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

The Knight's preparing, for the Field,
His Lance, his Armour, and his Shield;
The naming of himself and Horse,
And his Dear Doxy, tho' but Course.

The Crazy Don b'ing now inspir'd,
With Courage and Ambition fir'd,

Could Dream of nothing but Amours,
Fine Ladies, Armour, Silver Spurs,
And Steed that would his Ground maintain,
In dirty Road or dusty Plain,
And all things that could needful be,
To mount a Champion Cap-a-pe.

Thus bent he did to mind recal,
The rusty Breast-plate in his Hall,
And Batter'd Helmet which had born,
When in the Times of Yore 'twas worn,
So many bitter Bangs and Drubs,
Of trusty Swords and sturdy Clubs,
That of each side the yielding Mettle,
Was bruis'd like Grannum's Ancient Kettle:
However, as the Maggot bit,
He thought it for his purpose fit;
So down the Trumpery was taken,
Which had for Ages hung forsaken,
And e'ery Piece with Care inspected,
That all Defects might be corrected.

Much Pains were now bestow'd upon
The Canker'd Armour by the Don,
Brick-dust and Oyl, and Soap and Sand,
Were us'd with an industrious Hand,
And e'ery thing apply'd that might
Make the Old rusty Head-piece bright;
Tho' 'twas but Labour spent in vain,
Like washing Æthiopian;
Yet no good Hus'wife that delights
To scour her Hand-ir'ns and her Spits,
That she for cleanliness may vie
With any noted Gossip nigh,
Could take more pains about her Grates,
Her Pots and Dishes, or her Plates,
Than did the busy Don to cleanse
His Trusty Armour of Defence:
At length by nice Examination,
Found his Steel Cap of Preservation,
That was to guard his Head from blows,
And deadly Thwacks of stubborn Foes;

No Beaver had to save his Face,
The Champion's only market place,
But that in Fight he must expose
His Eagle Eyes and Hawks-bill Nose,
Unless he timely could project,
Some way to mend the sad defect;
For nothing could the Champion daunt,
Turn Knight he would what e're came on't
Was therefore much concern'd about
The needful safeguard of his Snout,
Which after all could not be found,
In Hole or Nook above the Ground:
So that at last, consid'ring by
What means he could the loss supply,
And being exc'llent at Invention,
He took with Care the true Dimension,
And of stiff Pastboard did compleat,
A Beaver so exactly fit,
That it deserv'd much Admiration,
Altho' it would not stand Probation;

For when he came to try how well
His Work would bear the force of Steel,
One sturdy Stroke did quite dissever
What a whole Week had patch'd together.
Thus many in One Minute spoil
The Product of a tedious Toil,
As Sots will at one sitting spend,
What many Days hard Labour gain'd.

The pensive Don now growing vex'd
To find himself so much perplex'd,
Not doubting such a fatal slip
In his own Artful Workmanship,
But rather thought his Pastboard Beaver,
Would stand the Stroke of Butcher's Cleaver,
Doubl'd at least to make it hold,
Like Ajax Shield full Sevenfold.
Thus Disappointments unforeseen,
Will often plague the Bravest Men;
But he that's Stout will never bend
To those Misfortunes he can mend.

Therefore the Don b'ing reconcil'd,
To what he had both made and spoil'd,
Resolv'd by stitching and by pasting,
To make his Handy-work more lasting:
So down a second time he sat,
With Awl and Ends, and God knows what,
And patch'd, as if 't had been his Trade,
The Cuts and Breaches he had made,
Till by his skilful pains at length,
It prov'd of such undoubted Strength,
That he conceiv'd 'twas Cutlace proof,
And without Tryal firm enough
To save his Phiz from sore mischance,
Of Nut-brown Sword or stubborn Lance.

When thus to guard himself from Murder
He'd put his Armour into Order,
And made his Spurs not only bright,
But sharp as Sword of Errant Knight,
Whetted his Weapons till as kene
As crooked Scythe had ever been;

The next thing to be done in course,
Was to revive his aged Horse
With Oats and Beans, such hearty Meat
Poor Dobbin very seldom eat,
Who now had scarce a useful Tooth
To bless his Gums, or grace his Mouth;
But, Grannum like, had much ado
To mumble what he could not chew.
However, now his matted Main
Was comb'd and trim'd, and comb'd again;
His Fly-flap too, that hung as low
As daggl'd Tail of Gammar's Cow,
Was dock'd as close his bony Crupper,
As bob-tail Horse of English Trooper;
His Heels new Shod, his Hide well curry'd,
And a long Lock brought o'er his Forehead,
Not only meant to add a Grace,
But Fierceness to his raw-bone Face,
That he might be by Foes accounted,
A bold Bucephalus when mounted,

And that each Horse might be afraid
O'th' Hide-bound Anatomick Jade,
And start against a Wall or Post,
To shun the Brute, as if a Ghost;
Or that each Steed of greater Force,
That met this Grandsire of a Horse,
To crippl'd Age might Rev'rence pay,
And, without Jostling, give the Way:
As Youth, whose Manners we extol,
To grissy Dolards give the Wall.

When thus he had prepar'd his Stramel,
Tall as an Elephant or Camel,
And made the bony Scare-crow fit
For the War Saddle and the Bit,
He took four Days Consideration,
About what noble Appellation
He should bestow upon the Brute,
That best his Qualities might sure,
And also add unto the Fame
Of him who was to mount the same;

For if a Name that's well apply'd,
Gives Credit to the Beast we ride,
Then he that is thereof the Donor,
In Justice ought to share the Honour.

After the Don much time had spent,
Some apt Distinction to invent,
Had alter'd, mended, dash'd, and blotted,
To make the Character unspotted,
At last it came into his Fancy,
To call his Courser Rozinante;
A Name that, in the Don's Conceit,
Sounded significantly Great,
Filling the Mouth, when 'twas exprest,
With Rev'rence tow'rds the worthy Beast,
And seem'd to intimate, the Steed
Was of no base or vulgar Breed,
But fit, by Quality and Birth,
To mount the bravest Knight on Earth.
So Kings, with Titles, Honour those
They for their own Companions chuse,

That they may be, upon occasion,
By vertue of their new Creation,
More fit for Royal Conversation.

Having thus far so well proceeded,
Himself began to think he needed
Some new addition to his Name,
That might his own true Worth proclaim;
And also to his native Town
Bring endless Honour and Renown,
By Deeds of Prowess, which he meant
To do, if nothing should prevent;
Accordingly a Week he took
For Study, without help of Book,
To find some new Donomination,
Deserving of his Approbation:
At length, when very near distracted
With Thought, he timely recollected,
A doubty Knight, of wondrous Fame,
Who'd tag'd his Country to his Name,

Which was Amadis, whom we call,
(As he had stil'd himself) de Gaul,
A Precedent so very fair,
It nick'd the Champion to a Hair,
Who grasp'd a good old silver Cup,
And when with Wine he'd fill'd it up,
Himself new Christens, and then drank a
Health to Don Quixote de la Mancha;
Which awful Name the Hero chose,
To fright and terrify his Foes,
And make them fearful to advance
Their Arms against his Sword or Launce.
So Country Gaff, that keeps a Dog
To bait a Bull or hunt a Hog,
Calls the Cur Towzer, that his Game
May swiftly fly the dreadful Name.

The Don, with wondrous Satisfaction,
Being almost now prepar'd for Action,
His Armour made indiff'rent bright,
His aged Horse in wholsome plight,

His Helmet, by his artful Pains,
Well cobbl'd to secure his Brains;
His ancient Spurs and Weapons made
As clean and keen as Pen-knife Blade;
Himself distinguish'd and his Steed,
To come of some Illustrious Breed;
That now there wanted but one thing
To fit him for Knight-Erranting,
And that was, lastly, to approve
Some Maid deserving of his Love,
For sake of whose prevailing Charms
He might exert his conquring Arms,
And at her Feet most humbly lay
His Trophies, when he'd won the Day;
For a Knight-Errant that has none
To heap his valiant Deeds upon,
Poor Tinker-like, without a Trully,
Must beat the dusty Road but dully;
For where a Champion has no Dame,
To share his Honour and his Fame,

He Combats like that Bully-Rake,
That only fights for Fighting's sake;
For Blood is seldom bravely spilt,
In Duel, Tournament, or Tilt,
Between the Plaintiff and Defendant,
Without a Woman at the end on't.
The Champion therefore recollected
A Lass he'd heretofore affected,
Tho' now in Years a little stricken,
And something wither'd, not to speak on,
Only so wrinkl'd, that the Maid
Was what we call not Old, but Staid;
A careful Huswife, fit to manage
Unlucky Striplings in their Nonage;
Or to become a Nurse to such
As lamely move by help of Crutch;
Besides, she famous was for making
Hogs-puddings, and for Brewing, Baking,
Churning rare Butter, pressing Cheese,
And all such useful things as these,

That not a Lass of her Degree,
Could match her for her Huswifry.
Her Dress was High crown'd-Hat and Pinner,
Suited to th' Qualities sh'ad in her;
Red-Petticoat of noble Dye,
At which the Turkies us'd to fly;
A Grogram-Gown, and Doulace-Linen,
Both which were of the Damsel's spining,

Aldonca was the Christian Name
Adapted to the Rural Dame,
Lorenco's said to be the other,
Deriv'd from Father and her Mother:
And this was she our famous Don,
After long study, pitch'd upon,
To make her, for her great Desert,
The only sov'reign of his Heart;
Resolving to bestow upon her,
Some new and swelling Name of Honour,
That might enlarge her Fame, and better
Become so excellent a Creature,

That when he should declare her brightness,
Her Carriage, Prudence, and Politeness,
Her Name, to ev'ry Hearers wonder,
Might rumble from his Mouth like Thunder.

Accordingly he rack'd his Brains,
And took a Week's incessant Pains,
To conjure up some fine Device,
That might be applicably nice:
At length by Love and Fancy fir'd,
The Thoughtful Don became inspir'd,
And leaping from his Buffet-Stool,
Cry'd out, I have it, by my Soul,
Dulcinea, that shall be her Name,
No Mortal can a better frame;
Says he, how sweetly does it sound!
Long look'd for now at last is found;
The Appellation fits my Dear,
It fills the Mouth and charms the Ear,
And well becomes so fair and chast
A Mistress, of so great a Breast.

But yet the Champion, not contented
With the bare Name he had invented,
Resolv'd to spend some Days, in order
To aptly find out something further,
That might set off the Dame to be
Of Noble Birth and Quality;
At length, by little and by little,
The Hero fix'd upon a Title,
And like a skilfull Vertuoso,
Added to Dulci*** del Tobosa,
Which was, as Authors do agree,
The Place of her Nativity.

His Lady's Name being thus commuted,
And all things to his Purpose suted,
He now resolv'd, what e'er came on't,
To mount his Trusty Rozinant,
And beat the dusty Road to find
Out strange Adventures to his Mind.

Thus, those who take too much delight
In idle Tales that others write,

Are oft misled from Reason's Rules,
To act like Madmen, or like Fools.

University of Virginia Library

CANTO II.