now the Knight was mightily off the romantick Pin to what he us'd to be as shall be shew'd presently more at large He was lodg'd in a ground Room which instead of Tapistry was hung with a course painted Stuff such as is often seen in Villages One of the Pieces had the Story of Helen of Troy when Paris stole her away from her Husband Menelaus but scrawl'd out after a bungling Rate by some wretched Dawber or other Another had the Story of Dido and Aeneas the Lady on the Top of a Turret waving a Sheet to her fugitive Guest who was in a Ship at Sea crouding all the Sails he could to get from her Don Quixote made this Observation upon the two Stories that Helen was not at all displeas'd at the Force put upon her but rather leer'd and smil'd upon her Lover Whereas on the other Side the fair Dido shew'd her Grief by her Tears which because they should be seen the Painter had made as big as Walnuts How unfortunate said Don Quixote were these two Ladies that they liv'd not in this Age or rather how much more unhappy am I for not having liv'd in theirs I would have met and stopp'd those Gentlemen and sav'd both Troy and Carthage from Destruction nay by the Death of Paris alone all these Miseries had been prevented I 'll lay you a Wager quoth Sancho that before we be much older there will not be an Inn a hedge-Tavern a blind Victualling-house nor a Barber's Shop in the Country but what will have the Story of our Lives and Deeds pasted and painted along the Walls But I could wish with all my Heart though that they may be done by a better Hand than the bungling Son of a Whore that drew these Thou art in the Right Sancho for the Fellow that did these puts me in Mind of Orbaneja the Painter of Uveda who as he sat at Work being ask'd what he was about made Answer any Thing that comes uppermost and if he chanc'd to draw a Cock he underwrit This is a Cock lest People should take it for a Fox Just such a one was he that painted or that wrote for they are much the same the History of this new Don Quixote that has lately peep'd out and ventur'd to go a strolling for his Painting or Writing is all at Random and any Thing that comes uppermost I fancy he 's also not much unlike one Mauleon a certain Poet who was at Court some Years ago and pretended to give Answer ex tempore to any manner of Questions some Body ask'd him what was the Meaning of Deum de Deo whereupon my Gentleman answer'd very pertly in Spanish De donde diere that is hab nab at a venture But to come to our own Affairs Hast thou an Inclination to have t'other Brush to Night What think you of a warm House would it not do better for that Service than the open Air Why truly quoth Sancho a Whipping is but a Whipping either abroad or within Doors and I could like a close Room well enough so it were among Trees for I love Trees hugely d' ye see methinks they bear me Company and have a Sort of fellow-feeling of my Sufferings Now I think on 't said Don Quixote it shall not be to Night honest Sancho you shall have more Time to recover and we 'll let the Rest alone till we get home 't will not be above two Days at most E'en as your Worship pleases answer'd Sancho but if I might have my Will it were best making an End of the Jobb now my Hand 's in and my Blood up There 's nothing like striking while the Iron is hot for Delay breeds Danger 't is best grinding at the Mill before the Water 's past ever take while you may have it a Bird in Hand is worth two in the Bush For Heaven's sake good Sancho cry'd Don Quixote let alone thy Proverbs if once thou go'st back to Sicut erat or as it was in the Beginning I must give thee over Can'st thou not speak as other Folks do and not after such a tedious and intricate manner How often have I told thee of this Mind what I tell you I 'm sure you 'll be the better for 't 'T is an unlucky Trick I 've got reply'd Sancho I can't bring you in three Words to the Purpose without a Proverb nor bring you in any Proverb but what I think to the Purpose but I 'll mend if I can And so for this time their Conversation broke off CHAP. LXXII How Don Quixote and Sancho got Homeâ— THat whole Day Don Quixote and Sancho continu'd in the Inn expecting the Return of Night the one to have an Opportunity to make an End of his Penance in the Fields and the other to see it fully perform'd as being the most material Preliminary to the Accomplishment of his Desires In the mean Time a Gentleman with three or four Servants came riding up to the Inn and one of 'em calling him that appear'd to be the Master by the Name of Don Alvaro Tarfe your Worship said he had as good stop here till the Heat of the Day be over In my Opinion the House looks cool and cleanly Don Quixote over-hearing the Name of Tarfe and presently â—urning to his Squire Sancho said he I am much mistaken if I had not a Glimpse of this very Name of Don Alvaro Tarfe in turning over that pretended second Part of my History As likely as not quoth Sancho but first let him alight and then we 'll question him about the Matter The Gentleman alighted and was shew'd by the Land-lady into a Ground-Room that fac'd Don Quixote's Apartment and was hung with the same Sort of course painted Stuff A While after the Stranger had undress'd for Coolness he came out to take a Turn and walked into the Porch of the House that was large and airy There he found Don Quixote to whom addressing himself Pray Sir said he which Way do you travel To a Country-Town not far off answer'd Don Quixote the Place of my Nativity And pray Sir which Way are you bound To Granada Sir said the Knight the Country where I was born And a fine Country it is reply'd Don Quixote But pray Sir may I beg the Favour to know your Name for the Information I am perswaded will be of more Consequence to my Afairs than I can well tell you They call me Don Alvaro Tarfe answer'd the Gentleman Then without Dispute said Don Quixote you are the same Don Alvaro Tarfe whose Name fills a Place in the second Part of Don Quixote de la Mancha's History that was lately publish'd by a New Author The very Man answer'd the Knight and that very Don Quixote who is the principal Subject of that Book was my intimate Acquaintance I am the Person that intic'd him from his Habitation so far at least that he had never seen the Tournament at Saragosa had it not been through my Perswasions and in
thee adorn'd with all the fineries that I could give thee if we were at Liberty and designed to be Merry This gives me more Wonder and Trouble than even our sad Misfortune therefore answer me The Renegade interpreted all that the Moor said and we saw that Zoraida answer'd not one Word but on a Sudden he spying the little Casket in which she was us'd to put her Jewels which he thought had been left in Algiers remain'd yet more astonish'd and ask'd her how that Trunk could come into our hands and what was in it to which the Renegade without expecting Zoraida's Answer reply'd Do not trouble thy self to ask thy Daughter so many Questions for with one Word I can satisfy them all Know then that she is a Christian and 't is she that has filled off our Chains and given us Liberty she is with us by her own consent and I hope well pleas'd as People should be who come from Darkness to Light and from Death to Life Is this true Daughter said the Moor It is so reply'd Zoraida How then said the Old Man art thou really a Christian and art thou she that has put thy Father into the power of his Enemies to which Zoraida reply'd I am she that is a Christian but not she that has brought thee into this Condition for my design never was to injure my Father but only to do my self good And what good hast thou done thy self said the Moor Ask that of Lela Marien reply'd Zoraida for she can tell thee best The Old Man had no sooner heard this but he threw himself with incredible Fury into the Sea and without Doubt he had been drown'd in it had not his Garments which were somewhat large kept him some time above Water Zoraida cry'd out to us to help him which we all did so readily that we pull'd him out by his Vest but half drown'd and without any feeling This so troubl'd Zoraida that she threw her self upon her Father and began to lament and take on as if her Father had been really dead We turn'd him on his Belly and by the much Water that came out of him he recover'd a little in about two hours time The Wind in the mean while was come about and forc'd us ashore so that we were oblig'd to ply our Oars not to be driven upon the Land It was our Fortune that we got into a small Bay which is made by a Promontory call'd the Cape of the Caba Rumia which in our Tongue is the Cape of the wicked Christian Woman and it is a Tradition among the Moors that there lies buried Caba the Daughter of Count Julian who was the cause of the loss of Spain and they think it Ominous to be forc'd into that Bay for they never go in otherwise than by Necessity but to us it was no unlucky Harbour but a safe Retreat considering how high the Sea went by this time We posted our Centries on Shore but kept our Oars ready to be ply'd upon occasion taking in the mean time some refreshment of what the Renegade had provided praying heartily to God and the Virgin Mary to protect us and help us to bring our design to a happy conclusion Here at the desire of Zoraida we resolv'd to set her Father on Shore with all the other Moors whom we kept fast ty'd for she had not Courage nor could her tender Heart suffer any longer to see her Father and her Country-men ill us'd before her Eyes but we did not think to do it before we were just ready to depart and then they could not much hurt us the Place being a Solitary one and no Habitations near it Our Prayers were not in vain the Wind fell and the Sea became Calm inviting us thereby to pursue our intended Voyage We unty'd our Prisoners and set them on Shore one by one which they were mightily astonish'd at When we came to put Zoraida's Father on Shore who by this time was come to himself he said Why do you think Christians that this wicked Woman desires I should be set at Liberty do you think it is for any Pity she takes of me No certainly but it is because she is not able to bear my presence which hinders the prosecution of her ill Desires I wou'd not have you think neither that she has embrac'd your Religion because she knows the difference between yours and ours but because she has heard that she may live more loosely in your Country than at Home And then turning himself to Zoraida while I and another held him fast by the Arms that he might commit no Extravagance he said O infamous and blind young Woman where art thou going in the power of these Dogs our natural Enemies curs'd be the Hour in which I begot thee and the Care and Affection with which I bred thee But I seeing he was not like to make an end of his Exclamations soon made haste to set him on Shore from whence he continu'd to give us his Curses and Complaints begging on his Knees of Mahâ—met to beg of God Almighty to confound and destroy us and when being under Sail we cou'd no longer hear him we saw his Actions which were to tear his Hair and his Beard and roll himself upon the Ground but he once strain'd his Voice so high that we heard what he said which was Come back my dear Daughter for I forgive thee all Let those Men have the Treasure which is already in their Possession and do thou return to comfort thy disconsolate Father who must else lose his Life in these Sandy Desarts All this Zoraida heard and shed abundance of Tears but cou'd answer nothing but beg that Lela Marien who had made her a Christian wou'd comfort him God knows said she I cou'd not avoid doing what I have done and that these Christians are not oblig'd to me for I cou'd not be at rest till I had done this which to thee dear Father seems so ill a thing All this she said when we were got so far out of his hearing that we cou'd scarce see him So I comforted Zoraida as well as I cou'd and we all minded our Voyage The Wind was now so right for our purpose that we made no doubt of being the next Morning upon the Spanish Shore but as it seldom happens that any Felicity comes so pure as not to be temper'd and allay'd by some mixture of Sorrow either our ill Fortune or the Moor's Curses had such an effect for a Father's Curses are to be dreaded let the Father be what he will that about Midnight when we were under full Sail with our Oars laid by we saw by the light of the Moon hard by us a round Vessel with all her Sails out coming a-head of us which she did so close to us that we were forc'd to strike our Sail not to run foul of her and the Vessel likewise seem'd to endeavour to let us go by they had come so near us to ask
a Clip when either of those two great Luminaries are darken'd He wou'd also continu'd Peter who did not stand upon such nice distinctions foretel when the year wou'd be plentiful or estil You wou'd say steril cry'd Don Quixote steril or estil reply'd the fellow that 's all as one to me But this I say that his Parents and Friends being rul'd by him grew woundy rich in a short time for he wou'd tell 'em This year sow Barley and no Wheat In this you may sow Pease and no Barley Next year will be a good year for Oyl The three after that you shan't gather a drop and whatsoever he said wou'd certainly come to pass That Science said Don Quixote is call'd Astrology I don't know what you call it answer'd Peter but I know he knew all this and a deal more But in short within some few months after he had left the Versity on a certain morning we saw him come drest for all the world like a Shepherd and driving his Flock having laid down the long Gown which he us d to wear as a Scholar At the same time one Ambrose a great friend of his who had been his fellow Scholar also took upon him to go like a Shepherd and keep him company which we all did not a little marvel aâ— I had almost forgot to tell you how he thatâ—s dead was a mighty man for making of Verses insomuch that he commonly made the Caro's which we sung on Christmas-live and the Plays which the young Lads in our neighbourhood enacted on Corpus Christi day and every one wou'd say that no body cou'd mend ' em Somewhat before that time Chrysostome's Father died and left him a deal of Wealth both in Land Money Cattle and other goods whereof the â—oung man remain'd dissolute Master and in troth he deserv'd it all for he was as good natur'd a Soul as e're trod on Shoe of Leather mighty good to the Poor a main Friend to all honest people and had a Face like a Blessing At last it came to be known that the reason of his altering his garb in that fashion was only that he might go up and down after that Shepherdess Marcella whom our Comrade told you of before for he was faln mightily in love with her And now Ill tell you such a thing you never heard the like in your born days and mayn't chance to hear of such another while you breath tho you were to live as long as Sarnah Say Sarah cry'd Don Quixote who hated to hear him blunder thus The Sarna or the Scab for that 's all one with us quoth Peter lives long enough too and if you go on thus and make me break off my Tale at every word we an 't like to have done this twelvemonth Pardon me Friend reply'd Don Quixote I only spoke to make thee understand that there 's a difference between Sarna and Sarah However thou sayst well for the Sarna that is the Scab lives longer than Sarah therefore pray make an end of thy story for I will not interrupt thee any more Well then quoth Peter you must know good master of mine that there liv'd near us one William a Yeoman who was richer yet than Chrysostome's Father now he had no Child in the varsal World but a Daughter her Mother dy'd in Child-bed of her rest her Soul and was as good a Woman as ever went upon two Legs Methinks I see her yet standing afore me with that bless'd Face of hers the Sun on one side and the Moon on the t'other She was a main Housewife and did a deal of good among the Poor for which I dare say she is at this minute in Paradice Alas her death broke old William's heart he soon went after her poor man and left all to his little Daughter that Marcella by name giving charge of her to her Unkle the Parson of our Parish Well the Girl grew such a fine Child and so like her Mother that it us'd to put us in mind of her every foot However 't was thought she 'd make a finer Woman yet and so it happen'd indeed for by that time she was fourteen or fifteen years of age no man sat his eyes on her that did not bless Heaven for having made her so handsome so that most men fell in love with her and were ready to run mad for her All this while her Unkle kept her as charily as the Apple of his Eye and as close as an Usurer's Gold Yet the report of her great Beauty and Wealth spread far and near insomuch that she had I don 't know how many Sweet-hearts almost all the young men in our Town ask'd her of her Unkle nay from I don't know how many Leagues about us there flock'd whole Droves of suiters and the very best in the Country too who all begg'd and su'd and teiz'd her Unkle to let them have her But tho he 'd have been glad to have got fairly rid of her as soon as she was fit for a Husband yet wou'd not he advise or marry her against her Will for he 's a good Man Ill say that for him and a true Christian every inch of him and scorn'd to keep her from marrying to make a benefit of her Estate and to his praise be it spoken he has been mainly commended for 't more than once when the people of our Parish meet together For I must tell you Sir Errant that here in the Country and in our little Towns there 's not the least thing can be said or done but people will talk on 't but let busy Bodies prate as they please my Life for yours the Parson must have been a good Body indeed who cou'd bring his Parish to give him a good Word especially in the Country Thou' rt in the right cry'd Don Quixote and therefore go on honest Peter for the Story is pleasant and thou tell'st it with a Grace May I never want grace quoth Peter and may I be sure to tell our Flocks right for that 's the telling most to the purpose But for our Parson as I told you before he was not for keeping his Niece from marrying and therefore he took care to let her know of all those that wou d have taken her to Wife both what they were and what they had and he was at her to have her pitch upon one of 'em for a Husband yet wou'd she never answer otherwise but that she had no mind to Wed as yet as finding herself too young for the burthen of Wedlock With these and such like come-offs she got her Unkle to let her alone and wait till she thought fit to chuse for herself For he was won t to say that Parents are not to bestow their Children where they bear no liking and in that he spoke like an honest Man And thus it happened that when we least dreamt of it that coy Lass finding herself at liberty wou'd needs turn Shepherdess and neither her
good Memory remember'd only these After this the two Divisions joyn'd into a very pretty Country-Dance and still as Cupid pass'd by the Castle he shot a Flight of Arrows and Wealth batter'd it with golden Balls then drawing out a great Purse of Roman Cat's-Skin that seem'd full of Money he threw it against the Castle the Boards of which were presently disjointed and fell down leaving the Virgin discover'd without any Defence Thereupon Wealth immediately enter'd with his Party and throwing a Gold Chain about her Neck made a Shew of leading her Prisoner But then Cupid with his Attendants came to her Rescue and both Parties engaging were parted by the Savages who joining the Boards together enclos'd the Virgin as before and all was perform'd with Measure and to the Musick that played all the while and so the Show ended to the great Content of the Spectators When all was over Don Quixote ask'd one of the Nymphs who it was that compos'd the Entertainment She answer'd that it was a certain Clergyman who liv'd in their Town that had a rare Talent that way I dare lay a Wager said Don Quixote he was more a Friend to Basil than to Camacho and knows better what belongs to a Play than a Prayer-Book He has express'd Basil's Parts and Camacho's Estate very naturally in the Design of your Dance God bless the King and Camacho say I quoth Sancho who heard this Well! Sancho says Don Quixote thou art a white-liver'd Rogue to change Parties this Way thou' rt like the Rabble which always cry Long live the Conqueror I know not what I 'm like reply'd Sancho but this I know that this Kettle full of Geese and Hens is a Bribe for a Prince Camacho has fill'd my Belly and therefore has won my Heart When shall I ladle out such dainty Scum out of Basil's Porridge-Pots added he shewing his Master the Meat and falling on lustily therefore a Fig for his Abilities say I. As he sows so let him reap and as he reaps so let him sow My old Grannam rest her Soul was wont to say there were but two Families in the World Have much and Have little and she had ever a great Kindness for the Family of the Have much A Doctor gives his Advice by the Pulse of your Pocket and an Ass cover'd with Gold looks better than an Horse with a Pack-Saddle so once more I say Camacho for my Money Hast thou not done yet said Don Quixote I must have done answer'd Sancho because I find you begin to be in a Passion else I had Work cut out for three Days and a Half Well! said Don Quixote thou wilt never be silent till thy Mouth 's full of Clay when thou' rt dead I hope I shall have some Rest Faith and Troth now Master quoth Sancho you did ill to talk of Death Heaven bless us 't is no Child's Play you 've e'en spoil'd my Dinner the very Thought of raw Bones and lanthorn Jaws makes me sick Death eats up all things both the young Lamb and old Sheep and I have heard our Parson say he values a Prince no more than a Clown all 's Fish that comes to his Net he throws at all and sweeps Stakes he 's no Mower that takes a Nap at Noon-Day but drives on fair Weather or foul and cuts down the green Grass as well as the ripe Corn He 's neither squeamish nor queasy-stomach'd for he swallows without chewing and crams down all things into his ungracious Maw and though you can see no Belly he has he has a confounded Dropsy and thirsts after Mens Lives which he guggles down like Mother's Milk Hold hold cry'd the Knight go no further for thou art come to a very handsome Period thou hast said as much of Death in thy home-spun Cant as a good Preacher could have done Thou hast got the Knack of Preaching Man I must get thee a Pulpit and Benefice I think He preaches well that lives well quoth Sancho that 's all the Divinity I understand Thou hast enough said Don Quixote only I wonder at one thing 't is said the Beginning of Wisdom proceeds from the Fear of Heaven how happens it then that thou who fearest a Lizard more than Omnipotence should'st be so wise Come Sir reply'd Sancho judge you of your Knight-Errantry and don 't meddle with other Men's Fears for I am as pretty a Fearer of Heaven as any of my Neighbours and so let me dispatch this Scum and much Good may 't do thee honest Sancho Consider Sir we must give an Account for our idle Words another Day I must have t'other Pluck at the Kettle With that he attack'd it with so couragious an Appetite that he sharpen'd his Master's who would certainly have kept him Company had he not been prevented by that which Necessity obliges me to relate this Instant CHAP. XXI The Progress of Camacho's Wedding with other delightful Accidents WHILE Don Quixote and Sancho were discoursing as the former Chapter has told you they were interrupted by a great Noise of Joy and Acclamations rais'd by the Horsemen who shouting and galloping went to meet the young Couple who surrounded by a thousand Instruments and Devices were coming to the Arbour accompany'd by the Curate their Relations and all the better sort of the Neighbourhood set out in their Holiday-Cloaths Hey-day quoth Sancho as soon as he saw the Bride what have we here Adzuckers this is no Country-Lass but a fine City-Dame all in her Silks and Sattins by the Mass Look look ye Master see if instead of Glass Necklaces she have not on Fillets of rich Coral and instead of green Serge of Cuenca a thirty-pil'd Velvet I 'll warrant her Lacing is white Linnen but hold may I never squint if it ben't Sattin Bless us see what Rings she has on her Fingers no Jet no pewter Bawbles pure beaten Gold as I 'm a Sinner and set with Pearls too If every Pearl ben't as white as a Syllabub and each of them as precious as an Eye How she 's bedizon'd and glistens from Top to Toe And now yonder again what fine long Locks the young Slut has got If they ben't false I ne'er saw longer in my born Days Ah Jade what a fine stately Person she is What a many Trinkets and glaring Gugaws are dangling in her Hair and about her Neck Cudz-niggers she puts me in mind of an over-loaden Date-tree I' my Conscience she 's a juicy bit a Mettl'd Wench and might well pass Muster in Flanders Well! I say no more but happy is the Man that has thee Don Quixote could not help smiling to hear Sancho set forth the Bride after his Rustick way though at the same time he beheld her with admiration thinking her the most Beautiful Woman he had ever seen except his Mistress Dulcinea However the fair Quiteria appear'd somewhat pale probably with the ill Rest which Brides commonly have the Night before their Marriage in order to Dress themselves to Advantage
Life and Atchievements Of the Renowned DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA VOL. IV. CHAP. XXXIV Containing Ways and Means for disinchanting the Peerless Dulcinea del Toboso being one of the most famous Adventures in the whole Book THE Duke and the Dutchess were extremely diverted with the Humours of their Guests Resolving therefore to improve their Sport by carrying on some pleasant Design that might bear the Appearance of an Adventure they took the Hint from Don Quixote's Account of Montesino's Cave as a Subject from which they might raise an extraordinary Entertainment The rather since to the Dutchess's Amazement Sancho's Simplicity was so great as to believe that Dulcinea del Toboso was really inchanted though he himself had been the first Contriver of the Story and her only Inchanter Accordingly having given Directions to their Servants that nothing might be wanting and propos'd a Day for Hunting the Wild Boar in five or six Days they were ready to set out with a Train of Huntsmen and other Attendants not unbecoming the greatest Prince They presented Don Quixote with a Hunting-Suit but he refus'd it alledging it superfluous since he was in a short Time to return to the hard Exercise of Arms and could carry no Sumpters or Wardrobes along with him But Sancho readily accepted one of fine green Cloth which was prepar'd for him because he imagin'd it a good Moveable which he would convert into Money upon the first Occasion The Day prefix'd being come Don Quixote Arm'd and â—ancho equipp'd himself in his new Suit and mounting his Ass which he would not quit for a good Horse that was offer'd him he crowded in among the Train of Sportsmen The Dutchess also in a Dress both odd and gay made one of the Company The Knight who was Courtesy it self very gallantly would needs hold the Reins of her Palfrey though the Duke seem'd very unwilling to let him In short they came to the Scene of their Sport which was in a Wood between two very high Mountains where alighting and taking their several Stands the Dutchess with a pointed Javelin in her Hand attended by the Duke and Don Quixote took a Pass where the Boar always us'd to make his way The Hunters posted themselves in several Lanes and Paths as they most conveniently could But as for Sancho he chose to stay behind 'em all with his Dapple whom he would by no means leave a Moment for fear the poor Creature should meet with some sad Accident And now the Chace began with a full Cry the Dogs open'd the Horns sounded and the Huntsmen hollow'd in so loud a Consort that there was no hearing one another Soon after a hideous Boar of a monstrous Size came on gnashing his Teeth and Tusks and foaming at the Mouth and being baited hard by the Dogs and follow'd close by the Huntsmen made furiously towards the Pass which Don Quixote had taken Whereupon the Knight grasping his Shield and drawing his Sword mov'd forward to receive the raging Beast The Duke join'd him with a Boar-Spear and the Dutchess would have been foremost had not the Duke prevented her Sancho alone seeing the furious Animal resolv'd to shift for one and leaving Dapple away he scudded as fast as his Legs would carry him towards an high Oak to the top of which he endeavour'd to clamber But as he was getting up one of the Boughs unluckily broke and down he was tumbling when a Snag or Stump of another Bough caught hold of his new Coat and stopp'd his Fall slinging him in the Air by the Middle so that he could neither get up nor down His fine Green Coat was torn and he fancy'd every Moment the wild Boar was running that way with foaming Chaps and dreadful Tusks to tear him to pieces Which so disturb'd him that he roar'd and bellow'd for help as if some wild Beast had been devouring him in good earnest At last the Tusky Boar was laid at his lengâ— with a Number of pointed Spears fix'd in hiâ— and Don Quixote being alarm'd by Sancho's Noiseâ— which he could distinguish easily look'd about and discover'd him swinging in the Tree with hiâ— Head downwards and close by him poor Dapplâ— who like a true Friend never forsook him in his Adversity For Cid Hamet observes that they were such true and inseparable Friends that Sancho was seldom seen without Dapple or Dapple without Sancho Don Quixote went and took down his Squire who as soon as he was at Liberty began to examine the Damage his fine Hunting-Suit had receiv'd which griev'd him to the Soul for he priz'd it as much as if it had made him Heir to an Estate Mean while the Boar being laid across a large Mule and cover'd with Branches of Rosemary and Myrtle was carry'd in Triumph by the Victorious Huntsmen to a large Field-Tent pitch'd in the middle of the Wood where an excellent Entertainment was provided suitable to the Magnificence of the Founder Sancho drew near the Dutchess and shewing her his torn Coat had we been hunting the Hare now quoth he my Coat might have slept in a whole Skin For my part I wonder what Pleasure there can be in beating the Bushes for a Beast which if it does but come at you will run its plaguy Tushes in your Guts and be the Death of you I han't forgot an old Song to this Purpose May Fate of Fabila be thine And make thee Food for Bears or Swine The Duke Dutchess and Don Quixot hunting the wild Boar Sancho Pancha falling out of a Tree is catch'd by the Bâ—â—â—â— page 339. After this and such like diverting Talk they left the Tent and walk'd into the Wood to see whether any Game had fall'n into their Nets Now while they were thus intent upon their Sport the Night drew on apace and more cloudy and overcast than was usual at that Time of the Year which was about Midsummer but it happen'd very critically for the better carrying on the intended Contrivance A little while after the close of the Evening when it grew quite dark in a Moment the Wood seem'd all on fire and blaz'd in every Quarter This was attended by an alarming Sound of Trumpets and other Warlike Instruments answering one another from all Sides as if several Parties of Horse had been hastily marching through the Wood Then presently was heard a confus'd Noise of Moorish Cries such as are us'd in joining Battel which together with the rattling of the Drums the loud Sound of the Trumpets and other Instruments of War made such a hideous and dreadful Consort in the Air that the Duke was amaz'd the Dutchess astonish'd Don Quixote was surpriz'd and Sancho shook like a Leaf and even those that knew the Occasion of all this were affrighted This Consternation caus'd a general Silence and by and by one riding Post equipp'd like a Devil pass'd by the Company winding a huge hollow Horn that made a horrible hoarse Noise Hark you Post said the Duke whither so fast What are you
of Age neither could she be thought above twenty Close by hâ—r was a Figure clad in a long Gown like that of a Magistrate reaching down to its Feet and its Head cover'd with a black Veil When they came directly opposite to the Company the Shaulms or Hautboys that play'd before immediately ceas'd and the Spanish Harps and Lutes that were in the Chariot did the like then the Figure in the Gown stood up and opening its Garments and throwing away its Mourning Vail disover'd a bare and frightful Skeleton that represented the deform'd Figure of Death which startl'd Don Quixote made Sancho's Bones rattle in his Skin for fear and caus'd the Duke and the Dutchess to seem more than commonly disturb'd This living Death being thus got up in a dull heavy sleeping Tone as if its Tongue had not been well awake began in this Manner MERLIN'S SPEECH BEhold old Merlin in Romantick Writ Miscall'd the spurious Progeny of Hell A Falshood current with the stamp of Age I Reign o'er Magick Center of Force That oft evokes and rates the rigid Pow'rs Archive of Fate 's dread Records in the Skies Coevous with the Chivalry of Yore All brave Knight-Errants still I 've deem'd my charge Heirs of my Love and Fav'rites of my Charms While other Magick Seers a verse from Good Are dire and baleful like the Seat of Woe My nobler Soul where Pow'r and Pity joyn Diffuses Blessings as they sâ—atter Plagues Deep in the Nether World the dreary Caves Where my retreated Soul in silent State Forms Mystick Figures and Tremendous Spells I heard the Peerless Dulcinea's Moans Appriz'd of her distress her frightful Change From Princely State and Beauty near Divine To the vile semblance of a rustick Quean The dire Misdeed of Necromantick Hate I sympathiz'd and awfully revolv'd Twice fifty thousand scrolls occult and loath'd Summ of my Art Hell's black Philosophy Then clos'd my Soul within this bony Trunk This ghastly Form the Ruines of a Man And rise in Pity to reveal a Cure To Woes so great and break the cursed Spell O Glory thou of all that e'er cou'd grace A Coat of Steel and Fence of Adamant Light Lanthorn Path and Polar Star and Guide To all who dare dismiss ignoble Sleep And downy Sloth for Exercise of Arms For Toils continual Peril Wounds and Blood Knight of unfathom'd Worth Abyss of Praise Who blend'st in one the Prudent and the Brave To thee great Quixote I this Truth declare That to restore to her first State and Form Toboso's Pride the peerless Dulcinea 'T is Fate 's Decree That Sancho thy good Squire On his bare brawny Buttocks should bestow Three thousand lashes and eke three hundred more Each to afflict and sting and gall him sore So shall relent the Authors of her Woes Whose awful Will I for her Ease disclose Body o' me quoth Sancho three thousand Lashes I won't give my self three I 'll assoon give my self three Stabs in the Guts May you and your disinchanting go to the Devil What a Plague have my Buttocks to do with the Black Art Passion of my Heart Master Merlin if you have no better way for disinchanting the Lady Dulcinea she may e'en lye betwitch'd to her dying Day for me How now opprobrious Rascal cry'd Don Quixote stinking Garlick-eater Sirrah I will take you and tye your Dogship to a Tree as naked as your Mother bore you and there I will not only give you three thousand three hundred Lashes but six thousand six hundred ye Varlet and so smartly that you shall feel 'em still though you rub your Back-side three thousand Times Scoundrel Answer me a Word you Rogue and I 'll tear out your Soul Hold hold cry'd Merlin hearing this this must not be the Stripes inflicted on honest Sancho must be voluntary without Compulsion and only laid on when he thinks most convenient No set time is for the Task prefix'd and if he has a mind to have abated one half of this Atonement 't is allow'd provided the remaining Stripes be struck by a strange Hand and heavily laid on Hold you there quoth Sancho neither a strange Hand nor my own neither heavy nor light shall touch my Bum. What a Pox did I bring Madam Dulcinea del Toboso into the World that my hind Parts should pay for the harm her Eyes have done Let my Master Don Quixote whip himself he 's a part of her he calls her every foot my Life my Soul my Sustenance my Comfort and all that So e'en let him jirk out her Inchantment at his own Bum's cost but as for any whipping of me I deny and prenounce it flat and plain No sooner had Sancho thus spoke his Mind but the Nymph that sat by Merlin's Ghost in the glittering Apparel rising and lifting up her thin Veil discover'd a very Beautiful Face and with a Masculine Grace but no very agreeable Voice addressing Sancho O thou disastrous Squire said she thou Lump with no more Soul than a broken Pitcher Heart of Cork and Bowels of Flint Hadst thou been Commanded base Sheep-stealer to have thrown thy self headlong from the top of a high Tower to the Ground hadst thou been desir'd Enemy of Mankind to have swallow'd a dozen of Toads two dozen of Lizards and three dozen of Snakes or hadst thou been requested to have Butcher'd thy Wife and Children I should not wonder that it had turn'd thy squeamish Stomach But to make such a hesitation at three thousand three hundred Stripes which every puny School-boy makes nothing of receiving every Month 't is amazing nay astonishing to the tender and commiserating Bowels of all that hear thee and will be a Blot in thy Scutcheon to all Futurity Look up thou wretched and Marble-hearted Animal look up and fix thy huge louring Goggle-Eyes upon the bright Luminaries of my Sight Behold those briny Torrents which streaming down furrow the flowery Meadows of my Cheeks Relent base and inexorable Monster relent let thy savage Breast confess at last a sense of my Distress and mov'd with the tenderness of my Youth that consumes and withers in this vile Transformation crack this sordid Shell of Rusticity that invelopes my blooming Charms In vain has the Goodness of Merlin permitted me to reassume a while my native Shape since neither that nor the Tears of Beauty in Affliction which are said to reduce obdurate Rocks to the softness of Cotton and Tygers to the tenderness of Lambs are sufficient to melt thy haggard Breast Scourge scourge that Brawny Hide of thine Stubborn and unrelenting Brute that course inclosure of thy courser Soul and rouse up thus thy self from that base Sloth that makes thee live only to eat and pamper thy lazy Flesh indulging still thy voracious Appetite Restore me the Delicacy of my Skin the sweetness of my Disposition and the Beauty of my Face But if my Entreaties and Tears cannot work thee into a reasonable compliance if I am not yet sufficiently Wretched to move thy Pity at least
Vertue the Medium of all thy Actions and thou wilt have no Cause to envy those whose Birth gives 'em the Titles of Great Men and Princes for Nobility is inherited but Vertue acquir'd And Vertue is worth more in it self than Nobleness of Birth If any of thy poor Relations come to see thee never reject nor affront 'em but on the contrary receive and entertain 'em with marks of Favour in this thou wilt display a Generosity of Nature and please Heaven that would have no body despise what it has made If thou send'st for thy Wife as 't is not sit a Man in thy Station should be long without his Wife and she ought to partake of her Husband 's good Fortune teach her instruct her polish her the best thou can'st till her Native Rusticity is refin'd to a handsomer Behaviour For often an ill-bred Wife throws down all that a good and discreet Husband can build up Shoud'st thou come to be a Widower which is not impossible and thy Post recommend thee to a Bride of a higher degree take not one that shall like a Fishing-Rod only serve to catch Bribes For take it from me the Judge must at the general and last Court of Judicature give a strict account of the discharge of his Duty and must pay severely at his dying Day for what he has suffer'd his Wife to take Let never obstinate Self-conceit be thy Guide 't is the Vice of the Ignorant who vainly presume on their Understanding Let the Tears of the Poor find more Compassion though not more Justice than the Informations of the Rich. Be equally sollicitous to find out the Truth where the Offers and Presents of the Rich and the Sobs and Importunities of the Poor are in the Way Where-ever Equity should or may take Place let not the Extent and Rigour of the Law bear too much on the Delinquent for 't is not a better Character in a Judge to be Rigorous than to be Indulgent When the Severity of the Law is to be softned let Pity not Bribes be the Motive If thy Enemy has a Cause before thee turn away thy Eyes from thy Prejudice and fix them on the matter of Fact In another Man's Cause be not blinded by thy own Passions for those Errors are almost without Remedy or their Cure will prove Expensive to thy Wealth and Reputation When a Beautiful Woman comes before thee turn away thy Eyes from her Tears and thy Ears from her Lamentations and take time to consider sedately her Petition if thou would'st not have thy Reason and Honesty lost in her Sighs and Tears Revile not with Words those whom their Crimes oblige thee to Punish in Deed for the Punishment is enough to the Wretches without the Addition of Ill Language In the Tryal of Criminals consider as much as thou can'st without Prejudice to the Plaintiff how defenceless and open the Miserable are to the Temptations of our corrupt and deprav'd Nature and so far shew thy self full of Pity and Clemency for tho' God's Attributes are equal yet his Mercy is more attractive and pleasing in our Eyes than his Justice If thou observ'st these Rules Sancho thy Days shall be long thy Fame eternal thy Recompence full and thy Felicity unspeakable Thou shalt marry thy Children and Grand-Children to thy Heart's Desire they shall want no Titles Belov'd of all Men thy Life shall be peaceable thy Death in a good and venerable old Age and the Off spring of thy Grand-Children with their soft Youthful Hands shall close thy Eyes The Precepts I have hitherto given thee regard the good and ornament of thy Mind Now give Attention to those Directions that relate to the adorning of thy Body CHAP. XLIII The second Part of Don Quixote's Advice to Sancho Pança WHO would not have taken Don Quixote for a Man of extraordinary Wisdom and as excellent Morals having heard him documentize his Squire in this manner only as we have often observ'd in this History the least talk of Knight-Errantry spoil'd all and made his Understanding Muddy But in every thing else his Judgment was very clear and his Apprehension very nice so that every moment his Actions us'd to discredit his Judgment and his Judgment his Actions But in these Oeconomical Precepts which he gave Sancho he shew'd himself Master of a pleasant Fancy and mingl'd his Judgment and Extravagance in equal proportions Sancho lent him a great deal of Attention in hopes to Register all those good Counsels in his Mind and put them in practice not doubting but by their means he should acquit himself of his Duty like a Man of Honour As to the Government of thy Person and Family pursu'd Don Quixote my first Injunction is Cleanliness Pare thy Nails nor let 'em grow as some do whose Folly perswades them that long Nails add to the beauty of the Hand till they look more like Castril's Claws than a Man's Nails 'T is foul and unsightly Keep thy Cloaths tight about thee for a slovenly Looseness is an Argument of a careless Mind unless such a Negligence like that of Julius Caesar be affected for some cunning Design Prudently examine what thy Income may amount to in a Year And if sufficient to afford thy Servants Liveries let 'em be decent and lasting rather than gaudy and for Show and for the over-plus of thy good Husbandry bestow it on the Poor That is if thou canst keep six Footmen have but three and let what would maintain three more be laid out in Charitable Uses By that Means thou wilt have Attendants in Heaven as well as on Earth which our vain-glorious great ones who are Strangers to this Practice are not like to have Lest thy Breath betray thy Peasantry defile it not with Onions and Garlick Walk with Gravity and speak with Deliberation and yet not as if thou didst hearken to thy own Words for all Affectation is a Fault Eat little at Dinner and less at Supper for the Stomach is the Store-house whence Health is to be imparted to the whole Body Drink moderately for Drunkenness neither keeps a Secret nor observes a Promise Be careful not to chew on both sides that is fill not thy Mouth too full and take heed not to eruct before Company Eruct quoth Sancho I don't understand that cramp Word To eruct answer'd Don Quixote is as much as to say to Belch but this being one of the most disagreeable and beastly Words in our Language though very expressive and significant the more Polite instead of Belching say Eructing which is borrow'd from the Latin Now though the Vulgar may not understand this it matters not much for Use and Custom will make it familiar and understood By such Innovations are Languages enrich'd when the Words are adopted by the Multitude and Naturaliz'd by Custom Faith and Troth quoth Sancho of all your Counsels I 'll be sure not to forget this for I 've been mightily given to Belching Say Eructing reply'd Don Quixote and leave off
the Road while the rest of the Footmen had secured Sancho and Dapple and drove 'em silently before ' em Don Quixote attempted twice or thrice to ask the Cause of this Usage but he no sooner began to open but they were ready to run the Heads of their Spears down his Throat Poor Sancho far'd worse yet for as he offer'd to speak one of the Foot-Guards gave him a Jagg with a Goad and serv'd Dapple as bad though the poor Beast had no Thought of saying a Word As it grew Night they mended their Pace and then the Darkness encreas'd the Fears of the Captive Knight and Squire especially when every Minute their Ears were tormented with these or such like Words On on ye Troglodytes Silence ye Barbarian Slaves Vengeance ye Anthropophagi Grumble not ye Scythians Be blind ye Murdering Polyphemes ye devouring Lions Bless us thought Sancho what Names do they calls us here Trollopites Barber's Slaves and Andrew Hodgepodgy City-Cans and Bur-frames I don't like the Sound of ' em Here 's one Mischief on the Neck of another When a Man 's down down with him I wou'd compound for a good dry Beating and glad to ' scape so too Don Quixote was no less perplex'd not being able to imagine the Reason either of their hard Usage or scurrilous Language which hitherto promis'd but little Good At last after they had rode about an Hour in the Dark they came to the Gates of a Castle which Don Quixote presently knowing to be the Duke's where he had so lately been Heaven bless me cry'd he what do I see Was not this the Mansion of Civility and Humanity But thus the Vanquish'd are doom'd to see every Thing frown upon ' em With that the two Prisoners were led into the great Court of the Castle and found such strange Preparations made there as encreas'd at once their Fear and their Amazement as we shall find in the next Chapter CHAP. LXIX Of the most singular and strangest Advenventure that befel Don Quixote in the whole Course of this famous History ALL the Horse-men alighted and the Footmen snatching up Don Quixote and Sancho in their Arms hurry'd 'em into the Court-Yard that was illuminated with above a hundred Torches six'd in huge Candle-sticks and about all the Galleries round the Court were plac'd above five hundred Lights insomuch that all was Day in the Midst of the Darkness of the Night In the Middle of the Court there was a Tomb rais'd some two Yards from the Ground with a large Pall of black Velvet over it and round about it a hundred Tapers of Virgins-Wax stood burning in Silver-Candlesticks Upon the Tomb lay the Body of a young Damsel who though to all Appearance dead was yet so beautiful that Death it self seem'd lovely in her Face Her Head was crown'd with a Garland of fragrant Flowers and supported by a Pillow of Cloath of Gold and in her Hands that laid across her Breast was seen a Branch of that yellow Palm that us'd of old to adorn the Triumphs of Conquerors On one Side of the Court there was a Kind of a Theatre erected on which two Personages sate in Chairs who by the Crowns upon their Heads and Scepters in their Hands were or at least appear'd to be Kings By the Side of the Theatre at the Foot of the Steps by which the Kings ascended two other Chairs were plac'd and thither Don Quixote and Sancho were led and caus'd to sit down the Guards that conducted 'em continuing silent all the while and making their Prisoners understand by awful Signs that they must also be silent But there was no great Occasion for that Caution for their Surprize was so great that it had ty'd up their Tongues with Amazement At the same Time two other Persons of Note ascended the Stage with a numerous Retinue and seated themselves on two stately Chairs by the two Theatrical Kings These Don Quixote presently knew to be the Duke and Dutchess at whose Palace he had been so nobly entertain'd But what he discover'd as the greatest Wonder was that the Corps upon the Tomb was the Body of the fair Altisidora Assoon as the Duke and Dutchess had ascended Don Quixote and Sancho made 'em aâ— profound Obeysance which they return'd with a short declining of their Heads Upon this a certain Officer enter'd the Court and coming up to Sancho he clapp'd over him a black Buckram-Frock all figur'd over with Flames of Fire and taking off his Cap he put on his Head a Kind of Mitre such as is worn by those who undergo publick Penance by the Inquisition whispering him in the Ear at the same Time that if he did but offer to open his Lips they would put a Gag in his Mouth or murder him to rights Sancho view'd himself over from Head to Foot and was a little startl'd to see himself all over in Fire and Flames but yet since he did not feel himself burn he car'd not a Farthing He pull'd off his Mitre and found it pictur'd over with Devils but he put it on again and bethought himself that since neither the Flames burn'd him nor the Devils ran away with him 't was well enough Don Quixote also stedfastly survey'd him and in the Midst of all his Apprehensions could not forbear smiling to see what a strange Figure he made And now in the midst of that profound Silence while every Thing was mute and Expectation most atrentive a soft and charming Symphony of Flutes that seem'd to issue from the Hollow of the Tomb agreeably fill'd their Ears Then there appear'd at the Head of the Monument a young Man extremely handsome and dress'd in a Roman Habit who to the Musick of a Harp touch'd by himself sung the following Stanza's with an excellent Voice Altisidora's Dirge While slain the fair Altisidora lies A Victim to Don Quixote's cold Disdain Here all Things mourn all Pleasure with her dies And Weeds of Woe disguise the Graces Train I 'll Sing the Beauties of her Face and Mind Her hopeless Passion her unhappy Fate No Orpheus's self in Numbers more refin'd Her Charms her Love her Sufferings cou'd relate Nor shall the Fair alone in Life be sung Her boundless Praise is my immortal Choice In the cold Grave when Death benums my Tongue For thee bright Maid my Soul shall find a Voice When from this narrow Cell my Spirit 's free And wanders grieving with the Shades below Ev'n o'er Oblivion's Waves I 'll sing to thee And Hell it self shall sympathize in Woe Enough cry'd one of the two Kings no more Divine Musician it were an endless Task to enumerate the Perfections of Altisidora or give us the Story of her Fate Nor is she dead as the ignorant Vulgar surmises No in the Mouth of Fame she lives and once more shall revive as soon as Sancho has undergone the Penance that is decreed to restore her to the World Therefore O Rhadamanthus thou who sittest in joynt Commission with me in