University of Virginia Library

Don Quixote's Speech to th' beauteous Daughter
Of some Great Monarch, as he thought her,
The fiery Threats and dreadful Fight
'Twixt the Biscayan and the Knight.

Don Quixote having overthrown
One Monk, the other being flown,
And routed those who, in his Fancy,
Profess'd the Art of Necromancy,
The Lady next he did approach,
And boldly stop'd her Fly-ing-Coach,
Paying this Compliment unto her,
As if he'd been about to wooe her.

Most High-born Princess, for I guess,
Your awful Self can be no less,
Know that I've set your Beauty free
From magical Captivity,
And, by my Valour and my Arms,
Dissolv'd those Necromantick Charms,
Which forc'd your Royal Person hither,
And would have carr'd you God knows whither;
But I have vanquish'd both the Wizards
Who rid before you in their Vizards,
Pronouncing Spells that might enslave you,
And draw you where they meant to have you;
Therefore that you may ken my Name,
The better to enlarge my Fame,
Know that I am the val'rous Knight
Don Quixote, who has done you right,
And sav'd your Innocence and Vertue
From hellish Fiends design'd to hurt ye:
Nor shall I, for the Service done you,
Impose the least return upon you,
Only that you with speed, this day,
Will to Tobosa make your way,
And seek out the Illustrious Fair
Dulcinea who inhabits there,
And thank her, prostrate on the Ground,
For this deliv'rance you have found
By me, her Captive Slave, whose Hand
And Heart are both at her Command,
And at whose charming Feet I lay
The Honours I have won this Day.

The Lady frighted at the sight
Of the strange Figure of the Knight,
And more astonish'd still to hear
The Nonsense that alarm'd her Ear,
For a Reply was quite to seek,
And knew not what to think or speak:
But Madam having, to attend her,
A Servant able to defend her,
A lusty Lout in Biscay born,
Well built to serve a Lady's turn,
Tho' mounted on a hireling Mule,
That was but a decrepit Tool;
However taking great Offence
At the Don's rude Impertinence,
And hearing him about to send
The Coach to his Tobosa Friend,
The bold Biscayan spurr'd his Tit,
And bore up briskly to the Knight,
Laying a rugged Hand upon
The new-vamp'd Weapon of the Don,
Expressing in a manly Passion,
The following Words of Indignation.

Thou daring Bugbear of a Knight,
Why thus do you my Lady fright,
Draw back thy mangy Scrub and ride
This Instant from the Coach's side,
Or by my Beard, with all my force,
I'll knock thee down from off thy Horse.

Tho' this was spoke 'twixt bad Biscaynish,
And worse adult'rate broken Spanish,
Yet Quixote understood his Meaning,
By's mode of speaking and his grinning,
And gravely, full of Scorn and Pride,
To the Biscayan thus reply'd:

Wert thou a Gentleman or Knight,
A proper Match for me to fight,
This Arm should punish, thou should'st see,
Thy Insolent Temerity;
But thou, poor Wretch, escap'st the danger,
Because unworthy of my Anger;
For 'tis Ignoble for the Brave
To Combat with a servile Slave.

The stout Biscayan's Fury rising,
To hear Expressions so despising,
Proud as a Shentleman of Wales,
Let fly worse Oaths than Splutteranails,
Replying, full of Rage and Fire,
Tho' thou'rt a Knight thou art a Lyar,
I'll make thee know that a Biscayan
Can shew himself a Gentleman,
Throw by thy Hop-Pole of a Lance,
And draw thy Sword in thy defence,
That I may let thy Knightship see,
Thou'rt not a Man, but Mouse to me;
I'll make thee know by this my Hand,
I'm Gentleman by Sea and Land,
A Gentleman who scorns to fear
Those rusty Ironsides you wear,
A Gentleman that dares to fight
Thief, Ruffian, Devil, Rogue or Knight,
And he's a Coward that's so free
To question my Gentility.

‘Say you me so (replies the Knight)
‘I'll try your Courage by this Light,
‘And wave my Honour for this once,
‘To cool the heat of such a Bounce.
With that he throws aside his Lance,
And does his naked Sword advance;
Then grasping of his Shield prepares
Himself and Horse for bloody Wars.

The bold Biscayan, when he found
The Knight resolv'd to stand his Ground,
Now entertain'd some Thoughts of quitting
His Jadish Mule, too weak for fighting,
Conceiting he might Combat better
On Foot, than on so dull a Creature;
But the Don spurring Rozinant,
Came on so like a John of Gaunt,
That's Foe had just but time to snatch
A well stuff'd Cusheon out the Coach,
Which useful Furniture he made
A Target to secure his Head.
No sooner was the poor Biscayan
Thus arm'd, but both began to lay on
With so much Vigour, Heat, and Passion
That none could give determination
Which made the most courageous push on,
The Sword and Shield, or Sword and Cusheon.

The Lady frighted at the sight
Of such a dang'rous dreadful Fight,
Scream'd out aloud, O Murder, Murder!
Giving her flogging Driver order
To turn a little out o'th' Way
Left she shou'd suffer in the Fray,
And that some spiteful Stroke awry,
Should make her Chariot-Windows fly;
For Blows sometimes in Quarrels light
On those they ne'er design to hit,
And Standers-by receive, by chance,
More Mischief than the Combatants.

By this time some that lag'd behind
The Coach came up, amaz'd to find
So fierce and terrible a Fight,
'Twixt the Biscayan and the Knight,
And caring not for Blood and Slaughter,
Endeavour'd to compose the Matter;
But still the bold outrageous Foes
So follow'd their malicious Blows,
That neither would with-hold their Arms
To listen to pacifick Terms;
For when engag'd it is no season
For Peace to be enforc'd by Reason.

When thus the Standers-by beheld
The Cusheon work against the Shield,
And that no Measures would asswage
Their mutual Envy and their Rage,
They stood aside to see fair play,
And to their Pastime turn'd the Fray,
Some crying out, Now Cavalier.
Others, Well fought brave Cushioneer.
Now Horse, now Mule, now Hog in Armour;
Have at him Boy, Now Country Farmer;
For so the Gazers, who were three,
Took the Biscayan Lout to be.
At length the Lady's bold Defender
Did o'er Don Quixote's Target tender,
A Blow so spiteful on his Shoulder,
That twang'd and startl'd each Beholder,
And would have cleft him sure enough,
Had not his Armour been Sword-proof.
The Knight b'ing much enrag'd to feel
The weighty Stroke quite thro' his Steel,
Cry'd, O! Dulcinea, let thy Charms
Inspire my Breast and guide my Arms,
That this discurteous daring Knight,
With whom, for thee alone, I fight,
May own thy Pow'r, or not outlive
The next tremendous Blow I give.
Then binding Knees unto his Horse,
And grasping with a strenuous force
The Handle of his trusty Blade,
And cov'ring with his Shield his Head,
With angry Heels he spurs the Sides
Of foaming Rozinant, and rides
Full tilt, to cleave and overthrow
His hardy and presumptuous Foe,
That fiercely charging, without Mercy,
One Blow might end the Controversy.
But the Biscayan taking Caution,
From the Knight's Posture and his Motion
With equal Bravery prepar'd
To stand undaunted on his Guard,
Resolving to sustain the Brunt,
Or furious Stroke, what e'er came on't;
So covering, with Cushion large,
His Head and Breast against the Charge,
He sate well fix'd upon his Mule,
Who stood immovable and dull,
His passive Strength being fitter far
To stand the Shock than fly the War;
For Work and Age had so decay'd
The Sinews of the sullen Jade,
That neither Whip or pointed Spur
Would make the Hobby care to stir;
So that the Rider and his Steed,
As things fell out, were well agreed,
For neither were for basely shunning
The Danger by their hasty running.
No sooner had the furious Knight
Began his Charge, with all his Might,
But the Biscayan nimbly shew'd
His Strength, and the Attack withstood,
Giving no Ground unto his Foe,
But bravely answer'd Blow with Blow,
Whilst those that stay'd to see the Fight
With Terror trembl'd at the sight,
Expecting ev'ry Stroke would Lop
A Head, or that a Limb would drop.
The Lady gazing from her Coach,
As pale as Death, her Fear was such,
Praying to all the Saints of Spain,
That they'd assist her poor Biscayan,
And from the loss of Life or Limb
Deliver safe herself and him.
Thus Women, who can Smile to please,
And Frown to interrupt our Ease,
Oft set their Lovers by the Ears,
Then crown the Fray with Pray'rs and Tears.

The brave Biscayan now grew warm
With struggling in this ugly Storm,
In which a show'r of Blows, as well
Upon the Shield as Cushion fell,
That both were almost out of Breath,
By bravely disappointing Death;
Nor could the Combatants foresee
Which Side should gain the Victory;
So that the bold Biscayan Foe,
Now watch'd for a deciding Blow,
And finding that the Knight, at length,
Lay open, he renew'd his Strength,
And gave so smart a Stroke upon
The crazy Head-piece of the Don,
That from the left-side of his Crown
He cleft it to his Shoulder down,
Dividing with his stubborn Blade,
His Ear from his astonish'd Head,
Which fell to th' Ground, by great mishap,
With a large Sliver of his Cap,
And there lay bury'd in the Dust,
O'erwhelm'd with monumental Rust.

Don Quixote much enrag'd to find
His Stars so spitefully unkind,
Began again aloud to pray
Unto his dear Dulcinea,
That she'd enable him to perform
Some Wonder with his strenuous Arm,
And to revenge the fatal Blow
That had debas'd his Knighthood so,
And so defac'd his Ear as if
He'd been some Pill'ry cheating Thief,
Or taken that unthankful labour
To bear False-witness 'gainst his Neighbour;
Therefore when he had clos'd his Prayer
Unto his dearest charming Fair,
He briskly summon'd all his Force,
And spur'd new Life into his Horse,
Then looking fierce and grasping hard
The Handle of his nut-brown Sword,
He rais'd himself upon his Stirrups,
And gave his Steed some heart'ning Cherups,
Then pushing close upon his Foe,
He lent his Noddle such a Blow,
Which if the Edge had been but true,
Must needs have cleft his Trunk in two,
And made him fall with cloven Twist,
On both sides of his scrubby Beast;
However the revengeful Stroke
Surpris'd him both with Cut and Knock,
And tho' the Wound was not o'erbig,
It made him bleed like any Pig,
And fell'd him down, with drooping Head,
Upon the Withers of his Jade;
Which Posture so provok'd the Mule,
That tho' in Fight he prov'd so dull,
Yet now he ran about the Field
Like Forest-Colt, and seem'd as wild,
Till he had shaken off his Load
Upon a Greenswerd near the Road,
Which the Knight seeing spur'd his Steed,
And rid unto the place with speed,
Where, lighting from his Horse, he put
His Sword-point to the Victim's Throat,
And gravely vow'd, unless he'd yield,
He'd, with his Blood, manure the Field,
And cut his Head from off his Shoulders,
In sight and spight of the Beholders,
Whilst the poor Foe, beneath his Sword,
Lay stun'd, and could not speak a Word.
The frighted Lady, with her Maid,
Came running, and beseech'd and pray'd,
That for her sake he would not slay
Her Servant, who at Mercy lay,
But spare his Life, and what he wanted
Should instantly by them be granted.

Ladies, (reply'd the Don) 'tis true,
I shall be glad to pleasure you,
Provided you will pass your Word,
That he who lies beneath my Sword,
Shall on this very Day bestride
His Mule, and to Tobosa ride,
There prostrate on the Ground submit
Himself at fair Dulcinea's Feet,
And let her know that I the Brave
Don Quixote send him as her Slave,
A Victim conquer'd by my Arms,
And made a Captive to her Charms.

The Lady, full of Fear and Trembling,
Scrupl'd no Soothing or Dissembling,
But gave her Word that ev'ry Task
The Victor could demand or ask,
Should be perform'd, altho' she made
But small Account of what he said:
Nor did sh' enquire about his Fair
Dulcinea, who she was, or where
The Noble Lady's Palace stood,
Near what Town, River, Plain, or Wood,
That the poor Victim might the better
Know how or which way to come at her:
However, Madam pawn'd her Honour,
His conquer'd Foe should wait upon her,
And that th' Injunctions he had laid,
Should all be punctually obey'd.

Then let him live (reply'd the Don,
With all the State he could put on)
Upon your Honour and your Word,
Great Princess, I withdraw my Sword,
And at your gen'rous Intercession,
Pardon his Life and his Transgression;
But still expect your vanquish'd Knight
Should do the Fair Dulcinea Right.

The Lady wanting not the Grace
Of a true Woman in Distress,
Vow'd once more what she ne'er intended,
And so the mighty Contest ended.

Success on rash Attempts bestow'd
Make Fools grow Insolent and Proud,
And Fear will cause the Fair to make
Those very Vows they mean to break.