted Moors; for if
there be, I'll none of it !"-" Child," said Don Quixote, "con-
duct me whither thou wilt; but reach hither your hand, and feel
with your finger how many grinders I want on the right side of
my upper jaw, for there I feel the pain." Sancho put in his
fingers, and, feeling about, said, "How many did your worship
use to have on this side?"--"Four," answered Don Quixote.
"Take care what you say, sir," answered Sancho. "I say four, if
not five," replied Don Quixote; "for in my whole life I never
drew tooth nor grinder, nor have I ever lost one."-" Well then,"
said Sancho, on this lower side your worship has but two
grinders and a half, and in the upper neither half nor whole."-
" Unfortunate that I am !" said Don Quixote, hearing the sad news
his squire told him; I had rather they had torn off an arm, pro-
vided it were not the sword-arm; for, Sancho, you must know
that a mouth without grinders is like a mill without a stone, and
a diamond is not so precious as.a tooth. But all this we are
subject to who profess the strict order of chivalry. Mount,
friend Sancho, and lead on; for I will follow thee what pace
thou wilt." Sancho did so, and went toward the place where he
thought to find a lodging, without going out of the high-road,
which was thereabouts very much frequented.
Thus going along, the night dark, the squire hungry, and the
master with a good appetite, they met a company of travellers,
whom our knight, taking for granted they were wrong-doers whom
he was bound to punish, immediately attacked; spurring among
them, lance in hand, wounding one, upsetting another, and
making the rest take to their heels as though they had wings, to the
great delight of Sancho, who immediately threw himself upon one
of the baggage mules, transferring all the eatables it carried into
a bag which he hastily made of his cloak. In truth, they were a
company of harmless folk, and Don Quixote, being convinced
of this, was sorry enough for having harmed them; though he
assured the sufferers it was entirely their own fault, for travelling
in such guise as that he took them for evil-doers, whom, by the
laws of knight-errantry, he was under the necessity of attacking.
Sancho improved upon his master's discourse by bidding one of
the travellers tell his comrades that he by whom they had been


routed was Don Quixote de la Mancha, otherwise called "The
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure." The title pleased Don Quixote,
as he remembered how knights of old were wont to take to them-
selves such surnames, one calling himself "The Knight of the
Burning Sword; another, "he of the Unicorn," and so on; and

he told Sancho that from that day he purposed to call himself The
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure," as also, as soon as possible, to
have a most sorrowful figure painted on his shield. "You need
not spend any time and money in getting this figure made," said
Sancho; your worship has only to show your own, and present


yourself to be looked at." Then driving on his ass before him,
he desired his master to follow; who, thinking Sancho in the
right, followed without replying. They had not gone far between
two little hills when they found themselves in a spacious and
retired valley, where they alighted. Sancho disburdened the ass;
and lying along on the green grass, with hunger for sauce, they
despatched their breakfast, dinner, afternoon's luncheon, and
supper all at once, regaling their palates with more than one cold
mess which the travellers had brought with them on the sumpter-
mule. But another mishap befell them, which Sancho took for

-" -

the worst of all; which was, that they had no wine, nor so much
as water, to drink; and being very thirsty, he, perceiving the
meadow they were in covered with green and fine grass, said to
his master, that if they went a little farther, they would, without
doubt, find some spring or brook where they might quench their
thirst. So they set off, Sancho leading his ass, on which he had
placed the relics of their supper, and Don Quixote taking Rozi-
nante by the bridle. As they felt their way [for the night was too
dark for them to see anything], a sound, as of some mighty
cascade pouring down, met their ears, and rejoiced them not a
little. But after that came a dreadful din, as of irons and chains


rattling, and heavy blows given in measured time, which would
have struck terror into the heart of any one but Don Quixote,
who leaped upon his horse, braced on his buckler, brandished
his lance, and telling Sancho that if he did not return in three
days' time he must repair to Toboso, and say to the Lady
Dulcinea that her knight had died in attempting a feat worthy of
her, was for dashing at once, pitch-dark as it was, at the enemy,
but stayed to bid his squire tighten Rozinante's girths. Honest


r -s- -

Sancho finding that tears and entreaties could not stop his master
on this mad errand, or induce him to wait until daylight, thought
fit to carry his point by means of a trick, contriving, while strain-
ing at the girths, to tie Rozinante's hinder feet together with the
ass's halter, so that, spite of spurring, he could only move in little
jumps. This made his rider desperate; but seeing that the more
he spurred the less he could move his steed, he at length gave it
up, and prepared to remain where he was for the night, or until
Rozinante recovered the proper use of his legs.


Sancho, in abject terror, stuck close to his master until day-
break, when, unperceived, he managed to loose the halter, and
Don Quixote, feeling that his horse was at last free, spurred
forward, followed by his squire on foot, leading the ass. They
went thus some distance among the tall, shady chestnut trees,
until they came to a little green spot at the foot of some steep
rocks, from whose summit leaped a mighty torrent. At their
feet were several miserable huts, from amongst which issued
the horrid sounds that had scared them the night before; and
creeping on a little farther (Don Quixote invoking the aid of
his Dulcinea in this peril), they came plump upon the cause of
it all. It was neither more nor less than six fulling-hammers,
worked by the falling stream, that had
produced those hideous noises; and at
sight of them the knight was struck
dumb, in utter confusion.
Sancho looked at him, and saw he
hung down his head with manifest indi-
cations of being quite abashed. Don
Quixote looked also at Sancho, and saw
his cheeks swollen, and his mouth full
of laughter, with evident signs of being
ready to burst with it; and notwith-
standing his vexation, he could not
forbear laughing himself at sight of
his squire, who, seeing his master had
led the way, burst out in so violent a
manner, that he was forced to hold his sides with his hands,
to save himself from splitting with laughter. Four times he ceased,
and four times he returned to his laughter, with the same im-
petuosity as at first. Whereat Don Quixote gave himself up,
especially when he heard his squire say, by way of irony, You
must know, friend Sancho, that I was born, by the will of Heaven,
in this our age of iron, to revive in it the golden, or that of gold.
I am he for whom are reserved dangers, great exploits, and
valorous achievements And so he went on repeating most
or all of the expressions which Don Quixote had used at the
first hearing those dreadful strokes. Don Quixote, perceiving
that Sancho played upon him, grew so ashamed, and enraged


to that degree, that he lifted up his lance and discharged two
such blows on him, that, had he received them on his head, as
he did on his shoulders, the knight had acquitted himself of the
payment of his wages, unless it were to his heirs. Sancho find-
ing he paid so dearly for his jokes, and fearing lest his master
should proceed further, cried out with much humility, Pray,
sir, be pacified; for indeed I did but jest."-" Though you jest,
I do not," answered Don Quixote. "Come hither, merry sir,
what think you? Suppose these mill-hammers had been some
perilous adventure, have I not showed you the courage requisite
to undertake and achieve it? Am I, think you, obliged, being
a knight as I am, to distinguish sounds, and know which are,
or are not, of a fuling-mill ? Besides, it may be, as it really is,
that I never saw any fulling-mills in my life, as thou hast, like
a pitiful rustic as thou art, having been born and bred amongst
them. But let these six fulling-hammers be transformed into
six giants, and let them beard me one by one, or all together, and
if I do not set them all on their heads, then make what jest you
will of me."-" It is enough, good sir," replied Sancho; "I
confess I have been a little too jocose; but pray tell me, now
that it is peace between us, was it not a thing to be laughed at,
and worth telling, what great fear we were in, at least what I
was in? for as to your worship I know you are unacquainted
with it, nor do you know what fear or terror is."-" I do not
deny," answered Don Quixote, "but that what has befallen us
is fit to be laughed at, but not fit to be told, for all persons are
not discreet enough to know how to take things by the right
handle."-" But," answered Sancho, "your worship knew how
to handle your lance aright, when you pointed it at my head,
and hit me on the shoulders; thanks to my own agility in
slipping aside. But let that pass, for I have heard say, He
loves thee well who makes thee weep:' and besides, your people
of condition, when they have given a servant a hard word,
presently give him some old hose and breeches; though what
is usually given after a beating, I cannot tell, unless it be that
your knights-errant, after bastinadoes, bestow islands, or kingdoms
on the continent."-" The die may run so," said Don Quixote,
"that all you have said may come to pass; so forgive what is
past, since you are considerate; and henceforward know one


thing (that you may abstain and forbear talking too much with
me), that, in all the books of chivalry I ever read, infinite as
they are, I never found that any squire conversed so much with
his master as you do with yours. And really, I account it a
great fault both in you and in me : in you, because you respect
me so little; in me, that I do not make myself respected more.
Was not Gandalin, squire to Amadis de Gaul, earl of the firm
island? and we read of him, that he always spoke to his master
cap in hand, his head inclined, and his body bent after the
Turkish fashion. From what I have said, you may infer,
Sancho, that there ought to be a difference between master and
man, and between knight and squire. So that from this day
forward we must be treated with more respect, for which way
soever I am angry with you, it will go ill with the pitcher. The
favours and benefits I promised you will come in due time;
and, if they do not come, the wages, at least, as I have told
you, will not be lost."-"Your worship says very well," answered
Sancho; but I would fain know (if perchance the time of the
favours should not come, and it should be expedient to have
recourse to the article of the wages) how much might the squire
of a knight-errant get in those times ? and whether they agreed
by the month, or by the day, like labourers ?"-" I do not be-
lieve," answered Don Quixote, "that those squires were at stated
wages, but relied on courtesy. And if I have appointed you
any, in the will I left sealed at home, it was for fear of what
might happen; for I cannot yet tell you how chivalry may suc-
ceed in these calamitous times of ours; and I would not have
my soul suffer in the other world for a trifle; for I would have
you to know, Sancho, that there is no state more perilous than
that of adventures."-" It is so, in truth," said Sancho, "since
the noise of the hammers of a fulling-mill were sufficient to
disturb and discompose the heart of so valorous a knight as
your worship. But you may depend upon it, that from hence-
forward I shall not open my lips to. make merry with your wor-
ship's matters, but shall honour you as my master and natural
lord."-" By so doing," replied Don Quixote, "your days shall
be long in the land; for next to our parents we are bound to
respect our masters, as if they were our fathers."


Maambrino's helmet-Adventure of the galley-slaves-Sancho's
ass stolen from under him.

BOUT this time it began to rain a little, and Sancho
had a mind they should betake themselves to the
fulling-mills. But Don Quixote had conceived
such an abhorrence of them that he would by no
means go in; so they struck into another road like
that they had lighted upon the day before. Soon after, Don
Quixote discovered a man on horseback, who had on his head
something which glittered, as if it had been of gold; and scarce
had he seen it, but turning to Sancho, he said, I am of opinion,
Sancho, there is no proverb but what is true; especially that
which says, 'When one door is shut, another is opened.' I say
this, because if fortune last night shut the door against what we
looked for, deceiving us with the fulling-mills, it now sets another
wide open for a better and more certain adventure, which if I fail
to enter right into, the fault will be mine, without imputing it to
my little knowledge of fulling-mills, or to the darkness of the
night. This I say, because, if I mistake not, there comes one
toward us who carries on his head Mambrino's helmet, about
which I swore the oath, you know."-" Take care, sir, what you
say, and more what you do," said Sancho, "for I would not wish
for other fulling-mills, to finish the milling and mashing our
senses."-" What in the world," replied Don Quixote, "has a
helmet to do with fulling-mills ?"-"I know not," answered
Sancho; but, if I might talk as much as I used to do, perhaps
I might give such reasons that your worship would see you are
mistaken in what you say."-" How can I be mistaken in what I


say, scrupulous traitor ?" said Don Quixote. "Tell me, seest
thou not yon knight coming toward us on a dapple-grey steed,
with a helmet of gold on his head ? "-" What I see," answered
Sancho, is only a man on a grey ass, like mine, with something
on his head that glitters."-" Why, that is Mambrino's helmet,"
said Don Quixote. Get aside, and leave me alone to deal with
him; and the helmet I have so much longed for shall be my
own."-" I shall take care to get out of the way," replied Sancho;
"but I pray God, I say again, it may not prove another fulling-
mill adventure."-" I have already told you, brother, not to mention
those fulling-mills, nor so much as to think of them, any more,"
said Don Quixote. If you do, I say no more, but I vow to mill
your soul for you." Sancho held his peace, fearing lest his
master should perform his
vow, which had struck him
all of a heap.
Now, the truth of the matter
concerning the helmet, the
steed, and the knight, which
Don Quixote saw, was this: t:
There were two villages in
that neighbourhood, one of
them so small, that it had
neither shop nor barber, but -
the other adjoining to it had
both, and the barber of the
bigger served also the lesser, in which some persons wanted
him; and for this purpose was the barber coming, bringing
with him his brass basin. Fortune so ordered it that, as he
was upon the road, it began to rain; so, that his hat might
not be spoiled (for it was a new one), he clapped the basin on
his head, and, being new scoured, it glittered half a league off.
He rode on a grey ass, as Sancho said, and this was the reason
why Don Quixote took the barber for a knight, his ass for a
dapple-grey steed, and his basin for a golden helmet; for he very
readily adapted whatever he saw to his knightly extravagancies
and wild conceits. And when he saw the poor cavalier approach,
without staying to reason the case with him, he advanced at
Rozinante's best speed, and couched his lance low, designing to

run him through and through. But when he came up to him,
without checking the fury of his career, he cried out, "Defend
yourself, caitiff, or surrender willingly what is so justly my due "
The barber, who saw this phantom coming upon him, had no
other way to avoid the thrust of the lance, but to let himself fall
down from the ass; and no sooner had he touched the ground
than, leaping up nimbler than a roebuck, he began to scour over
the plain with such speed that the wind could not overtake him.
He left the basin on the ground, with which Don Quixote was
satisfied; and saying the miscreant had acted discreetly, ordered
Sancho to take up the helmet, who, holding it in his hand, vowed
the basin was a special one, and as well worth a crown as a farth-
ing. Then he gave it to his master, who immediately clapped it
on his head, twirling it about to find the visor; and not finding
it, he said, Doubtless the pagan for whom this famous helmet
was first forged must have had a prodigious large head; and the
worst of it is, that one half is wanting." When Sancho heard the
basin called a helmet, he could not forbear laughing; but, re-
collecting his master's late anger, stopped short. "What dost
thou laugh at, Sancho ?" said Don Quixote. He answered,
" I laugh to think what a huge head the pagan had who owned
this helmet, which is, for all the world, just like a barber's basin."-
" Knowest thou, Sancho, what I take to be the case ? This en-
chanted helmet, by some strange accident, must have fallen into
the hands of one who, being ignorant of its true value, seeing it
to be of the purest gold, has melted down the one half for lucre's
sake, and of the other half made this which, as you say, does look
like a barber's basin. But to me it signifies nothing, for I will
get it put to rights in the first town where there is a smith; in the
meantime, I will wear it as I can, for something is better than
nothing, and the rather, since it will be more than sufficient to
defend me from stones."-" It will so," said Sancho, "if they do
not throw them with slings, as they did in the battle of the two
armies, when they crossed your worship's chops, and broke the
cruse in which was contained that most blessed drench."-" I am
in no great pain for having lost it; for you know, Sancho," said
Don Quixote, "I have the receipt by heart."-" So have I too,"
answered Sancho; "but if I ever make or try it again while I live,
may I never stir from this place. Besides, I do not intend to


expose myself to the hazard of standing in need of it; for I intend
to keep myself, with all my five senses, from being wounded, or
from wounding anybody. As to being tossed again in a blanket,
I say nothing; for it is difficult to prevent such mishaps; and if
they do come, there is nothing to be done, but to shrug up one's
shoulders, hold one's breath, shut one's eyes, and let one's self go
whither fortune and the blanket pleases to toss one."-" You are
no good Christian, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "for you never
forget an injury once done you. What leg have you lamed, what
rib, or what head have you broken, that you cannot yet forget that
jest ? for, to take the thing right, it was mere jest and pastime;
and, had I not understood it so, I had long ago returned thither,
and done more mischief in revenging your quarrel, than the
Greeks did for the rape of Helen."-" Let it then pass for a jest,"
said Sancho, "since it is not likely to be revenged in earnest:
but I know of what kinds the jests and the earnest were."
But, setting this aside, tell me, sir, what we shall do with this
dapple-grey steed, which looks so like a grey ass, and which that
caitiff, whom your worship overthrew, has left behind here to
shift for itself; for, to judge by his scouring off so hastily, and
flying for it, he does not think of ever returning for him; and
Dapple is a special one."-" It is not my custom," said Don
Quixote, "to plunder those I overcome, nor is it the usage of
chivalry to take from them their horses, and leave them on foot,
unless the victor hath lost his own in the conflict. Therefore,
Sancho, leave this horse, or ass, or what you will have it to be;
for, when his owner sees us gone a pretty way off, he will come
again for him."-" Goodness knows whether it were better for me
to take him," replied Sancho, "or, at least, to truck mine for him,
which, methinks, is not so good. Verily the laws of chivalry are
very strict, since they do not extend to the swapping one ass for.
another; and I would fain know whether I might exchange
furniture, if I had a mind."-" I am not very clear as to that point,"
answered Don Quixote; "but, in case of doubt, until better in-
formation can be had, I say, you may truck, if you are in extreme
want of them."-" So extreme," replied Sancho, "that I could
not want them more, if they were for my own proper person."
And so saying, he proceeded with that licence to an exchange of
caparisons, and made his own beast three parts in four the better


for his new furniture. This done, they breakfasted on the re-
mains of the plunder of the sumpter-mule, and drank of the water
of the fulling-mills, without turning their faces to look at them,
such was their abhorrence of them for the fright they had put
them in. Their anger and hunger being thus allayed, they
mounted, and, without resolving to follow any particular road,
put on whithersoever Rozinante's will led him, which drew after
it that of his master, and also that of the ass, which followed, in
love and good fellowship, wherever he led the way. Notwith-
standing which, they soon turned again into the great road,
which they followed at a venture, without any qther design.
As they thus sauntered on, Sancho ventured to represent to
his master sundry dissatisfactions which he felt at the knight's
going about in quest of adventures where, however great was the
prowess displayed, there was no one to behold, or reward it; in
short, that he feared such doings would never lead to his own
reward, be it that of governor, or earl, or whatever his master
might be pleased to bestow upon him. Don Quixote considered
this matter with much gravity, and ended by assuring his squire
that all would be well arranged. When he himself became a
king, he could easily confer nobility upon his squire, whom, in
creating him an earl, he, of course, made a gentleman-one who
must be called "your lordship," whether people liked it or not.
"Do you think," said Sancho, "I should know how to give
authority to the indignity ? "-" Dignity, you should say, and not
indignity," said his master. "So let it be," answered Sancho
Panza; "I say, I should do well enough with it, for I assure
you I was once beadle of a company, and the beadle's gown
became me so well, that everybody said I had a presence fit to
be warden of the said company. Then what will it be when I
am arrayed in'a duke's robe, all shining with gold and pearls,
like a foreign count ? I am of opinion folks will come a hundred
leagues to see me."-"You will make a goodly appearance,
indeed," said Don Quixote; "but it will be necessary to trim
your beard a little oftener, for it is so rough and frowsy, that if
you do not shave with a razor every other day at least, you will
discover what you are a musket-shot off."-" Why," said Sancho,
"it is but taking a barber into the house, and, if there be occa-
sion, I will make him follow me like a gentleman of the horse


to a grandee."-" How came you to know," demanded Don
Quixote, "that grandees have their gentlemen of the horse to
follow them ?"-" I will tell you," said Sancho. "Some years
ago I was about the court for a month, and there I saw a very
little gentleman riding backward and forward, who, they said,
was a very great lord; a man followed him on horseback, turning
about as he turned, that one would have thought he had been
his tail. I asked why that man did not ride by the other's side,
but kept always behind him? They answered me, that it was
his gentleman of the horse, and that noblemen commonly have

such to follow them; and from that day to this I have never for-
gotten it."-"You are in the right," said Don Quixote; "and in
the same manner you may carry about your barber. You may
be the first earl who carried about his barber after him; and,
indeed, it is a greater trust to shave the beard than to saddle
a horse."-" Leave the business of the barber to my care," said
Sancho; and let it be your worship's to procure yourself to be
a king, and to make me an earl."-" So it shall be," answered
Don Quixote; and, lifting up his eyes,he saw coming on, in the
same road, about a dozen men on foot, strung like beads in a

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