The Life and Notable Adventures of that Renown'd Knight, Don Quixote De la Mancha ::

The Champion's mind not sitting right,
For want of being dubb'd a Knight,
The melancholy Thought destroy'd
His Appetite before 'twas cloy'd,
And made his Supper but the worse,
Which was at best both short and coarse.
However, when the Jilts had clear'd
The Dish, and wip'd his greasy Beard,

The Don arising from his Seat,
Cry'd, God be thank'd for what I've Eat;
And then by a commanding whistle
Call'd for the Governor o'th' Castle,
That with him he might cross the Yard,
To see how Rozinante far'd.
No sooner had the Landlord led,
His noble Guest to view his Steed,
Who grunting lay, poor founder'd Creature
On Muck, for want of fresher Litter:
But the Don locking of a sudden
The Door o'th' Stable that they stood in
Fell down upon his Knees before
His Host, upon the filthy Floor,
And on a Cusheon made of T**ds,
Address'd him in the following Words.

Most Valiant Knight who Governs all
Within this Ancient Castle Wall,
Whose Courteous Bounty has been shew'd
In costly Wines and dainty Food,

I now must beg a further Boon,
Which you must grant or I'm undone;
Nor will I rise from this soft Place,
Till you assure me of Success.

The staring Host stood much amaz'd,
To see his Noble Guest so craz'd,
And thought him down right mad at least,
To Kneel where Cows had dung'd and Pist,
Did therefore earnestly desire,
The Don to rise from out the mire,
And not pollute his Marrow-bones,
By kneeling on such filthy Stones;
But all the Landlord could devise,
Would not perswade the Don to rise,
Who, still amidst the nasty moisture,
Continu'd in a Godson's Posture,
Till by the Host his Suit was granted,
Before he knew what 'twas he wanted;
Then rising up, the joyful Don
Renew'd his Speech, and thus went on.

Most worthy Knight of high Degree,
Your Goodness speaks your Quality,
I therefore shall entreat no more
Than I may modestly emplore,
And you, when my Request you know,
With Credit to your self bestow;
The Boon that I shall now demand
By Promise, at your Generous Hand,
Is, that I may receive the Honour
Of Knighthood, from so brave a Donor,
And that to morrow Morn may be
The Day of the Solemnity.

All Night that I may be prepar'd
Your Castle Chappel will I guard,
There Watch my Armour, till the Sun
Surmounts the gilded Horizon,
Then by the Dint of Trusty Blade,
By you will I a Knight be made;
That when thus qualify'd to shew
The Wonders that this Arm can do,

I may relieve distressed Maids,
Fight Champions, cut off Monsters Heads,
Take sturdy Gyants by the Beard,
And do such Feats that ne'er were heard,
Till Poets Songs my Deeds enrol,
And spread my Fame from Pole to Pole.

The Host discerning very plain
The Don's Disorder in his Brain,
Now rightly took his Talk to be
Th' effect of downright Lunacy,
And b'ing a sharp and merry Blade,
Well fitted for the tip'ling Trade,
Resolv'd to carry on the Jest,
By humouring his frantick Guest,
So cocking by his Bacon side
An Elbow, thus the Host reply'd,

Most doubty Champion I am blest,
In such a Valiant worthy Guest,
No Man at Arms has greater Right
Than you, Sir, to be dubb'd a Knight;

None better qualify'd than he
That's skill'd in Feats of Chivalry,
Which bold Employment to my Praise,
I followed in my Youthful Days,
And rang'd the spacious World to find
Adventures Noble as my Mind:
Strange Pranks have I been us'd to play
I'th' Percheles of Malaga,
And in the Isles of Riaran,
Hug'd many a Charming Curtizan;
Within the famous Town of Sevil,
Kiss'd, kick'd and bully'd like a Devil;
Storm'd the Quicksilv'r House at Segovia,
Sinn'd thro' the Potro of Cordova;
Made many a Beauteous Damsel yield,
In the Valencian Olive Field,
Rak'd round the Circle of Granada,
Bilk'd the Hedge Taverns of Toledo,
Unrig'd upon St Lucar's Wharf
The Stroling Punks of Hood and Scarf;

Liv'd upon Widows, Wives, and such
That by the Bye would take a Touch;
Bubbl'd young Heirs at Cards and Dice,
And fought 'em if they made a Noise,
Till grown a famous Gladiator,
In all the Courts of Judicature.
Thus having got my self a Name,
Much dreaded wheresoe'er I came,
Then to this Castle I retir'd,
T'enjoy the Wealth I had acquir'd;
And here I live and make Provision
For Errant Knights of all Condition.
To shew the Honour and Regard
I bear to Worthies of the Sword,
And also to partake of what
They by their Valiant Deeds have got,
That ev'ry Courteous Brother Knight,
My civil usage may requite,
And shew his Love to me his Brother,
As one good turn requires another.

But now, says he, I must confess,
There's one mischance you cannot guess,
That is, my Chappel's not in plight
To watch your Armour in this Night;
For being shatter'd by the Rage
Of Storms, and much impair'd by Age,
I raz'd it level with the Floor,
To build it finer than before.
So that it now in Rubbish lies,
From whence e'er long to th' World's surprize
Another Phœnix shall arise.

Therefore, says he, Right Worthy Sir,
You no Dishonour will incur,
If you should chuse another Place,
In so Necessitous a Case.
The Court-yard, now the Nights grow warmer,
May suit the Vigil of your Armour,
'Twill fit your Worship to a Hair,
What signifies a little Air,

Now Madam Luna shines so bright,
And adds such pleasure to the Night,
That you your Lance and Shield may handle,
Without the Light of Lamp or Candle,
And watch your Armour with your Eyes,
By the bright Lustre of the Skies:

But by the way there is one Query,
Which at this time seems necessary,
I hope your noble Worship's Pockets
Are lin'd with current Crowns and Duckets,
And that i'th' Morning you'll be free
To pay th' accustomary Fee
Of Honour, due to Errant Brothers,
For giving Knighthood unto others.

With that the Champion search'd his Britches,
And fumbl'd, but could find no Riches;
At length reply'd, he had no Money,
Adding, 'twas needless to have any;
For that he never found in Writing
That Cavaliers who Rid a Knighting,

E'er carry'd Pounds or Crowns about 'em,
But always liv'd like Kings without 'em;
Could feast their Guts and wet their whistles
In fine enchanted Caves and Castles,
Where Beauteous Dames should smiling sit,
And bid 'em welcome to their Meat;
Whilst Virgins at their Backs should wait,
To hand 'em Wine in Bowls of Plate;
So that he thought all Coyn but Dross,
And therefore had not brought a Cross.

This made the Landlord scratch a while,
Who yet could not forbear to smile,
Altho' his Ends were disappointed,
And his own Project quite disjointed:
However, finding the delirious
Champion of Knighthood so desirous,
He still resolv'd to please the Don,
And cary' the Humour further on;
But first he rack'd his crafty Wits,
To shew his Guest, that Errant Knights

As well as those of courser Mold.
Made use of Silver and of Gold,

For tho', says he, we do not Read
That Errant Knights had any need
Of Money, Cordials, Salves or Plaisters,
In case of Wounds or such Disasters;
Or of clean Linen to refresh 'em,
If Gyant Rumbolo should thrash 'em,
And make 'em sweat in the Defence
Of some fair Lady's Innocence;
Yet still none Travels but he carries
Such useful common Necessaries,
That if he should in fight sustain
A Wound, he might relieve his Pain,
Or drop a loose unsav'ry flirt,
Should soil the Lappit of his Shirt,
He might remove the warm Perfume,
That sticks so close unto his Bum,
And wrap his poor polluted Label
In Linen, clean and comfortable;

Therefore, that Knight's equipp'd by halves
Who 'as neither Money, Shirts or Salves,
And must be very oft Distrest,
Unless he happens to be Blest
With some Magician for a Friend,
Who can by Art of Magick send
A Dwarf or Damsel in a Cloud,
With Drams and Balsams for his Good,
Or with a Bottle or a Noggin
Of Aqua Tetrachimagogon,
That, tho' his Bones are ne'er so baisted,
Will cure the Knight as soon as tasted.

But otherwise, in Times of Yore,
The Knights took always care to store
Their Squires with all things that were wholesome,
As Money, Linnen, Lint and Balsam,
That in their Snapsacks they might carry
Whate'er was truly Necessary
To dress their Wounds, and to supply
Their wants, when Hungry or a Dry.

But if it was a Knight's desire
To range the World without a 'Squire,
Then in a little Bag behind,
Most neatly to his Saddle join'd,
Himself cary'd all that might Commode
His Worship on the dusty Road,
Well buckl'd down with Straps of Leather,
And thought it no dishonour neither.

Therefore since you desire to be
My Noble Son in Chivalry,
I charge you for the time to come,
When e'er you sally out from Home,
That you take special Care to be
Well stock'd with what I've mention'd t'ye,
But above all, besure you line
Your Bags or Pockets well with Coyn,
If that one thing should be forgot,
The rest won't signify a Groat;
'Tis all in all, the only Talent
That makes a Champion Wise and Valiant;

Therefore I charge you o'er and o'er
That you ne'er mount or wander more,
Fight, Squabble, Scuffle, Eat or Drink,
Abroad, without the ready Chink.

The Don convinc'd he now should be
Confirm'd a Knight in Errantry,
Gave his Left Breast a sudden blow,
And did in Solemn manner vow
Obedience to the whole Command,
Then from his Heart withdrew his Hand,
And did the Ceremony End
With an obsequious humble bend.

The Don now full of Joy prepar'd
His Armour for the open Yard,
And fearing neither Wind or Weather,
Laid all his Trumpery together;
Then, Porter like, convey'd his Case
Of Iron, to th' appointed Place,
Where stood between a Pump and Sink
A Trough where Horses us'd to Drink.

The Don conceiving this to be
A very great Conveniency,
In the Stone Coffin did Intomb
His jointed Steel, which just had room,
And as at length 'twas nicely laid,
Look'd like a Corps without a Head,
For still the Helmet was upon
The frantick Noddle of the Don,
Who was resolv'd his Head should dwell
A Pris'ner in its Iron Jayl,
Rather than cut the Silken Pride
With which his stubborn Cap was ty'd.

The Champion now brac'd on his Shield,
And did his Lance most nicely wield,
As, at a little distance off
The Pump, he mov'd to watch the Trough;
No Bell-man at a Banker's Door,
That walks to guard the Wealthy Oar,
Could put a Sterner Visage on,
Or Strut more proudly than the Don.

The Host had now forsook his Guest,
To laugh within Doors at the Jest,
And tell the merry Tale to those
That sat carousing in the House,
Who presently came out in Clusters,
As if to see a Horse crack Oysters;
And at a distance, by the Light
O'th' Moon, beheld the pleasing sight;
Whilst the grave Centry strutted round
The Trough, upon the self same Ground,
And walk'd about in mighty State,
Like any Midnight Magistrate;
Sometimes he'd stop and pause a Minute,
As if his Head had something in it,
Then leaning forward on his Hands,
Supported by his upright Lance,
Would on his Armour fix his Eyes,
And think as if profoundly Wise.

At length a sturdy Lout, a Carrier,
Who fear'd no Errant-Knight or Warriour,

Wanted to fill the Trough with Water,
That he might bring his Mules to't a'ter:
Accordingly he bluntly went
To th' Pump to make good his intent;
But the Don storming in a huff,
To see the Clown approach the Trough,
Advanc'd his Lance, but thus he spoke
In Wrath, before he struck a stroke.

O bold Presumptious Knight, who e'er
Thou art that rudely dar'st prepare,
To lay thy Hands upon the bright
Unsully'd Arms I watch this Night,
Take heed, I say, how you approach,
Or with unhallow'd Fingers Touch
The Armour that belongs unto
The bravest Knight that ever drew;
Stand off, return from whence you came,
Provoke me not into a Flame,
Lest instant Death the end should be
Of thy Robust Temerity.

'Nouns who are you, crys surly Hob,
D'ye think I fear your spiked Club,
I say my Mules shall Drink in spite
Of you, for all you are a Knight,
What's this, I tro, what have we here,
Steel Harness for a Cavalier:
So rashly catching hold thereof,
He tost the Armour out the Trough,
And had no sooner seiz'd upon
The Pump, and made the Water run,
But the fierce Champion, in a storm,
Let slip his Target from his Arm,
And turning up his wishful Eyes,
With great Devotion tow'rds the Skies,
He cry'd aloud, thou charming Maid,
Dulcinea, Bless me with thy Aid,
That for the Honour of Tobosa,
I may subdue this Furioso,
And in this first Adventure shew,
My Love and Valour both are true,

Then raising up his Trusty Lance
Above his Head, with both his Hands
He gave the poor unwary Clown,
Be damn'd a knock upon the Crown,
That had the Carrier been a Horse,
He could not have withstood his Force,
But must have fall'n upon his Rump,
By sudden dint of mortal thump.

When thus with one successful thwack,
He'ad laid the Carrier on his Back,
Without the least Concern he left
The sprawling Clown of Sense bereft,
And gravely gather'd from the Dirt
His Arms, as if he'ad done no hurt,
Then calmly to the Trough restor'd 'em,
And as before walk'd by to guard 'em,
Finding no more the fatal knock,
He'ad given the Carrier on his Block,
Than if he'ad crush'd a silly Mouse,
Or with his Thumb-nail crack'd a Louse,

Tho' very near depriv'd of Breath,
And gasping lay 'twixt Life and Death,
Thus do the Brave despise the Foe
That they can conquer with a Blow.

No sooner had our mighty Warriour,
Obtain'd this Victory o'er the Carrier,
And free from either Fear or Passion,
Return'd unto his watchful Station;
But a new Foe approach'd the Trough,
A second Carrier, Stern and Gruff,
Who little knew alas! how hard
His Brother Jobbernole had far'd,
And wanting only like the first,
To bring his Mules to quench their Thirst
He boldly went about to clean
The Trough, that he might pump therein
And taking hold of what he found,
To lug it out upon the Ground,
The Don renewing of his Passion,
Without a Word of Invocation,

Drop'd down his Target to be ready,
Forgetting his Tobosa Lady,
And with his Lance so laid about
The Noddle of the Country Lout,
That e'ery stroke did Execution,
By deep Incision or Contusion.

The Carrier scar'd at the Attack,
Roar'd like a Bull at e'ery Thwack,
And cry'd out Murder, when he found
His Comrade gasping on the Ground,
Which outcry soon alarm'd the Inn,
And brought out all that were within:
Amongst the rest the Host appear'd,
All much surpriz'd at what they'd heard,
Moving together in close Order,
To find who 'twas that cry'd out Murder.

The Don perceiving this Batall'on,
Just ready, as he thought, to fall on,
And taking them at first to be
All chosen Knights of Errantry,

Brac'd on his Shield with Expedition,
Most gravely offe'ring with Submission
To his dear Dulci, this Petition.

Thou Queen of Beauty whose bright Charms
Inspir'd me first to take up Arms,
Thy kind Assistance I invoke,
O give me now a Heart of Oak,
That thy Advent'rous Knight may prove,
At once his Valour and his Love,
Enable 'm with thy distant Eyes,
To struggle with this great Surprize,
And conquer this puissant Army,
Of Scoundrel Slaves that now alarm me.

Then drawing his Tremendous Sword
He put himself upon his Guard,
Believing now no Foot or Horse
Was able to withstand his force,
And that if Fifty Warriours more,
Came on with their United Power;

Droncanso like he could have Slain
Them all, and not have spar'd a Man.

The Muliteers being much provok'd,
Their Friends should be so roughly stroak'd;
But yet, not daring to come near
A Foe that did so fierce appear;
They pick'd up Stones to their Assistance,
And made their Onset at a distance;
Giving the Don such Knocks and Thumps,
That put him sadly to his Trumps,
Because he durst not make a Sally
Upon the Croud that gave the Volley,
For fear the Foe should snatch away
His Arms that in the Horse-Trough lay.
The Host now labour'd to divert,
The Clownish Mob from doing hurt,
Declaring that the Man they Pelted,
Was Mad, and should not be Assaulted,
Left in his Fury he should do
Some Mischief that themselves might rue,

For that in Case his Trusty Steel,
Should Chop 'em down from Head to Heel.
No Law would Punish his Offences,
Because he was not in his Senses.

The Champion who maintain'd his Post,
Byth' Moon distinguishing his Host,
So busy in the Boist'rous Croud,
To him and them, Cry'd out aloud.

O Base Inhospitable Wretch!
To thus disturb me in my Watch,
And Treat me in so Rude a Fashion,
Amidst my Solemn Preparation;
Durst I but from my Armour part,
My Trusty Blade should make thee Smart;
This Sturdy Arm and Nut brown Sword,
Should thy vile Perfidy Reward,
And Cleave thy Costern by this Light,
Had I but first been made a Knight.

But for you Ignominious Rabble,
Pelt on as long as you are able;

Advance, draw nearer if you durst;
That I may lay you by the first,
And give you the return that's due
To such a Scoundrel Herd as you.

This threatning, tho but short Oration,
He Spoke with so much Indignation,
That each Bold Sentence struck a Terrour
The ery Clownish Dastard hearer,
So that for Fear, and partly thro'
The Landlords mild Perswasions too,
They stoop'd no more to gather Stones,
But gladly made a Truce at once;
The Don (that Wars might have an ending)
In his Side franckly Condescending,
That they in Peace should carry off
Their Wounded Comrades from the Trough,
And they on their Side should no more,
Molest him till his Watch was o'er;
So both Sides parted with content,
And in a Doors the Carriers went,

100

Leaving the Grave, Victorious Don
To finish what he had begun.
Thus, when Men foolishly fall out,
And scarce can tell what 'tis about,
If one Side's Mad and does despise
All Danger, to'ther soon complies.

101

CANTO VI.

The Manner of the Don's b'ing Knighted,
And how his Landlord was requited;
How the Bold Knight departed thence
In Peace without a Groat Expence.

The Host beginning now to vex
At the Don's Mad unruly Tricks,
Resolv'd before he slept to Knight him,
In hopes he then would bid God b'wit 'im,
That's Customers might Drink in quiet
Without the fear of further Riot;
To th' Don accordingly he went,
And made this welcome Compliment.

Right Worthy Sir, it gives me Trouble,
To think a Man so truly Noble,

102

Should be attack'd by Clowns within
My Castle Walls as you have been,
And so Affronted by a Crew
Of Scoundrels not a Match for you:
But be assur'd their great Offence,
Committed with such Insolence,
Was done without my Approbation,
And was alone their own Transgression;
Truly deserving that severe
Correction which you gave 'em here:
Therefore since you've so bravely shewn,
Your Valour by the Light o'th' Moon,
And Beat so Bold a Rabble off,
Wh' Attack'd your Armour in the Trough,
You've well deserv'd, and may Command
The Hon'r of Knighthood out of Hand;
And since my Chappel as I said,
Quite Level with the Ground is laid,
I think if here we do perform
The Rites, it can be no great harm,

103

Now you have Watch'd your Coat of Mail,
Four Hours, when Two had done as well.

The Don extreamly pleas'd to hear
His Time of Knighhood was so near,
Reply'd, Ill bend to what you say,
And gladly your Commands obey;
The greater am I Blest, the sooner
You Dub your Servant with that Honour;
For were I once but made a Knight,
Methinks I could so boldly Fight,
That should the Rude provoking Crew,
Rally as they perhaps may do,
I should not spare one daring Vassal,
Of all the Force within your Castle,
Less I should save, at your Request,
Some chosen Friend that is your Guest;
For tho' enrag'd, yet your Command
Should stop the Fury of my Hand,
And move your Servant to forgive,
Ev'n those that scarce deserve to live.

104

The Landlord fearing all his Sport,
At length might Terminate in hurt,
And that the Champion and the Carriers,
Should Fight again like sturdy Warriours,
Resolv'd on speedily dispatching,
The Knight without his further watching.
Accordingly in Doors he stept,
And fetch'd a Book wherein he kept,
His Inn Accompts of Oats and Hay,
Receiv'd and measur'd out each Day;
To improve the Solemn Sham the better,
And make the Comedy the greater,
He brought the Lasses who before,
The Don had Sup'd with at the Door,
That the Two Wanton Jades might be,
A Grace to the Solemnity:
A Lusty Youth 'twixt Boy and Man,
With lighted Candle led the Van,
And thus they march'd with great Decorum,
To Knight the Don that waited for 'em,

105

As soon as they approach'd the Trough,
The Champion standing not far off,
The Landlord thus begun the Farce,
And Cry'd, Kneel down, thou Son of Mars,
That endless Honour may be done thee,
And Knighthood be conferr'd upon thee.
The Joyful Heroe out of Hand
Obey'd the Governour's Command,
And on the Cockling dirty Stones
Stoop'd down upon his Marrow-Bones.
The Landlord now a Mumbling made
Oe'r his Accounts as if he Read,
And drawing forth his Trusty Spado,
Which was a Rusty old Toledo,
H'adapted Words to the Occasion,
That pass'd for a Devout Oraison;
Turning his Eyes into the Air,
Like any Whore at Ev'ning Pray'r,
Feigning a Countenance as Pious,
As any Quaking Ananias,

106

And so dissembl'd, that his Guest
In solemn manner bore the Jest:
At length he lifted up that hand
Which did the sturdy Steel command,
And laid the tough old stubborn Blade
So hard upon the Champion's Head,
That bent his Helmet to his Crown,
And almost knock'd his Worship down;
Then lifting up his Sword soon after
He smote his Back a little softer,
Expressing loud some quaint Oration
That pass'd for Words of Consecration,
Then order'd one attending Lass,
Whose Face had oft been rubb'd with Brass
To girt the Sword about the Knight,
Who still was in a Kneeling plight.
Accordingly the Merry Gipsy,
With Wine and Brandy almost Tipsy,
In solemnwise kneel'd down in haste,
And ty'd the Weapon to his Waste,

107

Being forc'd to bite her Lips the while,
For fear they should betray a Smile;
Whilst she was busy just above
The hidden Label of his Love,
To fasten on his Belt before
Yet nothing could provoke the poor
Dumb Thing that hung a little low'r.

As thus the Mercenary odd-piece
Was fumbling near the Champion's Cod-piece,
To shew her Breeding and her Sense,
He made the Knight these Compliments,
I humbly wish your Doubty Worship
Good Luck in Combat and in Courtship,
May neither Armour, Sword or Steed,
Or any thing in time of Need,
E'er fail you, but be always ready
To Cope with either Knight or Lady;
For pity 'tis so brave a Blade
Should e'er be foil'd by Man or Maid.

108

Don Quixote smitten with the Dame
Most humbly begged the Lady's Name,
That he might know to what dear Creature
He was oblig'd for such good Nature,
Who had not only buckl'd on
His Sword, and other Service done,
But was so kind in her Expression
On this his Solemn Consecration.

The Lady, as the Champion thought her,
Told him She was a Coblers Daughter,
That her Name truly was Toloso,
And tho her Circumstance but so so,
She no Occasion had to be
Asham'd of Name or Pedigree,
For though her Friends liv'd by the Awl
And in Toledo kept a Stall,
Yet were they counted, she was sure,
Good Honest People, tho but Poor;
And truly, that herself, altho
She was in Quality but low,

109

Yet she was wholsome Flesh and Blood,
And, tho she said it, had as good
A Countenance, and Skin as white,
And other Things for Man's delight,
As those fine Dames that Men admire,
Who hold their Heads a great deal higher;
Adding, that she'd be glad to do
What e'er he should command her to,
And without Wages never grumble
To be his Worship's very humble.
The Knight upon his Honour bent,
Not heeding what the Strumpet meant,
Conceiting still she was a Maid
Of Virtue, tho an arrant Jade,
Only implor'd her for the Time
To come, in due respect to him
She had attended at his Knighting,
With Virgin Beauty so inviting,
That she would add unto her Name
A Title that might raise her Fame,

110

And stile herself for ever after
Donna Toloso, Eldest Daughter
To Don Coblerio of Toledo,
Descended of the Fam'd Quevedo.

My Lady smilingly reply'd
That Favour should not be deny'd,
Nor any thing that could delight
So worthy and so brave a Knight.

But all the Proffers of her Whoreship
Could not excite his frozen Worship
To take her forward Hints, or move
The Crazy Knight to think of Love;
For thirst of Glory crampt his Courting,
And put him by all thoughts of sporting.

The other Harlot full as kind
Was fixing on his Spurs behind,
And taking pains with pointed Steel
To arm the kneeling Champion's Heel,
Who still did Penance on his Knees,
And never flinch'd for want of Ease;

111

But with grave Patience and Content
Thro' all the Ceremony went;
Which shews what Struggle Pride will make
With hard Fatigues for Honour's sake.

The Knight now finding t'other Huzzy
About his Heels so very busy,
Did also very greatly long
To know from whence this Lady sprung,
So that his Questions were the same
To her as to the other Dame.

The Jilt, who like her Sister Trull,
Of Confidence b'ing brimming full,
Reply'd, the Name that she was known by
Was Miller, which she'd always gone by,
And that it also was the Trade
To which her Parents had been bred,
Who tho they had no Wealth, yet were a
Good Family in Anqteuera,
That scorn'd like other Knaves to steal
Five Pecks out of a Strike of Meal,

112

And that she durst to pawn her Soul
They never stopt more than honest Toll;
Adding, that if they'd took Extortion
They might have given their Child a Portion,
And not have only left their Daughter
A little Mill 'twixt Wind and Water,
Which his kind Worship by and by
Might find a good One if he'd try.

The sober thoughtful Knight not minding
What twas she meant, being past his grinding,
Instead of answ'ring what the Jill
Had said concerning of her Mill,
Return'd this Compliment upon her,
As if she'd been a Maid of Honour.

Madam, said he, Altho by Birth
You're not a Lady, yet the worth
And sweetness of so fair a Creature
Has made you doubly so by Nature,
Besides, as you've attended me
In this devout Solemnity;

113

For ever after 'tis your Duty
To add some Title to your Beauty,
That for your Service you may be
Distinguish'd as high Quality.
No matter tho' your Birth be mean,
At Princes Courts 'tis daily seen,
That Landresses and Chambermaids
From washing Smocks and making Beds,
For Secret Service Rise to be
The very top of Quality;
Therefore I beg, since you have won me
With those good Offices you've done me,
That for my sake you'll always claim
The Lady Miller as your Name,
And if that any durst dispute
Your Honour, how you came unto't,
This Arm at all times shall be ready
To justify your Claim to Lady.

The merry Crack, who rather wanted
To be well treated and gallanted,

114

Drop'd a Tail compliment however,
And kindly thank'd him for his Favour.

The Host, as well as all the rest,
B'ing now quite weary of the Jest,
Cry'd out aloud, Rise up, Sir Knight,
And for distressed Ladies Fight:
The Champion full of Life and Joy,
Sprung up as nimbly as a Boy,
Tho almost Crippl'd in the Hams,
Beneath their Ceremonious Shams,
His Posture having numb'd his Toes
And Feet, as if they had been Froze;
However, leaning on a Post,
He made this Speech unto his Host;
Right Worthy Governor and Knight,
And Lord of these Two Ladies bright,
Who by the Light of yonder Moon
Have thus adopted me your Son,
In Gratitude I'm highly bound
To own the Favours I have found,

115

And thank you for the welcome Cheer
That in Distress I met with here;
But above all, for that great Honour,
Of which you've been the Gen'rous Donor:
So that I now beg leave to go
Where I my Valiant Strength may show,
And for the sake of these Fair Ladies,
I'll Fight Orlando or Amadis.
The Host reply'd, with all his Heart,
Crying, The dearest Friends must part;
So gladly stepping to the Stable,
As nimbly as his Legs were able,
He rous'd the Courser from his Rest,
And clapping Saddle on the Beast,
He brought forth hopping Rozinante
From little Hay, and Oats more scanty,
Who groan'd and sigh'd, poor founder'd Steed
For want of Sleep as well as Feed.
No sooner had the Landlord brought
The Horse, but up the Champion got;

116

Then bowing o'er and o'er again,
As low as Rozinante's Mane,
He thank'd the Damsels for their Favour
And all their Lady-like Bevaviours,
Profess'd himself an humble Vassal
To th' Gen'rous Lord that kept the Castle,
So took his leave in Solemn manner,
And Gallop'd off with his new Honour
Leaving what e'er he had to pay,
Till the next time he came that way.
The Host being glad on any Terms
To send him packing with his Arms,
E'en let him march without the least
Attempt to stop the Man or Beast,
And wisely thought a friendly farewell
Was Ten times better than a Quarrel,
With one whose fighting was his Pride
Stark mad and Money-less beside.
Thus those who by their hair-brain'd Fancies,
And wild Conceits Eclipse their Senses,

117

With Ease and Pleasure boldly run
Those Risques that sober Mortals shun.

CANTO VII.

The Knight, in order to provide
Clean Shirs and Salves, does homewards Ride;
Saves by the way a Boy from Slaughter,
Who soon had cause to curse him a'ter.

Avrora Goddess of the Morning,
In Blushing haste was now returning,
And all the Nymphs and Swains began
To leave their Bowers for the Plain,
When Quixote sally'd from the Inn,
Where he so well receiv'd had been,
In quest of some Adventure new,
Wherein he might his Valour shew,

118

And do some worthy Deed of Fame,
To Crown his Knighthood and his Name;
But as poor Rozinante beat
The dusty Road, with founder'd Feet,
And now and then fell down upon
His Knees, beneath the pensive Don:
The Champion growing now more Wise,
Was mindful of the good advice
He had receiv'd not long before,
From the kind gen'rous Governor,
Concerning Money and clean Shirts,
And Salves in case of Maims and Hurts:
At length considering that these
Might much contribute to his Ease,
And that his Station did require
The Service of some Trusty 'Squire,
The Knight resolv'd upon returning
To his own House that very Morning,
That he with speed might furnish'd be
With what became his Quality.

119

Accordingly he turn'd his Horse,
And Homewards chang'd his wandring Course,
Which gave such Life to Rozinante,
That tho' his Age was almost Twenty,
He trotted back like any Colt,
Without a Stumble or a Halt:
The Knight still thinking who should be
His sturdy 'Squire in Errantry,
At last, recalled to mind a Rustick,
Who was both Hardy and Robustick,
A lusty Looby, who had got
A Wife, and many Barns God-wot,
Who long had been his Worship's Neighbours.
All living poorly by their Labours,
By this stout Champion he depended
To be most manfully attended;
Who tho' both Lean and very Tall,
Was Nimble, and so brisk withal,

120

That he had Races often run,
And many Foot-ball Matches won;
Could toss or catch a Ball at Cricket,
And guard with Bandy-bat the Wicket
This was the Champion that the Don
Resolv'd in thought to pitch upon,
As one deserving to receive
The Honour he had Pow'r to give;
That in good time he might provide
The better for his Brats and Bride,
When, next the Knight, he should Command,
As Viceroy, some new Conquer'd Land,
Or fine Enchanted Castle won
From the fam'd Emp'ror of the Moon.
But as he thus was ruminating,
And many weighty Points debating
Within himself, he chanc'd to hear
A hidious out-cry very near;
The Knight determining the Noise
To be some injur'd Lady's Voice,

121

Arising from a little Wood,
Or lonely Thicket near the Road.
O'erjoy'd, much rather than dismay'd,
Thus to himself the Champion said;

Thanks to the lucky Stars of Heaven,
Here's now a kind occasion given,
Wherein 'tis likely I may crown
My Knighthood early with Renown,
In rescuing some beauteous Lass,
From sturdy Gyant's foul embrace,
Or Maid distress'd, from Dragon's Claws,
Or some worse Monster's greedy Jaws.
With that he made his Courser feel
The Fury of his armed Heel,
And fled as fast as e'er he cou'd,
From out the Road into the Wood;
Where, soon as enter'd, he espy'd
A Mare that to an Oak was ty'd,
And to another Tree hard by,
The Youth that made the hideous Cry

122

Was bound unmercifully fast,
And strip'd stark naked to his Waste,
Roaring aloud in this disaster,
Whilst drub'd by him that was his Master,
A gruff ill-natur'd Country Clown,
Who with a tough old Leathern Zone,
Strap'd him about from side to side,
And had no Mercy on his Hide,
Crying at ev'ry stroke he gave,
I'll teach you how to sleep, you Knave,
Keep your Mouth shut, and your Eyes open,
And then, you Dog, no Loss can happen.
The Boy for Mercy pray'd, and swore
And vow'd he'd never do so more:
But still the Master would not lose
His time, but follow'd Blows with Blows.
Which cruel and unchristian Sight
So rais'd the Fury of the Knight,
That in a fierce surprising Tone,
He thus reprov'd the angry Clown:

123

Who'd plac'd a Hop-Pole by the side
O'th' Tree to which his Mare was ty'd:

Discurteous Knight, at my Command,
With-hold thy base ungen'rous Hand,
Oppress not youthful Innocence
That's bound and cannot make defence;
So fair a Skin as you expose
To such inhumane Stripes and Blows,
Seems not of manly Mold, but rather
Some Virgin stolen from her Father;
Perhaps some Prince's only Daughter,
That you first beat to ravish a'ter;
Therefore, I say, bestride thy Steed,
And grasp thy stubborn Lance with speed,
That I may right that harmless Maid,
Whom thou hast injur'd and betray'd,
Or, Dastard, by this Morning Light,
I'll brand thee for a cow'rdly Knight.

The Farmer sore aghast to see
So fierce a Champion Cap-a-pe,

124

Reply'd, confus'dly in a fright,
Adsheartly wounds, I'm not a Knight,
Nor is that Rogue, and please you Sir,
A Lady, but an idle Cur,
An arch unlucky Bird I keep
To watch my Cattle and my Sheep,
Who either sleeps or runs to play,
And daily leaves my Flocks to stray;
Therefore, since now I've catch'd him at it,
And drub'd his Hide, instead of Jacket,
He swears I only use him thus,
Because I'm old and covetous,
In hopes to make him run away,
That I may cheat him of his Pay,
Tho', as I live, the Rogue's so base,
He lyes in ev'ry Word he says.

Cries Quixote, he that gives the Lye
Before a Knight, deserves to dye;
Such Language, whensoe'er it's spoke,
Calls loudly for a stabbing Stroke,

125

That did it not drop out by chance,
I'd surely pierce thee with my Lance;
Therefore this Moment loose the Creature
That thou hast beat with such Ill-nature,
Or will I instantly dissever
Thy Body and thy Soul for ever.

The Clown who fear'd an ugly Fray,
Not knowing what to think or say,
Held down his Noddle, and was glad,
Forthwith to loose the Naked Lad,
Fearing refusal might provoke
The Knight to give a hasty Stroke,
That might at once annoy him more
Than he had plagu'd the Boy before.
Thus fear of Danger soon supprest
The Anger in the Farmer's Breast,
And made him, with a nimble Hand,
Obey the fiery Knight's Command.

The punish'd Lad b'ing now unbound,
The Don with pity view'd him round,

126

And shook his awful Head to see
The Wheals and Marks of Cruelty:
Then screwing up as sowre a Phiz,
As a stern Judge at an Assize,
How much, says he, Young-man, is due
From your Old Gaffer unto you,
Tell me the Truth, and, e're he goes,
I'll make him pay you what he owes.

The Boy reply'd, He owes me, Sir,
Full Nine Months Wages, if not more,
And Seven Reals ev'ry Moon,
Was what we both agreed upon.

The Knight, a Dab at Computation,
After a short Deliberation,
I find by Algebra, says he,
That makes the Sum of Sixty-three,
Which, vice versa, does contain
Just nine times Sev'n, or sev'n times Nine,
And measur'd by the Sun's career,
Makes the grand Climacterick Year.

127

Therefore, says he unto the Farmer,
I charge thee, by my Sword and Armour,
That, Varlet, instantly you draw
Your Misers Pouch, and pay the Boy,
Or, by my Knighthood, will I use thee
Dog-like, and drub thee till I lose thee.

‘Pray, good your Worship, cries the Gaffer,
First hear what I'm about to offer,
That idle Rascal, you espouse,
Is a sad Rogue, the Parish knows;
Nor can there be a Priest or Fryar,
In Spain, that is a greater Lyar.
What have I said! forgive my Mouth!
I mean a Rogue that ne'er speaks truth.
I owe him not, I'll plainly shew,
One half of what he says I do,
Three Pair of Shooes, the Scoundrel knows,
I've bought him for his mangy Toes;
Twice also have I paid for Bleeding,
When surfeited with over-feeding;

128

‘And other things, which ought to be
‘Deducted from his Sallary.

No, no, I'll not allow a Dort,
Replies the Arbitrary Knight,
As for the Leather he'as destroy'd,
You've fetch'd as much from off his Hide;
Therefore I think it is but fair,
That you should put the Foot o'th' Hare
Against the Giblets of the Goose,
And not abate the Boy a Sous:
Then as for what you paid the Surgeon,
By Men of Learning call'd Chirurgeon,
Your self, against the Rules of Art,
In Health, have bled him to his Smart,
Not with a Lancet, as those shou'd,
That mean to do a Patient good,
But with a stubborn Thong of Leather,
So that put that and that together;
And nothing, I affirm, amounts,
As due to you on those Accounts:

129

Therefore, I say, discharge the Youth,
Else will I spit thee in at Mouth;
And lest thou canst thyself defend
I'll run thee thro' at t'other end,
And bear thee on my Lance away,
To my dear Fair Dulcinea.

‘And please your Worship (cries the Peasant)
My Pockets are unlin'd at present,
I beg your Worship be not rash,
I seldom carry so much Cash
About me, as will pay him off.
I own, at Home I have enough,
And there I promise and consent
To pay him to his Heart's content;
But here, where 'tis not to be had,
Your Worship knows it can't be paid.

I, quoth the Boy, go home! not I,
I know his Tricks; I'll sooner dy.
Indeed Sir, when he gets me thither,
Then out again comes Thong of Leather:

130

And if your Worship now shou'd leave me
Unpaid, that's all he means to give me.
Indeed, Sir, he's a sad old Cuff,
The Neighbours know him well enough.
He never took a friendly farewel
Of Man or Maid without a Quarrel:
Nor does he ever care to draw
His Purse-strings till he's forc'd by Law;
And when he does, the Country knows,
'Tis ne'er without ill Words or Blows:
Therefore unless you make him pay,
Before your Worship rides away,
Indeed, upon my Faith, Sir Knight,
By that time you are out of sight,
He'll only thwack and thump my Hide,
But pay me not a Groat beside.

‘He will not dare (reply'd the Don)
‘To disobey me, tho' I'm gone;
‘First he shall swear, as he's a Knight,
‘To truly pay thee ev'ry Doit,

131

And then thou may'st be well assur'd,
He will not dare to break his Word.

Lord, Sir, my Master, cries the Boy,
In troth's no more a Knight than I,
His Name is John Haldudo, Sir,
The rich old Cuff of Quintanar,
A Country Farmer bred and born,
That deals in Cattel and in Corn,
A Miser that will skin a Flint,
In case there be but Profit in't.

‘That's nothing, (gravely quoth the Don)
Honour may be conferr'd upon
A Man of Merit, tho' he be
By Birth of humble Pedigree;
Therefore a brave Haldudo may
Be dubb'd a Knight, why not I pray?
Besides, too often Honour flows
By Favour, just as Kissing goes:
But the Brave Man, that heeds no Pelf
Is a true Herald to himself

132

‘Of his own Works, the Eldest Son,
‘That Heirs the Fame his Deeds have won.

But, Sir, quoth Andrew, pray what Worth
Can that old Hug-a-Bag set forth,
Who in his Passions and Outrages,
Gives me hard Stripes instead of Wages?

‘Prithee, good Andrew (cries the Master)
(Who stood in fear of some Disaster)
‘Go Home, and by this picked Beard on,
‘And all the Knighthoods ever heard on,
‘I swear I'll pay thee out of hand,
‘The utmost Groat thou canst demand.

'Tis fairly promis'd, quoth the Don,
Besure you give him what's his own;
For should I hear that you have broken
Your Oath, and bate the Boy one Token,
By my Sword, Armour, and my Horse,
I'll punish thee with Death, or worse;
For know I am the valiant Knight,
Don Quixote de la Mancha hight,

133

The Righter of ignoble Wrongs,
And Punisher of saucy Tongues;
The Ladies Champion, who redresses
Their daily Suff'rings and Distresses;
The Cavalier that bids defiance
To all Fell-Monsters, Rogues and Gyants;
Therefore besure perform thy Word,
Or thou shalt feel my trusty Sword.

This said the Hero spurr'd his Horse,
Turn'd off, and homewards steer'd his Course,
Leaving the Farmer and his Boy,
One full of Fear, the other Joy;
But as the Youth foretold the Don,
No sooner was the Champion gone
Both out of hearing and of sight,
But the old Knave, to vent his Spite,
Coax'd the poor Lad, till he had got
Fast hold of both his Skin and Coat,
And gave him such a second Banging,
That, for the time, was worse than hanging,

134

Crying, I'll teach you how to Lye,
And tell your Tale to Comers by;
Now call your doubty Knight, your Hog
In Armour, you confounded Dog,
I'll pay you, Sirrah, what I owe
With Int'rest, e're I let you go.

Thus the poor Boy was forc'd to take
His Wages on his naked Back,
Having sufficient Cause to curse
The Knight, for whom he far'd the worse.
Till Fortune proving kind at last,
The Girdle broke that bound him fast,
And so poor Andrew, being cunning,
Sav'd some Arrears by dint of running.
Thus he that does appear too fervent,
'Twixt a vex'd Master and his Servant,
Like busy Fool 'twixt Man and Wife,
Abates not, but foments the Strife.

135

CANTO VIII.

The Knight's return to fetch clean Shirts,
And Salves, in case of Maims and Hurts;
His woful Suff'rings in a Fray,
He chanc'd to meet with by the way.

The Knight conceiting he had won
Much Fame by th' Justice he had done
Between the Farmer and his Boy,
Now trotted homewards full of Joy,
The Beast expressing, like his Master,
Much chearfulness in jogging Faster,
That truly 'twas no easy matter
For the most prying Observator,
To judge who felt the greatest force
Of Joy, the Champion or his Horse;

136

The one b'ing very much delighted,
To think how timely he'd been Knighted;
The other with his Journey back,
To his old Stable and his Rack,
Where he for many Years had led
A lazy Life, and oft been fed.
At length the Knight b'ing over-run
With the proud Thoughts of what he'd done,
As he jog'd on upon his Beast,
Thus his dear Dulci he address'd,
With Love and Honour in his Breast.

O thou most beautiful of Beauties!
I kiss the shadow of thy Shooe-ties,
And only seek to raise thy Name
The highest in the Rolls of Fame.
Well may'st thou deem thyself to be
The Fairest and the Happy'st she,
Whose Charms Divine can make so brave
A Knight as me thy Captive Slave;

137

Who tho' I was but dubb'd last Night,
My pale Diana's silver Light,
Yet have I done a Deed this Day,
Which humbly at your Feet I lay,
That ne'er was yet perform'd by Man,
Since ancient Knighthood first began;
The greatest Wrong have I redrest,
That e'er was done by Man or Beast,
And rescu'd from a Tyrant's Rage,
In Infant of a tender Age;
And stop'd the cruel Hand that whip'd
Poor Innocence when naked strip'd;
And would have surely flead'd him a'ter,
As God Apollo did the Satyr.

Before the Knight had fully ended
The noble Speech that he intended,
He chanc'd to come unto a Place
Where the Road split four sev'ral ways,
And having read that Knights were us'd,
In such a Case, to be confus'd,

138

For half an Hour he stop'd his Horse,
And study'd how to steer his Course;
At length he thought the wisest way
Was on his Prancer's Neck to lay
The Reins, and let the Beast decide
Which was the lucki'st Road to ride,
Who, without Boggle, run a Head,
That Way which tow'rds his Stable lead,
And scowr'd as if he'd smelt or seen
The distant Hay-loft or the Bin.
Just so the Fortunate, by chance,
Step right, and do themselves advance,
Whilst others, full as wise as they,
But not so lucky, miss the Way.

Don Quixote scarce two Miles had got,
Upon a round uneasy Trot,
Within the Lane, the poor dumb Creature
Had chosen by instinct of Nature,
But he beheld a distant Croud
Of Mortals on the dusty Road,

139

Six Spanish Merchants, Mules bestriding,
Four Servants upon Gennets riding,
Three Muleteers, who lamely beat
The drowthy Ground with batter'd Feet,
All from Toledo bound to Murcia,
To buy up Silks that came from Persia.
No sooner had the Valiant Knight
Beheld this unexpected sight,
But he began to bless the Day
For this Adventure in his Way,
Believing it would prove to be
As he had read in Errantry,
Some Accident wherein he might
Advance his Glory to that hight,
That no Renown should ever claim,
A Zenith equal with his Fame.
By such fantastick Hopes inspir'd,
His Breast with Courage soon was fir'd,
That now he warily prepar'd
To stoutly stand upon his Guard,

140

Sate himself firmly in his Seat,
And in his Stirrups fix'd his Feet,
His Target for his Safety plac'd
In ample Order, at his Breast,
Then couching his tremendous Lance,
He waited for the Foes advance,
And in this threatning Posture stood
I'th' middle of the dusty Road,
That Rooks and Jack-daws shun'd the Knight,
And fled with Terror from his sight.

At length the Travellers came up,
But wisely made a distant stop,
And with faint Hearts and doubtful Eyes,
Beheld the Knight, to their surprize;
Some who his scaly Hide perceiv'd,
Cry'd, 'twas a Dragon they believ'd,
Taking his Lance to be his Sting,
And each bright Arm to be a Wing;
Others, more given to Superstition,
Averr'd it was some dreadful Vision,

141

That threaten'd, by its angry Motion,
The Christian Church with Persecution;
The rest conceited 'twas some Evil
Infernal Monster, or the Devil,
Or Ghost of Chiron the Centaur,
Whom they had read of long before,
Because they could distinguish plain,
Twas one half Horse, the other Man:
But finding that the Scare-crow kept
His Ground, the Merchants forward stept,
Till humane Voice could reach the Ear
Of either side, they were so near.
The Knight perceiving that the Foe
Took Courage, and did bolder grow,
In haughty Tone, and Words as proud,
Thus spoke to the approaching Croud.

Let all Mankind at my Command,
No further pass this way, but stand,
Till they confess, affirm, and swear,
By all the solemn Ties that are,

142

That the bright Ladies they pretend
To Love, to Honour, and Defend,
Are but dull Stars that shine but so-so,
Compar'd to Dulci del Tobosa,
That Queen of all the Beauteous Train,
Whose Empire I alone maintain.

No sooner had the Merchants heard
This Speech, but they no longer fear'd;
And smiling at their past surprize,
Thought him some Madman in disguise,
Who being by Ill-fortune crost
In Love, had all his Senses lost.
So that to better understand
The meaning of his high Demand,
He that was thought to be the best
Improver of so odd a Jest,
And was most furnish'd with Discretion,
To manage the Capitulation,
Was by the rest, in their defence,
Appointed for the Conference;

143

Accordingly he bow'd his Head,
And this evasive Answer made.

Most worthy and renowned Knight,
We come to Treat, and not to Fight;
Nor do we only Honour you,
But that fair Queen you talk of too:
Yet how, alas, can we confess
She's brightest of the Female Race,
Or say and swear that she alone
Has Title unto Beauty's Throne,
Before we've had the pleasing sight,
Of those sweet Charms that are so bright?
No Mortal can sincerely vow
The Truth of what he does not know;
How then can we in Justice swear,
The Dame we never saw is Fair?
No awful Judge, with rev'rend Beard,
Decides a Cause before 'tis heard:
How then can you expect that we,
In solemn manner, should agree

144

To own your Lady to be Queen
Of Beauties, till her Charms are seen.

‘Should I (reply'd the angry Knight)
‘Expose her Beauty to your sight,
‘'Twould be no Wonder then for you
‘To own what you're convinc'd is true:
‘You should believe upon my Honour,
‘The Praise that I bestow upon her,
‘Or 'tis my Duty you must know it,
‘By dint of Sword to force you to it;
‘Therefore confess, affirm, and swear,
‘That she alone's the brightest Fair;
‘Or else prepare to give me Battle,
‘For Words are all but Tittle-Tattle;
‘Therefore come on, discurteous Crew,
‘By one and one, as Knights should do,
‘According to the Rules we see
‘In the old Laws of Chivalry;
‘Or altogether rudely join'd,
‘Like cow'rdly Slaves undisciplin'd,

145

That never trod in Honour's Field,
In Battle and in Arms unskill'd:
Come all, I say, and I'll depend
On my just Cause to stand my Friend.

Pray, worthy good Sir Knight, reply'd
The Spokesman on the Merchants side,
I humbly beg you, for the sake
Of all these Princes at my Back,
That you'll regard the inward ease
Of all our tender Consciences,
And for the Honour of those Queens
That reign in the Alcarian Plains,
And Empresses that bear the sway
Ith' Fields of Estramadura,
That you'd vouchsafe to let us see
The Picture or Epitome
Of the Fair Maid you love so well,
Tho' 'tis no broader than my Nail;
For Art is able to express
Much Beauty in a little Piece;

146

Then shall we all be satisfy'd,
And lay our Scruples quite aside,
And, after one judicious view,
Affirm what now we cannot do.

Nay, all, I find, as well as I,
Are so inclining to comply,
Provided you would shew her Face
In paint, or in a Magick Glass,
That tho' her Nose should be defective,
By being over kind and active;
Or should she prove a sore-ey'd Gillion,
That wept both Brimstone and Vermillion,
We're Men of Breeding, and more Honour,
Than to reflect small Faults upon her;
But shall pass by a blemish'd Feature
That's wrong'd by chance, and not by Nature,
And all agree to think her Fair,
And vow what e'er you'd have us swear.

‘Brimstone, Vermillion, (quoth the Knight)
‘Ye Scoundrel Slaves prepare to fight,

147

I'd have you know she ne'er distils
From Eyes, or any Feature else,
Such Filth, or any thing, unless
Tis Civet, Musk, or Ambergrese;
Her Eyes, I'd have you know, are bright,
And shine like Diamonds in the Night;
Her Mein most graceful, and her Waste
A perfect Spindle when she's lac'd.
Know therefore, ye provoking Rabble,
That this victorious Arm is able
To vindicate my lovely Dutchess,
Against your blasphemous Reproaches;
Nor shall you part unpunish'd hence,
Till you've recanted your Offence.
With that he grin'd and spurr'd his Horse,
Couch'd Lance, and with his utmost force,
Rid on full Tilt, to be the Death
Of him that had provok'd his Wrath,
But Fortune stepping in between
Most timely stop'd the bloody Scene,

148

And in poor Rozinante's Way
Did such a dirty Hillock lay,
That down he came, Arse over Head,
And almost laid the Knight for dead,
Who struggl'd hard upon the Ground,
And in the Dust rowl'd round and round,
But could not raise himself to guard
Against that Danger now he fear'd:
However, tho' the weight of Iron,
That did his Raw-bon'd Corps environ,
And Bruises in his Hips and Thighs,
Made him unable to arise;
Yet the poor Knight, whose heart was strong,
As in the Dust he laid along,
Thus play'd the Hero with his Tongue.

Stay, Cowards, Rascals, do not fly,
I shall be with you by and by,
'Tis not my Fear, or yet your Force,
That have o'erthrown me, but my Horse:

149

Let me but Mount, and you shall see
I'll soon revenge this Injury.

These Bugbear Words the Champion spoke,
At a bad time, did so provoke
A Merchant's Groom, ill-will'd enough
To lend the Don a Kick and Cuff,
That he attack'd the sprawling Knight,
First broke his Lance, to shew his Spite,
Then taking up that end thereof
Which he believ'd was Armour-proof,
Did on his Shoulders and his Breech
Return such Answers to his Speech,
That made, at ev'ry stubborn thwack,
His yielding Armour bruise his Back:
But still the Knight, in a Bravado,
Bore with such Grace the Bastinado,
That he ne'er flinch'd, cry'd out, or mourn'd,
Or beg'd for Mercy, but return'd,
In valiant Words, each painful Blow,
Receiv'd from his ignoble Foe.

150

Thus he that's Brave will ne'er lament
Those Suff'rings that he can't prevent,
But by his Patience still defeat
The Victor's Malice, tho' he's beat.

At length the Merchant rating off
His Groom, by crying 'twas enough;
Who now b'ing weary of the Pains
He'd taken for so little Gains,
Was glad, upon his Master's calling,
To leave the beaten Bugbear sprawling,
Giving the Champion, as he lay
Half dead in the unlucky Fray,
A parting Blow upon his Chest,
That vex'd him more than all the rest:
Which being done, they left the Knight
Bedung'd, in very woful plight.

The Don much bruis'd in Front and Rear,
Now seeing that the Coast was clear,
Made many faint Essays, in vain,
To raise his Carcass up again,

151

But finding Nature had not force,
As yet, to rise and mount his Horse,
Stretching his Limbs, lock'd up in Rust,
For Ease, upon his Bed of Dust,
Upon his Arm he lean'd his Head,
And thus unto himself he said:

Such cross Adventures and Exploits,
Alas! are common to us Knights,
Fortune's not always in the way,
But will sometimes from Valour stray.
Besides, tho' I am overthrown,
The dastard Foe is fled and gone:
Nor could their Usage make me yield,
Tho' wounded, I have kept the Field;
Therefore, altho' my Hopes were crost,
My Knighthood has no Honour lost;
For the base Scoundrels plainly see
The Fault was in my Horse, not me.

Thus the maim'd Knight reflecting lay,
Upon the past unhappy Fray,

152

Hoping to gather Strength in time,
With Rozinante grazing by'm.

When Pride and Ign'rance jointly aim
At Glory, they come off with Shame;
And hair-brain'd Fools, that run at all,
For want of Forecast, often fall.

The End of the Second Part.

University of Virginia Library

II. Part II.

CANTO V.

CANTO VI.

CANTO VII.

CANTO VIII.