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The Third BookChapter XI.
Chapter XI.
Which Treats of the Strange Adventures That Happened to the Knight of the
Mancha in Sierra Morena; and of the Penance He Did There, in Imitation of
Beltenebros
Don Quixote took leave of the goatherd, and, mounting once again on
Rozinante, he commanded Sancho to follow him, who obeyed but with a very ill
will: and thus they travelled by little and little, entering into the thickest
and roughest part of all the mountain; and Sancho went almost burst with a
desire to reason with his master, and therefore wished in mind that he would
once begin, that he might not transgress his commandment of silence imposed on
him, but growing at last wholly impotent to contain himself speechless any
longer: `Good sir Don Quixote, I pray you give me your blessing and licence;
for I mean to depart from this place, and return to my house, my wife and
children, with whom I shall be, at least, admitted to reason and speak my
pleasure; for that you would desire to have me keep you company through these
deserts night and day, and that I may not speak when I please, is but to bury
me alive. Yet, if fortune had so happily disposed our affairs as that beasts
could speak, as they did in Guisopete`s time, the harm had been less; for then
would I discourse a while with Rozinante (seeing my niggardly fortune hath not
consented I might do it with mine ass) what I thought good, and in this sort
would I waive my mishaps; for it is a stubborn thing, and that cannot be borne
with patience, to travel all the days of our life, and not to encounter any
other thing than tramplings under feet, tossings in coverlets, blows of stones
and buffets, and be besides all this forced to sew up our mouths, a man daring
not to break his mind, but to stand mute like a post.` `Sancho, I understand
thee now,` quoth Don Quixote; `thou diest with longing to speak that which I
have forbidden thee to speak; account, therefore, that commandment revoked,
and say what thou pleasest, on condition that this revocation be only
available and of force whilst we dwell in these mountains, and no longer.`
`So be it,` quoth Sancho; `let me speak now, for what may after befall,
God only knows.` And then, beginning to take the benefit of his licence, he
said, `I pray you, tell me what benefit could you reap by taking Queen
Madasima`s part? or what was it to the purpose that that abbot was her friend
or no? For, if you had let it slip, seeing you were not his judge, I verily
believe that the fool had prosecuted his tale, and we should have escaped the
blow of the stone, the trampling under feet, and spurnings; yea, and more than
five or six good buffets.` `In faith, Sancho,` quoth Don Quixote, `if thou
knewest as well as I did how honourable and principal a lady was Queen
Madasima, thou wouldst rather say that I had great patience, seeing I did not
strike him on the mouth out of which such blasphemies issued; for it is a very
great dishonour to aver or think that any queen would fall in love with a
barber. For the truth of the history is, that Master Elisabat, of whom the
madman spoke, was very prudent, and a man of a sound judgment, and served the
queen as her tutor and physician; but to think that she was his leman is a
madness worthy the severest punishment; and to the end thou mayst see that
Cardenio knew not what he said, thou must understand that when he spoke it he
then was wholly beside himself.`
`That`s it which I say,` quoth Sancho, `that you ought not to make
account of words spoken by a fool; for if fortune had not assisted you, but
addressed the stone to your head, as it did to your breast, we should have
remained in good plight, for having turned so earnestly in that my lady`s
defence, whom God confound. And think you that Cardenio would not escape the
dangers of the law, by reason of his madness?` `Any knight - errant,` answered
Don Quixote, `is bound to turn for the honour of women, of what quality
soever, against mad or unmad men; how much more for queens of so high degree
and worth as was Queen Madasima, to whom I bear particular affections for her
good parts? For, besides her being marvellous beautiful, she was, moreover,
very prudent and patient in her calamities, which were very many; and the
company and counsels of Master Elisabat proved very beneficial and necessary,
to induce her to bear her mishaps with prudence and patience: and hence the
ignorant and ill - meaning vulgar took occasion to suspect and affirm that she
was his friend. But I say again they lie, and all those that do either think
or say it, do lie a thousand times.`
`Why,` quoth Sancho, `I neither say it nor think it. Let those affirm any
such thing, eat that lie and swallow it with their bread; and if they of whom
you speak lived lightly, they have given account to God thereof by this. I
come from my vineyard; I know nothing. I am not afraid to know other men`s
lives; for he that buys and lies shall feel it in his purse. How much more,
seeing I was born naked, and am now naked, I can neither win nor lose! A man
is but a man, though he have a hose on his head; but howsoever, what is that
to me? And many think there is a sheep where there is no fleece. But who shall
bridle a man`s understanding, when men are profane?` `Good God! quoth Don
Quixote, `how many follies hast thou inserted here! and how wide from our
purpose are those proverbs which thou hast recited! Honest Sancho, hold thy
peace; and from henceforth endeavour to serve thy master, and do not meddle
with things which concern thee nothing; and understand, with all thy five
senses, that whatsoever I have done, do, or shall do, is wholly guided by
reason, and conformable to the rules of knighthood, which I know better than
all the other knights that ever professed them in the world.` `Sir,` quoth
Sancho, `and is it a good rule of chivalry that we go wandering and lost among
these mountains in this sort, without path or way, in the search of a madman,
to whom peradventure, after he is found, will return a desire to finish what
he began, not of his tale, but of your head and my ribs, by endeavouring to
break them soundly and thoroughly?`
`Peace, I say, Sancho, once again,` quoth Don Quixote; `for thou must wit
that the desire of finding the madman alone brings me not into these parts so
much, as that which I have in my mind to achieve a certain adventure, by which
I shall acquire eternal renown and fame throughout the universal face of the
earth; and I shall therewithal seal all that which may render a knight -
errant complete and famous.` `And is the adventure very dangerous?` quoth
Sancho Panza. `No,` answered the Knight of the Ill - favoured Face, `although
the die might run in such sort as we might cast a hazard instead of an
encounter; but all consists in thy diligence.` `In mine?` quoth Sancho. `Yes,`
quoth Don Quixote; `for if thou returnest speedily from the place whereunto I
mean to send thee, my pain will also end shortly, and my glory commence very
soon after. And because I will not hold thee long suspended, awaiting to hear
the effect of my words, I would have thee to know that the famous Amadis de
Gaul was one of the most accomplished knights - errant, - I do not say well
saying he was one; for he was the only, the first, and prime lord of as many
as lived in his age. An evil year and a worse month for Don Belianis, or any
other that shall dare presume to compare with him, for I swear that they all
are, questionless, deceived. I also say, that when a painter would become rare
and excellent in his art, he procures to imitate the patterns of the most
singular masters of his science; and this very rule runs current throughout
all other trades and exercises of account which serve to adorn a well -
disposed commonwealth; and so ought and doth he that means to obtain the name
of a prudent and patient man, by imitating Ulysses, in whose person and
dangers doth Homer delineate unto us the true portraiture of patience and
sufferance; as likewise Virgil demonstrates, under the person of Aeneas, the
duty and valour of a pious son, and the sagacity of a hardy and expert
captain, not showing them such as indeed they were, but as they should be, to
remain as an example of virtue to ensuing posterities. And in this very manner
was Amadis the north star and the sun of valorous and amorous knights, whom
all we ought to imitate which march under the ensigns of love and chivalry.
And this being so manifest as it is, I find, friend Sancho, that the knight -
errant who shall imitate him most shall likewise be nearest to attain the
perfection of arms. And that wherein this knight bewrayed most his prudence,
valour, courage, patience, constancy, and love, was when he retired himself to
do penance, being disdained by his lady Oriana, to the Poor Rock, changing his
name unto that of Beltenebros: a name certainly most significative and proper
for the life which he had at that time willingly chosen. And I may more easily
imitate him herein than in cleaving of giants, beheading of serpents, killing
of monsters, overthrowing of armies, putting navies to flight, and finishing
of enchantments. And seeing that this mountain is so fit for that purpose,
there is no reason why I should overslip the occasion, which doth so
commodiously proffer me her locks.`
`In effect,` quoth Sancho, `what is it you mean to do in these remote
places?` `Have not I told thee already,` said Don Quixote, `that I mean to
follow Amadis, by playing here the despaired, wood, and furious man? To
imitate likewise the valiant Orlando, where he found the tokens by a fountain
that Angelica the fair had abused herself with Medozo; for grief whereof he
ran mad, and plucked up trees by their roots, troubled the waters of clear
fountains, slew shepherds, destroyed their flocks, fired the sheepfolds,
overthrew houses, trailed mares after him, and committed a hundred thousand
other insolences, worthy of eternal fame and memory. And although I mean not
to imitate Roldan, or Orlando, or Rowland (for he had all these names),
exactly in every mad prank that he played, yet will I do it the best I can in
those things which shall seem unto me most essential. And perhaps I may rest
contented with the only imitation of Amadis, who, without endamaging, and by
his ravings, and only using these of feeling laments, [arrived] to as great
fame thereby as anyone whatsoever.`
`I believe,` replied Sancho, `that the knights which performed the like
penances were moved by some reasons to do the like austerities and follies;
but, good sir, what occasion hath been offered unto you to become mad? What
lady hath disdained you? Or what arguments have you found that the Lady
Dulcinea of Toboso hath ever dallied with Moor or Christian?` `There is the
point,` answered our knight, `and therein consists the perfection of mine
affairs; for that a knight - errant do run mad upon any just occasion deserves
neither praise nor thanks; the wit is in waxing mad without cause, whereby my
mistress may understand, that if dry I could do this, what would I have done
being watered? How much more, seeing I have a just motive, through the prolix
absence that I have made from my ever supremest Lady Dulcinea of Toboso? For,
as thou mightest have heard read in Marias Ambrosio his Shepherd, -
"To him that absent is,
All things succeed amiss."
So that, friend Sancho, I would not have thee lavish time longer in advising
to let slip so rare, so happy, and singular an imitation. I am mad, and will
be mad, until thou return again with answer upon a letter, which I mean to
send with thee to my Lady Dulcinea; and if it be such as my loyalty deserves,
my madness and penance shall end; but if the contrary, I shall run mad in
good earnest, and be in that state that I shall apprehend nor feel anything.
So that, howsoever I be answered, I shall issue out of the conflict and pain
wherein thou leavest me, by joying the good thou shalt bring me, as wise; or
not feeling the evil thou shalt denounce, as mad. But tell me, Sancho keepest
thou charily yet the helmet of Mambrino, which I saw thee take up from the
ground the other day, when that ungrateful fellow thought to have broken it
into pieces, but could not, by which may be collected the excellent temper
thereof?`
Sancho answered to this demand, saying, `I cannot suffer or bear longer,
sir Knight of the Ill - favoured Face, nor take patiently many things which
you say; and I begin to suspect, by your words, that all that which you have
said to me of chivalry, and of gaining kingdoms and empires, of bestowing
islands and other gifts and great things, as knights - errant are wont, are
all matters of air and lies, all cozenage or cozening, or how else you please
to term it; for he that shall hear you name a barber`s basin Mambrino`s
helmet, and that you will not abandon that error in more than four days, what
other can he think but that he who affirms such a thing doth want wit and
discretion? I carry the basin in my bag, all battered and bored, and will have
it mended, and dress my beard in it at home, if God shall do me the favour
that I may one day see my wife and bairns.`
`Behold, Sancho,` quoth Don Quixote, `I do likewise swear that thou hast
the shallowest pate that ever any squire had or hath in the world. Is it
possible that, in all the time thou hast gone with me, thou couldst not
perceive that all the adventures of knights - errant do appear chimeras,
follies, and desperate things, being quite contrary? Not that they are indeed
such; but rather, by reason that we are still haunted by a crew of enchanters,
which change and transform our acts, making them seem what they please,
according as they like to favour or annoy us; and so this, which seems to thee
a barber`s basin, is in my conceit Mambrino his helmet, and to another will
appear in some other shape. And it is doubtlessly done by the profound science
of the wise man my friend, to make that seem a basin which, really and truly,
is Mambrino`s helmet; because that, in being so precious a jewel, all the
world would pursue me to deprive me of it; but now, seeing that it is so like
a barber`s basin, they endeavour not to gain it, as was clearly showed in him
that thought to break it the other day, and would not carry it with him, but
left it lying behind him on the ground; for, in faith, he had never left it
did he know the worthiness thereof. Keep it, friend; for I need it not at this
present, wherein I must rather disarm myself of the arms I wear, and remain as
naked as I was at the hour of my birth, if I shall take the humour rather to
imitate Orlando in doing of my penance than Amadis.`
Whilst thus he discoursed, he arrived to the foot of a lofty mountain,
which stood like a hewn rock divided from all the rest, by the skirt whereof
glided a smooth river, hemmed in on every side by a green and flourishing
meadow, whose verdure did marvelously delight the greedy beholding eye; there
were in it also many wild trees, and some plants and flowers, which rendered
the place much more pleasing. The Knight of the Ill - favoured Face made
choice of this place to accomplish therein his penance; and therefore, as soon
as he had viewed it, he began to say, with a loud voice, like a distracted
man, these words ensuing: `This is the place where the humour of mine eyes
shall increase the liquid veins of this crystal current, and my continual and
deep sighs shall give perpetual motion to the leaves of these mountainy trees,
in testimony of the pain which my oppressed heart doth suffer. O you,
whosoever you be, rustical gods! which have your mansion in this inhabitable
place, give ear to the plaints of this unfortunate lover, whom a long absence
and a few imagined suspicions have conducted to deplore his state among these
deserts, and make him exclaim on the rough condition of that ingrate and fair,
who is the top, the sun, the period, term, and end of all human beauty. O ye
Napeas and Dryads! which do wontedly inhabit the thickets and groves, so may
the nimble and lascivious satyrs, by whom (although in vain) you are beloved,
never have power to interrupt your sweet rest, as you shall assist me to
lament my disasters, or at least attend them, whilst I dolefully breathe them.
O Dulcinea of Toboso! the day of my night, the glory of my pain, north of my
travels, and star of my fortunes; so Heaven enrich thee with the highest,
whensoever thou shalt demand it, as thou wilt consider the place and pass unto
which thine absence hath conducted me, and answer my faith and desires in
compassionate and gracious manner. O solitary trees (which shall from
henceforward keep company with my solitude), give tokens, with the soft motion
of your boughs, that my presence doth not dislike you. O thou my squire, and
grateful companion in all prosperous and adverse successes! bear well away
what thou shalt see me do here, to the end that thou mayst after promptly
recount it as the total cause of my ruin.` And, saying so, he alighted from
Rozinante, and, taking off in a trice his bridle and saddle, he struck him on
the buttock, saying, `He gives thee liberty that wants it himself, O horse! as
famous for thy works as thou art unfortunate by thy fates. Go where thou
pleasest; for thou bearest written in thy forehead, how that neither the
Hippogriff of Astolpho, nor the renowned Frontino, which cost Bradamante so
dearly, could compare with thee for swiftness.`
When Sancho had viewed and heard his lord speak thus, he likewise said,
`Good betide him that freed us from the pains of unpannelling the grey ass;
for if he were here, in faith, he should also have two or three claps on the
buttocks, and a short oration in his praise. Yet if he were here, I would not
permit any other to unpannel him, seeing there was no occasion why; for he,
good beast, was nothing subject to the passions of love or despair, no more
than I, who was his master when it pleased God. And, in good sooth, sir Knight
of the Ill - favoured Face, if my departure and your madness be in good
earnest, it will be needful to saddle Rozinante again, that he may supply the
want of mine ass; for it will shorten the time of my departure and return
again. And if I make my voyage afoot, I know not when I shall arrive there, or
return here back unto you; for, in good earnest, I am very ill footman.`
`Let it be as thou likest,` quoth Don Quixote; `for thy design
displeaseth me nothing; and therefore I resolve that thou shalt depart from
hence after three days; for in the mean space thou shalt behold what I will do
and say for my lady`s sake, to the end thou mayst tell it to her.` Why,` quoth
Sancho, `what more I can view than that which I have seen already?" `Thou art
altogether wide of the matter,` answered Don Quixote; `for I must yet tear
mine apparel, throw away mine armour, and beat my head about these rocks, with
many other things of that kind that will strike thee into admiration.` `Let me
beseech you,` quoth Sancho, `see well how you give yourself those knocks about
the rocks; for you might happen upon some one so ungracious a rock, as at the
first rap would dissolve all the whole machina of your adventures and penance;
and, therefore, I would be of opinion, seeing that you do hold it necessary
that some knocks be given with the head, and that this enterprise cannot be
accomplished without them, that you content yourself, seeing that all is but
feigned, counterfeited, and a jest, - that you should, I say, content yourself
with striking it on the water, or on some other soft thing, as cotton or wool,
and leave to my charge the exaggeration thereof; for I will tell to my lady
that you strike your head against the point of a rock which was harder than a
diamond.`
`I thank thee, Sancho, for thy good will,` quoth Don Quixote; `but I can
assure thee that all these things which I do are no jests, but very serious
earnests; for otherwise we should transgress the statutes of chivalry, which
command us not to avouch any untruth, on pain of relapse; and to do one thing
for another is as much as to lie. So that my head - knocks must be true, firm,
and sound ones, without any sophistical or fantastical shadow: and it will be
requisite that you leave me some lint to cure me, seeing that fortune hath
deprived us of the balsam which we lost.` `It was worse to have lost the ass,`
quoth Sancho, `seeing that at once, with him, we have lost our lint and all
our other provision; and I entreat you most earnestly not to name again that
accursed drink; for in only hearing it mentioned, you not only turn my guts in
me, but also my soul. And I request you, moreover, to make account that the
terms of three days is already expired, wherein you would have me take notice
of your follies; for I declare them already for seen, and will tell wonders to
my lady: wherefore, go write your letter, and despatch me with all haste; for
I long already to return, and take you out of this purgatory wherein I leave
you.`
`Dost thou call it a purgatory, Sancho?` quoth Don Quixote. `Thou hadst
done better hadst thou called it hell; or rather worse, if there be anything
worse than that.` `I call it so,` quoth Sancho; `"Quia in inferno nulla est
retentio," as I have heard say.`
`I understand not,` said Don Quixote, `what retentio meaneth.`
`Retentio,` quoth Sancho, `is that, whosoever is in hell, never comes, nor can
come, out of it. Which shall fall out contrary in your person, or my feet
shall go ill, if I may carry spurs to quicken Rozinante, and that I may safely
arrive before my Lady Dulcinea in Toboso; for I will recount unto her such
strange things of your follies and madness (for they be all one) that you
have, and do daily, as I will make her as soft as a glove, although I found
her at the first harder than a cork - tree; with whose sweet and honey answer
I will return in the air as speedily as a witch, and take you out of this
purgatory, which is no hell, although it seems one, seeing there is hope to
escape from it; which, as I have said, they want which are in hell; and I
believe you will not contradict me herein.`
`Thou hast reason,` answered the Knight of the Ill - favoured Face; `but
how shall I write the letter? `And the warrant for the receipt of the colts
also?` added Sancho. `All shall be inserted together,` quoth Don Quixote; `and
seeing we have no paper, we may do well, imitating the ancient men of times
past, to write our mind in the leaves of trees or wax; yet wax is as hard to
be found here as paper. But, now that I remember myself, I know where we may
write our mind well, and more than well, to wit, in Cardenio`s tablets, and
thou shalt have care to cause the letters to be written out again fairly, in
the first village wherein thou shalt find a schoolmaster; or, if such a one be
wanting, by the clerk of the church; and beware in any sort that thou give it
not to a notary or court - clerk to be copied, for they write such an
entangling, confounded process letter, as Satan himself would scarce to be
able to read it.` `And how shall we do for want of your name and
subscription?` quoth Sancho. `Why,` answered Don Quixote, `Amadis was never
wont to subscribe to his letters.` `Ay, but the warrant to receive the three
asses must forcibly be subsigned; and if it should afterward be copied, they
would say the former is false, and so I shall rest without my colts.` `The
warrant shall be written and affirmed with my hand in the tablets, which, as
soon as my niece shall see, she shall make no difficulty to deliver thee them.
And as concerning the love - letter, thou shalt put this subscription to it,
"Yours until death, the Knight of the Ill - favoured Face." And it makes no
matter though it be written by any stranger; forasmuch as I can remember
Dulcinea can neither write nor read, nor hath she seen any letter, no, not so
much as a character of my writing all the days of her life; for my love and
hers have been ever Platonical, never extending themselves further than to an
honest regard and view the one of the other, and even this same so rarely, as
I dare boldly swear, that in these dozen years which I love her more dearly
than the light of these mine eyes, which the earth shall one day devour, I
have not seen her four times, and perhaps of those same four times she hath
scarce perceived once that I beheld her - such is the care and closeness
wherewithal her parents, Lorenzo Corcuelo and her mother Aldonza Nogales, have
brought her up.` `Ta, ta,` quoth Sancho, `that the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is
Lorenzo Corcuelo his daughter, called by another name Aldonza Lorenzo?` `The
same is she,` quoth Don Quixote, `and it is she that merits to be empress of
the vast universe.` `I know her very well,` replied Sancho, `and I dare say
that she can throw an iron bar as well as any the strongest lad in our parish.
I vow, by the giver, that `tis a wench of the mark, tall and stout, and so
sturdy withal, that she will bring her chin out of the mire, in despite of any
knight - errant, or that shall err, that shall honour her as his lady. Out
upon her! what a strength and voice she hath! I saw her on a day stand on the
top of the church - steeple, to call certain servants of her father`s, that
laboured in a fallow field; and although they were half a league from thence,
they heard her as well as if they were at the foot of the steeple. And the
best that is in her is that she is nothing coy; for she hath a very great
smack of courtship, and plays with every one, and gibes and jests at them all.
And now I affirm, sir Knight of the Ill - favoured Face, that not only you may
and ought to commit raving follies for her sake, but eke you may, with just
title, also despair and hang yourself; for none shall hear thereof but will
say you did very well, although the devil carried you away. And fain would I
be gone, if it were for nothing else but to see her; for it is many a day
since I saw her, and I am sure she is changed by this; for women`s beauty is
much impaired by going always to the field, exposed to the sun and weather.
And I will now, sir Don Quixote, confess a truth unto you, that I have lived
until now in a marvellous error, thinking well and faithfully that the Lady
Dulcinea was some great princess, on whom you were enamoured, or such a person
as merited those rich presents which you bestowed on her, as well of the
Biscaine as of the slaves, and many others, that ought to be, as I suppose,
correspondent to the many victories which you have gained, both now and in the
time that I was not your squire. But, pondering well the matter, I cannot
conceive why the Lady Aldonza Lorenzo - I mean the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso, of
these should care whether these vanquished men which you send, or shall send,
do go and kneel before her; for it may befall that she, at the very time of
their arrival, be combing of flax or threshing in the barn, whereat they would
be ashamed, and she likewise laugh, and be somewhat displeased at the
present.`
`I have oft told thee, Sancho, many times, that thou art too great a
prattler,` quoth Don Quixote, `and although thou hast but a gross wit, yet now
and then thy frumps nip; but, to the end thou mayst perceive the faultiness of
thy brain, and my discretion, I will tell thee a short history, which is this:
There was once a widow, fair, young, free, rich, and withal very pleasant and
jocund, that fell in love with a certain round and well - set servant of a
college. His regent came to understand it, and therefore said on a day to the
widow, by the way of fraternal correction, "Mistress, I do greatly marvel, and
not without occasion, that a woman so principal, so beautiful, so rich, and
specially so witty, could make so ill a choice, as to wax enamoured on so
foul, so base, and foolish a man as such a one, we having in this house so
many masters of art, graduates, and divines, amongst whom you might have made
choice as among pears, saying, I will take this, and I will not have that."
But she answered him thus, with a very pleasant and good grace: "You are, sir,
greatly deceived, if you deem that I have made an ill choice in such a one,
let him seem never so great a fool; for, to the purpose that I mean to use
him, he knows as much or rather more philosophy than Aristotle." And so,
Sancho, is likewise Dulcinea of Toboso as much worth as the highest princess
of the world, for the effect I mean to use her. For all the poets which
celebrate certain ladies at pleasure, thinkest thou that they all had
mistresses? No. Dost thou believe that the Amaryllises, the Phyllises,
Silvias, Dianas, Galateas, Alcidas, and others such like, wherewithal the
books, ditties, barbers` shops, and theatres are filled, were truly ladies of
flesh and bones, and their mistresses which have and do celebrate them thus?
No, certainly; but were for the greater part feigned, to serve as a subject of
their verses, to the end the authors might be accounted amorous, and men of
courage enough to be such. And thus it is also sufficient for me to believe
and think that the good Aldonza Lorenzo is fair and honest. As for her
parentage, it matters but little; for none will send to take information
thereof, to give her an habit; and I make account of her as of the greatest
princess in the world. For thou oughtest to know, Sancho, if thou knowest it
not already, that two things alone incite men to love more than all things
else, and those be, surpassing beauty and a good name. And both these things
are found in Dulcinea in her prime; for none can equal her in fairness, and
few come near her for a good report. And, for a final conclusion, I imagine
that all that which I say is really so, without adding or taking aught away.
And I do imagine her, in my fantasy, to be such as I could wish her as well in
beauty as principality, and neither can Helen approach, nor Lucrece come near
her; no, nor any of those other famous women, Greek, Barbarous, or Latin, of
foregoing ages. And let every one say what he pleaseth; for though I should be
reprehended for this by the ignorant, yet shall I not, therefore, be chastised
by the more observant and rigorous sort of men.`
`I avouch,` quoth Sancho, `that you have great reason in all that you
say, and that I am myself a very ass - but, alas! why do I name an ass with my
mouth, seeing one should not mention, a rope in one`s house that was hanged?
But give me the letter, and farewell; for I will change.` With that, Don
Quixote drew out his tablets, and, going aside, began to indite his letter
with great gravity; which ended, he called Sancho to read it to him, to the
end he might bear it away in memory, lest by chance he did lose the tablets on
the way; for such were his cross fortunes, as made him fear every event. To
which Sancho answered, saying, `Write it there twice or thrice in the book,
and give me it after; for I will carry it safely, by God`s grace. For to think
that I will be able ever to take it by rote is a great folly; for my memory is
so short as I do many times forget mine own name. But yet, for all that, read
it to me, good sir; for I would be glad to hear it, as a thing which I suppose
to be as excellent as if it were cast in a mould.` Hear it, then,` said Don
Quixote; `for thus it says:
`The Letter Of Don Quixote To Dulcinea Of Toboso
`Sovereign Lady, - The wounded by the point of absence, and the hurt by
the darts of thy heart, sweetest Dulcinea of Toboso! doth send thee that
health which he wanteth himself. If thy beauty disdain me, if thy valour turn
not to my benefit, if thy disdains convert themselves to my harm, maugre all
my patience, I shall be ill able to sustain this care; which, besides that it
is violent, is also too durable. My good squire Sancho will give thee certain
relation, O beautiful ingrate, and my dearest beloved enemy! of the state
wherein I remain for thy sake. If thou please to favour me, I am thine; and if
not, do what thou likest: for, by ending of my life, I shall both satisfy thy
cruelty and my desires. - Thine until death,
`The Knight of the Ill - favoured Face.`
`By my father`s life, quoth Sancho, when he heard the letter, `it is the
highest thing that ever I heard. Good God! how well do you say everything in
it! and how excellently have you applied the subscription of "The Knight of
the Ill - favoured Face!" I say again, in good earnest, that you are the devil
himself, and there`s nothing but you know it.` `All is necessary,` answered
Don Quixote, `for the office that I profess.` `Put, then,` quote Sancho, `in
the other side of that leaf, the warrant of three colts, and firm it with a
legible letter that they may know it at the first sight.` `I am pleased,` said
Don Quixote. And so, writing it, he read it after to Sancho; and it said thus:
`You shall please, good niece, for this first of colts, to deliver unto
my squire Sancho Panza, three of the five that I left at home, and are in your
charge; the which three colts I command to be delivered to him, for as many
others counted and received here; for with this, and his acquittance, they
shall be justly delivered. Given in the bowels of Sierra Morena, the two - and
- twentieth of August, of this present year -.`
`It goes very well,` quoth Sancho; `subsign it, therefore, I pray you.`
`It needs no seal,` quoth Don Quixote, `but only my rubric, which is as
valuable as if it were subscribed not only for three asses, but also for three
hundred.` `My trust is in you,` answered Sancho; `permit me, for I will go
saddle Rozinante, and prepare yourself to give me your blessing; for I purpose
presently to depart, before I see any mad prank of yours; for I will say that
I saw you play so many, as no more can be desired.` `I will have thee stay,
Sancho (and that because it is requisite), at least to see me stark naked;
playing a dozen or two of raving tricks; for I will despatch them in less than
half an hour; because that thou, having viewed them with thine own eyes, mayst
safely swear all the rest that thou pleasest to add; and I assure thee that
thou canst not tell so many as I mean to perform.` `Let me entreat you, good
sir, that I may not see you naked; for it will turn my stomach, and I shall
not be able to keep myself from weeping; and my head is yet so sore since
yesternight, through my lamentations for the loss of the grey beast, as I am
not strong enough yet to endure new plaints. But, if your pleasure be such as
I must necessarily see some follies, do them, in Jove`s name, in your clothes
briefly, and such as are most necessary; chiefly, seeing none of these things
are requisite for me. And, as I have said, we might excuse time (that shall
now be lavished in these trifles) to return speedily with the news you desire
and deserve so much. And if not, let the Lady Dulcinea provide herself well;
for if she answer not according to reason, I make a solemn vow to him that I
may, that I`ll make her disgorge out of her stomach a good answer, with very
kicks and fists; for how can it be suffered that so famous a knight - errant
as yourself should thus run out of his wits, without, nor for what, for one -
Let not the gentlewoman constrain me to say the rest; for I will out with it,
and venture all upon twelve, although it never were sold.`
`In good faith, Sancho,` quoth Don Quixote, "I think thou art grown as
mad as myself,` `I am not so mad,` replied Sancho, `but I am more choleric.
But, setting that aside, say, what will you eat until my return? Do you mean
to do as Cardenio, and take by the highway`s side perforce from the
shepherds?` `Care thou not for that,` replied Don Quixote; `for although I had
it, yet would I not eat any other thing than the herbs and fruits that this
field and trees do yield; for the perfection of mine affair consists in
fasting, and the exercise of other castigations.` To this Sancho replied: `Do
you know what I fear? that I shall not find the way to you again here where I
leave you, it is so difficult and obscure.` `Take well the marks, and I will
endeavour to keep here about,` quoth Don Quixote, until thou come back again;
and will, moreover, about the time of thy return, mount to the tops of these
high rocks, to see whether thou appearest. But thou shouldst do best of all,
to the end thou mayst not stay and miss me, to cut down here and there certain
boughs, and strew them on the way as thou goest, until thou beest out in the
plains, and those may after serve thee as bounds and marks, by which thou
mayst again find me when thou returnest, in imitation of the clue of Theseus`
labyrinth.`
`I will do so,` quoth Sancho; and then, cutting down certain boughs, he
demanded his lord`s blessing, and departed, not without tears on both sides.
And, mounting upon Rozinante, whom Don Quixote commended very seriously to his
care, that he should tend him as he would his own person, he made on towards
the plains strewing here and there on the way his branches, as his master had
advised him; and with that departed, although his lord importuned him to
behold two or three follies ere he went away. But scarce had he gone a hundred
paces, when he returned and said, `I say, sir, that you said well that, to the
end I might swear with a safe conscience that I have seen you play these mad
tricks, it were necessary that at least I see you do one, although that of
your abode here is one great enough.`
`Did not I tell thee so?` quoth Don Quixote. `Stay Sancho, for I will do
it in the space of a creed.` And, taking off with all haste his hose, he
remained the half of him naked, and did instantly give two or three jerks in
the air, and two tumbles over and over on the ground, with his head downward,
and his legs aloft, where he discovered such things, as Sancho, because he
would not see them again, turned the bridle and rode away, resting contented
and satisfied that he might swear that his lord was mad. And so we will leave
him travelling on his way, until his return, which was very soon after.
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