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The Fourth BookChapter XVI.
Chapter XVI.
Wherein Is Recounted the History of the Lackey, with Other Strange Adventures
Befallen in the Inn
`I am a mariner to love,
Which in his depths profound
Still sails, and yet no hope can prove
Of coming aye to th` ground.
`I following go a glist`ring star,
Which I aloof descry,
Much more resplendent than those are
That Palinure did spy.
`I know not where my course to bend,
And so confusedly,
To see it only I pretend
Careful and carelessly.
`Her too impertinent regard,
And too much modesty,
The clouds are which mine eyes have barred
From their deserved fee.
`O clear and soul - reviving star!
Whose sight doth try my trust,
If thou thy light from me debar,
Instantly die I must.`
The singer arriving to this point of his song, Dorothea imagined that it
would not be amiss to let Donna Clara hear so excellent a voice, and therefore
she jogged her a little on the one and other side, until she had awaked her,
and then said, `Pardon me, child, for thus interrupting your sweet repose,
seeing I do it to the end you may joy, by hearing one of the best voices that
perhaps you ever heard in your life.` Clara awaked at the first drowsily, and
did not well understand what Dorothea said, and therefore demanding of her
what she said, she told it her again; whereupon Donna Clara was also
attentive; but scarce had she heard two verses repeated by the early musician,
when a marvellous trembling invaded her, even as if she had then suffered the
grievous fit of a quartan ague. Wherefore, embracing Dorothea very straitly,
she said, `Alas, dear lady! why did you awake me, seeing the greatest hap that
fortune could in this instant have given me, was to have mine eyes and ears so
shut as I might neither see nor hear that unfortunate musician.` `What is that
you say, child?` quoth Dorothea. `Did you not hear one say that the musician
is but a horse - boy?` `He is no horse - boy,` quoth Clara, `but a lord of
many towns, and he that hath such firm possession of my soul, as if he himself
will not reject it, he shall never be deprived of the dominion thereof.`
Dorothea greatly wondered at the passionate words of the young girl, whereby
it seemed to her that she far surpassed the discretion which so tender years
did promise, and therefore she replied to her, saying, `You speak so
obscurely, Lady Clara, as I cannot understand you; expound yourself more
clearly, and tell me what is that you say of souls and towns, and of this
musician whose voice hath altered you so much. But do not say anything to me
now, for I would not lose, by listening to your disgusts, the pleasure I take
to hear him sing; for me thinks he resumes his music with new verses, and in
another tune.` `In a good hour,` quoth Donna Clara; and then, because she
herself would not hear him, she stopped her ears with her fingers; whereat
Dorothea did also marvel, but being attentive to the music, she heard the
lackey prosecute his song in this manner:
`O sweet and constant hope,
That break`st impossibilities and briers,
And firmly runn`st the scope
Which thou thyself dost forge to thy desires!
Be not dismay`d to see
At ev`ry step thyself nigh death to be.
`Sluggards do not deserve
The glory of triumphs or victory;
Good hap doth never serve
Those which resist not fortune manfully,
But weakly fall to ground,
And in soft sloth their senses all confound.
`That love his glories hold
At a high rate, it reason is and just;
No precious stones nor gold
May be at all compared with love`s gust;
And `tis a thing most clear,
Nothing is worth esteem that cost not dear.
`An amorous persistence
Obtaineth ofttimes things impossible;
And so though I resistance
Find of my soul`s desires, in her stern will,
I hope time shall be given,
When I from earth may reach her glorious heaven.`
Here the voice ended, and Donna Clara`s sighs began; all which inflamed
Dorothea`s desire to know the cause of so sweet a song and so sad a plaint;
and therefore she eftsoons required her to tell her now what she was about to
have said before. Then Clara, timorous lest Lucinda should overhear her,
embracing Dorothea very nearly, laid her mouth so closely to Dorothea`s ear,
as she might speak securely without being understood by any other, and said,
`He that sings is, dear lady, a gentleman`s son of the kingdom of Aragon,
whose father is lord of two towns, and dwelled right before my father`s house
at the court; and although the windows of our house were in winter covered
with cere - cloth, and in summer with lattice, I know not how it happened, but
this gentleman, who went to the school, espied me; and whether it was at the
church, or elsewhere, I am not certain. Finally, he fell in love with me, and
did acquaint me with his affection from his own windows, that were opposite to
mine, with so many tokens and such abundance of tears, as I most forcibly
believed, and also affected him, without knowing how much he loved me. Among
the signs that he would make me, one was, to join the one hand to the other,
giving me thereby to understand that he would marry me; and although I would
be very glad that it might be so, yet as one alone, and without a mother, I
knew not to whom I might communicate the affair, and did therefore let it rest
without affording him any other favour, unless it were, when my father and his
were gone abroad, by lifting up the lattice or cere - cloth only a little, and
permitting him to behold me; for which favour he would show such signs of joy
as a man would deem him to be reft of his wits.
`The time of my father`s departure arriving, and he hearing of it, but
not from me (for I could never tell it to him), he fell sick, as far as I
could understand, for grief; and therefore I could never see him all the day
of our departure, to bid him farewell at least with mine eyes; but after we
had travelled two days, just as we entered into an inn in a village, a day`s
journey from hence, I saw him at the lodging door, apparelled so properly like
a lackey, as if I had not borne about me his portraiture in my soul, it had
been impossible to know him. I knew him, and wondered, and was glad withal;
and he beheld me, unwitting my father, from whose presence he still hides
himself when he crosses the ways before me as I travel, or after we arrive at
any inn. And because that I know what he is, and do consider the pains he
takes by coming thus afoot for my sake, and that with so great toil, I die for
sorrow; and where he puts his feet, I also put mine eyes. I know not with what
intention he comes, nor how he could possibly thus escape from his father, who
loves him beyond measure, both because he hath none other heir, and because
the young gentleman also deserves it, as you will perceive when you see him;
and I dare affirm besides, that all that which he says he composes extempore,
and without any study; for I have heard that he is a fine student, and a great
poet; and every time that I see him, or do hear him sing, I start and tremble
like an aspen leaf, for fear that my father should know him, and thereby come
to have notice of our mutual affections. I have never spoken one word to him
in my life, and yet I do nevertheless love him so much, as without him I shall
not be able to live. And this is all, dear lady, that I am able to say unto
you of the musician whose voice hath pleased you so well, as by it alone you
might conjecture that he is not a horse - boy, as you said, but rather a lord
of souls and towns, as I affirmed.`
`Speak no more, Lady Clara,` quoth Dorothea at that season, kissing her a
thousand times; `speak no more, I say, but have patience until it be daylight;
for I hope in God so to direct your affairs, as that they shall have the
fortunate success that so honest beginning deserves.` `Alas, madam!` quoth
Donna Clara, `what end may be expected, seeing his father is so noble and
rich, as he would scarce deem me worthy to be his son`s servant, how much less
his spouse? And for me to marry myself unknown to my father, I would not do it
for all the world. I desire no other thing but that the young gentleman would
return home again and leave me alone; perhaps by not seeing him, and the great
distance of the way which we are to travel, my pain, which now so much
presseth me, will be somewhat allayed; although I daresay that this remedy,
which now I have imagined, would avail me but little; for I know not whence
with the vengeance, or by what way this affection which I bear him got into
me, seeing both I and he are so young as we be, for I believe we are much of
an age, and I am not yet full sixteen, nor shall be, as my father says, until
Michaelmas next.` Dorothea could not contain her laughter, hearing how
childishly Donna Clara spoke; to whom she said, `Lady, let us repose again,
and sleep that little part of the night which remains; and when God sends
daylight, we will prosper, or my hands shall fail me.` With this they held
their peace, and all the inn was drowned in profound silence; only the
innkeeper`s daughter and Maritornes were not asleep, but knowing very well Don
Quixote`s peccant humour, and that he was armed and on horseback without the
inn keeping guard, both of them consorted together, and agreed to be someway
merry with him, or at least to pass over some time in hearing him speak
ravingly.
It is therefore to be understood that there was not in all the inn any
window which looked out into the field, but one hole in a barn, out of which
they were wont to cast their straw. To this hole came the two demi - damsels,
and saw Don Quixote mounted and leaning on his javelin, and breathing forth
ever and anon so doleful and deep sighs, as it seemed his soul was plucked
away by every one of them; and they noted besides how he said, with a soft and
amorous voice, `O my lady Dulcinea of Toboso! the sun of all beauty, the end
and quintessence of discretion, the treasury of sweet countenance and
carriage, the storehouse of honesty, and finally, the idea of all that which
is profitable, modest, or delightful in the world! and what might thy ladyship
be doing at this present? Hast thou perhaps thy mind now upon thy captive
knight, that most wittingly exposeth himself to so many dangers for thy sake?
Give unto me tidings of her, O thou luminary of the three faces! Peradventure
thou dost now with envy enough behold her, either walking through some gallery
of her sumptuous palaces, or leaning on some bay - window, and thinking how
(saving her honour and greatness) she shall mitigate and assuage the torture
which this mine oppressed heart endures for her love, what glory she shall
give for my pains, what quiet to my cares, what life to my death, and what
guerdon to my services. And thou, sun, which art, as I believe, by this time
saddling of thy horses to get away early and go out to see my mistress, I
request thee, as soon as thou shalt see her, so salute her in my behalf; but
beware that when thou lookest on her and dost greet her, that thou do not kiss
her on the face; for if thou dost, I become more jealous of thee than ever
thou wast of the swift ingrate which made thee to run and sweat so much
through the plains of Thessaly or the brinks of Peneus; for I have forgotten
through which of them thou rannest so jealous and enamoured.`
To this point arrived Don Quixote, when the innkeeper`s daughter began to
call him softly unto her, and say, `Sir knight, approach a little hitherward,
if you please`; at which voice Don Quixote turned his head, and saw by the
light of the moon which shined then very clearly, that he was called to from
the hole, which he accounted to be a fair window full of iron bars, and those
costly gilded with gold, well befitting so rich a castle as he imagined that
inn to be; and presently in a moment he forged to his own fancy, that once
again, as [s]he had done before, the beautiful damsel, daughter to the lady of
that castle, overcome by his love, did return to solicit him; and with this
thought, because he would not show himself discourteous and ungrateful, he
turned Rozinante about and came over to the hole; and then, having beheld the
two wenches, he said, `I take pity on you, beautiful lady, that you have
placed your amorous thoughts in a place whence it is not possible to have any
correspondence answerable to the desert of your high worth and beauty, whereof
you are in no sort to condemn this miserable knight - errant, whom love hath
wholly disabled to surrender his will to be any other than to her whom at the
first sight he made absolute mistress of his soul. Pardon me therefore, good
lady, and retire yourself to your chamber, and make me not, by any further
insinuation of your desires, more unthankful and discourteous than I would be;
and if, through the love that you bear me, you find in me any other thing
wherewithal I may serve and pleasure you, so that it be not love itself,
demand it boldly; for I do swear unto you by mine absen[t], yet sweetest
enemy, to bestow it upon you incontinently, yea, though it be a lock of
Medusa`s hairs, which are all of snakes, or the very sunbeams enclosed in a
vial of glass.`
`My lady needs none of those things, sir knight,` answered Maritornes.
`What doth she then want, discreet matron?` quoth Don Quixote. `Only one of
your fair hands,` said Maritornes, `that therewithal she may disburden herself
of some part of those violent desires which compelled her to come to this
window, with so great danger of her honour; for if her lord and father knew of
her coming, the least slice he would take off her should be at the least an
ear.` `I would fain once see that,` quoth Don Quixote; `but I am sure he will
beware how he do it, if he have no list to make the most disastrous end that
ever father made in this world, for having laid violent hands on the delicate
limbs of his amorous daughter.` Maritornes verily persuaded herself that Don
Quixote would give up his hand as he was requested, and having already
contrived in her mind what she would do, descended with all haste from the
hole, and, going into the stable, fetched out Sancho Panza his ass` halter,
and returned again with very great speed, just as Don Quixote (standing up on
Rozinante`s saddle, that he might the better reach the barred windows, whereat
he imagined the wounded damsel remained) did, stretching up his hand, say unto
her, `Hold, lady, the hand, or as I may better say, the executioner of earthly
miscreants; hold, I say, that hand, which no other woman ever touched before,
not even she herself that hath entire possession of my whole body, nor do I
give it to you to the end you should kiss it, but that you may behold the
contexture of the sinews, the knitting of the muscles, and the spaciosity and
breadth of the veins, whereby you may collect how great ought the force of
that arm to be whereunto such a hand is knit.` `We shall see that presently,`
quoth Maritornes; and then, making a running knot on the halter, she cast it
on the wrist of his hand, and then descending from the hole, she tied the
other end of the halter very fast to the lock of the barn door. Don Quixote,
feeling the roughness of the halter about his wrist, said, `It rather seems
that you grate my hand than that you cherish it; but yet I pray you not to
handle it so roughly, seeing it is no fault of the evil which my will doth
unto you; nor is it comely that you should revenge or disburden the whole bulk
of your indignation on so small a part: remember that those which love well do
not take so cruel revenge.` But nobody gave ear to these words of Don
Quixote`s; for as soon as Maritornes had tied him, she and the other, almost
burst for laughter, ran away, and left him tied in such manner as it was
impossible for him to loose himself.
He stood, as we have recounted, on Rozinante his saddle, having all his
arm thrust in at the hole, and fastened by the wrist to the lock, and was in
very doubt and fear that if Rozinante budged never so little on any side he
should fall and hang by the arm; and therefore he durst not once use the least
motion of the world, although he might well have expected, from Rozinante`s
patience and mild spirit, that if he were suffered, he would stand still a
whole age without stirring himself. In fine, Don Quixote seeing himself tied,
and that the ladies were departed, began straight to imagine that all had been
done by way of enchantment, as the last time, when in the very same castle the
enchanted Moor (the carrier) had so fairly belaboured him; and then to himself
did he execrate his own want of discretion and discourse, seeing that having
escaped out of that castle so evil dight the first time, he would after
adventure to enter into it the second; for it was generally observed by
knights - errant that when they had once tried an adventure, and could not
finish it, it was a token that it was not reserved for them, but for some
other; and therefore would never prove it again. Yet for all this he drew
forward his arm to see if he might deliver himself; but he was so well bound
as all his endeavours proved vain. It is true that he drew it very warily,
lest Rozinante should stir: and although he would fain have sat and settled
himself in the saddle, yet could he do no other but stand, or leave the arm
behind. There was many a wish for Amadis his sword, against which no
enchantment whatsoever could prevail; there succeeded the malediction of his
fates; there the exaggerating of the want that the world should have of his
presence all the while he abode enchanted (as he infallibly believed he was)
in that place; there he anew remembered his beloved Lady Dulcinea of Toboso;
there did he call oft enough on his good squire Sancho Panza, who, entombed in
the bowels of sleep, and stretched along on the pannel of his ass, did dream
at that instant but little of the mother that bore him; there he invoked the
wise men Lirgandeo and Alquife to help him. And finally, the morning did also
there overtake him so full of despair and confusion, as he roared like a bull;
for he had no hope that by daylight any cure could be found for his care,
which he deemed would be everlasting, because he fully accounted himself
enchanted; and was the more induced to think so, because he saw that Rozinante
did not move little nor much; and therefore he supposed that both he and his
horse should abide in that state without eating, drinking, or sleeping, until
that either the malignant influence of the stars were past, or some greater
enchanter had disenchanted him.
But he deceived himself much in his belief; for scarce did the day begin
to peep, when there arrived four horsemen to the inn - door, very well
appointed, and having snap - hances hanging at the pommel of their saddles.
They called at the inn - door (which yet stood shut), and knocked very hard,
which being perceived by Don Quixote, from the place where he stood sentinel,
he said, with a very loud and arrogant voice, `Knights, or squires, or
whatsoever else ye be, you are not to knock any more at the gates of that
case, seeing it is evident, that at such hours as this, either they which are
within do repose them, or else are not wont to open fortresses until Phoebus
hath spread his beams over the earth; therefore stand back, and expect till it
be clear day, and then we will see whether it be just or no that they open
their gates unto you.` `What a devil, what castle or fortress is this,` quoth
one of them, `that it should bind us to use all those circumstances? If thou
beest the innkeeper, command that the door be opened; for we are travellers
that will tarry no longer than to bait our horses and away, for we ride in
post haste.` `Doth it seem to you, gentlemen,` quoth don Quixote, `that I look
like an innkeeper?` `I know not what thou lookest like,` answered the other,
`but well I know that thou speakest madly, in calling this inn a castle.` `It
is a castle,` replied Don Quixote, `yea, and that one of the best in this
province, and it hath people within it which have had a sceptre in hand, and a
crown on their head.` `It were better said quite contrary,` replied the
traveller, `the sceptre on the head, and the crown in the hand; but perhaps
(and so it may well be) there is some company of players within, who do very
usually hold the sceptres and wear those crowns whereof thou talkest; for in
such a paltry inn as this is, and where I hear so little noise, I cannot
believe any one to be lodged worthy to wear a crown or bear a sceptre.` `Thou
knowest but little of the world,` replied Don Quixote, `seeing thou dost so
much ignore the chances that are wont to befall in chivalry.` The fellows of
him that entertained this prolix dialogue with Don Quixote waxed weary to hear
them speak idly so long together, and therefore turned again to knock with
great fury at the door, and that in such sort as they not only waked the
innkeeper, but also all the guests, and so he arose to demand their pleasure.
In the meanwhile it happened that one of the horses whereon they rode
drew near to smell Rozinante, that, melancholy and sadly, with his ears cast
down, did sustain without moving his outstreched lord; and he being indeed of
flesh and blood, although he resembled a block of wood, could not choose but
feel it, and turn to smell him again who had thus come to cherish and
entertain him; and scarce had he stirred but a thought from thence, when Don
Quixote`s feet, that were joined, slipt asunder, and, tumbling from the
saddle, had doubtlessly fallen to the ground, had he not remained hanging by
the arm; a thing that caused him to endure so much pain, as he verily believed
that either his wrist was a - cutting, or his arm a - tearing off from his
body; and he hung so near to the ground as he touched it with the tops of his
toes, all which turned to his prejudice; for, having felt the little which he
wanted to the setting of his feet wholly on the earth, he laboured and drew
all that he might to reach it; much like unto those that get the strappado,
with the condition to touch or not to touch, who are themselves a cause to
increase their own torture, by the earnestness wherewith they stretch
themselves, deceived by the hope they have to touch the ground if they can
stretch themselves but a little farther.
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