times thinking him frantic; because what he spoke was sensible, consistent, and genteelly expressed, but his actions discovered all the symptoms of wildness, folly, and temerity. "For what greater sign of disorder (said he to himself), can there be, than for a man to clap on a helmet full of curds, and then take it into his head that some magician had liquified his skull? and what more certain proof of fool-hardiness and wild frenzy, than for a person, in spite of all that can be said to him, to resolve to engage lions ?"

Don Quixote interrupted these reflections and soliloquy of his fellow-traveller, by saying, "Signor Don Diego de Miranda, I don't doubt but that, in your judgment, I must pass for an extravagant madman; and indeed no wonder for, to be sure, my actions would seem to declare me such: but, at the same time, I must beg leave to say to you, that I am not so disordered, or so bereft of understanding, as to you I may have seemed. The gay cavalier, who, in burnished armour, before the ladies, prances over the lists, makes a gallant appearance! The adventurous knight too shews off to great advantage, when in the midst of the spacious square, in view of his prince, he transfixes the furious bull. And a noble appearance make those knights, who, in military exercises, or such like, are the life, spirit, and even honour of their prince's court. But a much more noble figure than all these makes the knight-errant, who, in the solitudes of the desert, through the almost impervious passages of the forest, and over the craggy mountains, goes in quest of perilous adventures, to bring them to a successful issue, and that only to obtain glory, honour, and an immortal name. A knight-errant, I say, makes a more glorious appearance when he assists the widow in some solitary plain, than the courtier knight, when he lavishes his gallantry on a town-lady. All cavaliers have their different spheres, in which they act: let the courtier pay his attendance to the ladies, adorn the court of his prince with the splendour of his equipage, entertain gentlemen of inferior fortunes with the hospitality of his sumptuous table; let him propose matches of different exercise, and direct the justs and tournaments; let him shew himself splendid, liberal, and munificent; and, above all, approve himself a good Christian: in acting thus, he will discharge the duties that belong to him. But for

the knight-errant, let him explore the most hidden recesses of the universe, plunge into the perplexities of the labyrinths; let him at all times not be afraid of even impossibilities; in the barren, wasteful, wilderness, let him defy the scorching rays of the solstitial sun, and the piercing chillings of the nipping frost. Lions must not frighten him, phantoms must not terrify him, nor dragons dismay him; for, in searching after such, engaging with, and getting the better of all difficulties, consists his true and proper occupation. It being my fortune, then, to be of this last order, I cannot, consistent with that, avoid engaging in whatever I deem to be part of the duty of my calling: and for these reasons, though I know that encountering the lions was in itself an act of the greatest temerity, yet it immediately be longed to my profession: I am very sensible that true fortitude is placed between the two extremes of cowardice and fool-hardiness; but then it is better valour should mount even to an over-daring hardiness, than be debased to pusillanimity; for, as the prodigal is more likely to become truly generous than the miser, so will the over-courageous sooner be brought to true valour, than the coward to be courageous at all; and, in undertaking adventures, I assure you, Don Diego, it is much better to overdo than underdo, and much better does it sound in the ear of him to whom it is related, that a knight is daring and presumptuous, than that he is pusillanimous and faint-hearted.”

"Signor Don Quixote (answered Diego), I think all you have said is consonant to the rule of right reason; and I am of opinion, that if the laws and statutes of true chivalry were lost, they would be found deposited and faithfully recorded in your breast: but, if you please, we will put on, for it grows late; let us get towards my house and village, that you may have some rest, and taste of some refreshment after your late fatigue, which, if it does not weary the body, must be heavy upon the mind, the labours of which often affect the body likewise."

"I accept of your invitation, Don Diego (said the other), as a favour and mark of politeness.' And hastening forward a little quicker than they had done before, they arrived about two in the afternoon at the habitation of Diego, on whom Don Quixote bestowed the appella tion of the Knight of the Green Surtout.

CHAP. I.

Of what befell Don Quixote at the castle or house of the Knight of the Green Surtout; with other out-of-the-way matters.

Don Quixote found that Diego's house, like the houses of most country gentlemen, was large and roomy; with the arms of the family over the great gates, cut out in rough stone: the buttery was in the yard, the cellar was under the porch, and around were placed divers jars, which jars being of the manufactory of Toboso, recalled the memory of the metamor phosed and enchanted Dulcinea; upon which, without reflecting what he said, or before whom he poured out his sighs and tears, "O dearest pledges (said he), which now I find in bitter ness of sorrow, but sweet and ravishing when Heaven's high will ordained it so! O jars of Toboso, which have recalled into my mind the dear idea of my greatest sorrow!" This exclamation was overheard by the young poet, Diego's son, who, along with his mother, had come down to receive Don Quixote. Both mother and son were struck with his uncouth figure; and he, alighting from Rozinante, with great good breeding, begged leave to kiss the lady's hands. To which entreaty Don Diego added, "Madam, receive with your usual politeness Signor Don Quixote de la Mancha, knight-errant, whom I here introduce to you as a gentleman of the brightest parts and most intrepid courage of any in the world." Donna Christina (for that was the lady's name) received him with all the marks of respect and esteem, and Don Quixote overpaid them in polite and mannerly acknowledgments: the same kind of intercourse passed between him and the young scholar, whom he took by his conversation to be a gentleman of vivacity and acute

ness.

The author here minutely describes Don Diego's house, gives an inventory of the furniture usually contained in the house of a rich country gentleman: but the translators of this history have thought it advisable not to mention these and such other particular matters, as being rather foreign from the main scope of this history, in which truth has more energy than needless and languid digressions.

Don Quixote was conducted into a hall, where Sancho disarmed him; after which, he remained in his other accoutrements, a pair of wide waloon breeches, and a shamoy leather doublet, stained with the rust of his armour: his band was collegian, neither starched nor laced, his buskins of the colour of dates, and

his shoes of waxed leather: he girded upon his thigh his trusty sword, which hung at a belt of seal's-skin, for it is believed he had been for some years troubled with an imbecility in his loins and over all these was a long cloak of good grey cloth; but, before he stirred any farther, he applied to his face five or six pitchers (the precise number not being exactly ascertained) of fair water, which, nevertheless, still ran off, exhibiting a whey colour; and it was undoubtedly owing to the irregular appetite of Sancho, and his having made the bargain for these nasty curds, that his master was now scoured so white and so clean. In this equipment, as here described, and with a gallant air and address, Don Quixote walked into another hall, where the young gentleman of the house was waiting to receive and entertain him till dinner should be got ready; for as to the lady, Donna Christina, she was busy in ordering matters so, upon the arrival of this noble guest, as to let it be seen she knew what reception to give those who came to visit under her roof.

While Don Quixote was unarming, Don Lorenzo (that was the name of Diego's son) took the opportunity of that leisure time to ask his father who that knight was he had brought home to them: "For (said he), his name and his uncouth figure, and your telling us, at the same time, that he is a knight-errant, puzzle both my mother and me prodigiously." Said Don Diego, "I know not what answer to make you; all I can say is, I never saw a madman act more franticly, and have heard him talk so very sensibly, as gave the lie to all his actions: but I would have you enter into conversation with him, and sound the depth of his understanding; you have sense enough, and therefore I would have you form a judgment according to your own observation; to say the truth, I myself am more inclined to believe him distracted than otherwise."

Upon this intimation Don Lorenzo went to entertain Don Quixote, as we have mentioned, who, among other discourse, said to Lorenzo, "Signor Don Diego de Miranda, your father has been pleased to inform me a little of your great genius and good judgment, and particu larly that you are a great poet." "A poet in some sense I may be (said Lorenzo); but a great one did I never so much as dare, even in my own imagination, to think myself: true it is, I am a little fond of poetry, and of reading the good poets; but don't at all for that reason merit the title my father has been pleased to bestow upon me."-" I love your reserve (said Don Quixote); for poets are usually far removed from modesty, each thinking himself the great

est in the world."-" No rule holds universally (answered Lorenzo), and there may be one who is really a great poet, and yet does not think himself so. "-" There must be very few such (answered the other): but pray, sir (continued he), what verses are those you are about, which your father says make you so anxious and studious? for, if it be commenting upon some theme, I know somewhat of the art of paraphrasing, and should be glad to see what your performance is; and if they are designed as a poetical prize, let me advise you to obtain the second, for the first is decreed in view of interest, or in favour of the great quality of some person; but merit carries the second: so that, according to the general practice of our universities, the third becomes the second, and the first the third: but, notwithstanding this acceptation, the name of the first makes a great shew."-"So far surely (said Lorenzo to himself), this gentleman shews no sign of a disturb ed understanding; but we'll go on :"-" Your worship, I presume, has been long at the schools; pray, sir, what sciences have you addicted yourself to?"-" That of knight-errantry (replied Don Quixote); a science equally sublime as your poetry, and, in my humble opinion, even mounted a few steps above it."

That science (answered Lorenzo), I am hitherto a stranger to; it has not yet come within the extent of my knowledge.""It is a science (answered the other), that includes in itself virtually most, if not all, the other sciences in the world; for he who professes it must be a civilian, and know the laws both of distributive and commutative justice, to determine with equity and propriety what lawfully and properly belongs to every individual: he must be a good divine and casuist, that he may, with clearness and precision, defend the principles of the Christian faith, which he professes, as often as he shall be required so to do: he ought to be a physician, and particularly a botanist, that, in the midst of deserts and wildernesses, he may know those herbs that are of efficacy in curing wounds; for a knight-errant cannot at every turn have recourse to a surgeon: he ought to be an astronomer, to distinguish by the stars the time of the night, together with the climate and part of the globe on which he chances to be: he must be learned in the mathematics, for which he will frequently have occasion; and besides being adorned with all the theological and cardinal virtues, he ought to descend to other minute branches of science: I say, for example, he must know how to swim like a herring, to shoe a horse, to mend a saddle and bridle: and, returning to what we have observed above, he must preserve his fealty to God and his mistress: he must be chaste in thought, decent in speech, liberal in action, valiant in exploits, patient in toil, charitable with the needy; and, finally, an asserter of truth, even

though the defence of it should cost him his life. Of all these great and small qualities is a good knight-errant composed; so that Signor Don Lorenzo may judge whether it be a snivelling science which is learned and professed by a knight-errant; and whether it may not be compared with the sublimest which are taught in colleges and schools."-" If that be the case (replied Don Lorenzo), I affirm, that it has the advantage over all others."-"How! (cried Don Quixote) if that be the case!"-"What I would say (resumed Lorenzo), is, that I doubt whether there ever were or are knights-errant adorned with so many virtues."—" I have of ten said what I am now going to repeat (answered Don Quixote), that the greatest part of the world believes there never were knights. errant : and, in my opinion, if Heaven does not work a miracle to prove that they both did and do exist, whatever trouble may be taken will fail of success, as I know by repeated experience: I will not, therefore, spend time at present in refuting and rectifying the error in which you and many others are involved; but my intention is, to pray that Heaven will extricate you from your mistake, and give you to understand how advantageous and necessary knights-errant have been to the world in past ages, and how useful they might be to the present, were it the custom to solicit their assistance; but now, for the sins of mankind, idle ness, sloth, gluttony, and extravagance prevail and triumph." Here Don Lorenzo said within himself, Now hath our guest given us the slip; but, nevertheless, he is a whimsical madman, and I should be an idle fool if I thought otherwise."

In this place their discourse was interrupted by a call to table; and Don Diego asked his son, what he had fairly extracted from the genius of his guest? To this question he replied, "All the best physicians and writers that the world contains will not extract him fairly from the blotted sheet of his madness; but he is a party-coloured maniac, full of lucid intervals." They sat down to eat, and their repast was such as Don Diego had said upon the road he was wont to bestow upon his friends whom he invited, neat, plentiful, and savoury; but what yielded more satisfaction to Don Quixote, was the wonderful silence that prevailed over the whole house, which, in this par ticular, resembled a monastery of Carthusians.

The cloth being removed, grace said, and hands washed, Don Quixote earnestly desired that Don Lorenzo would repeat the verses designed for the literary contest; and the young gentleman answered," Rather than appear one of those authors, who, when they are requested to rehearse their works, refuse to grant the favour, and, on the other hand, disgorge them upon those who have no inclination to hear them, I will repeat my gloss, from which I ex

pect no reward, as I composed it solely with a view to exercise my genius."-" It was the opinion of an ingenious friend of mine (said Don Quixote), that no man ought to fatigue himself in glossing upon verses; because, as he observed, the gloss could never come up to the text; and very often, or indeed almost always, the gloss was foreign to the original proposition; besides, the laws of the gloss were extremely narrow, restricting the paraphraser from the use of interrogations; and (said he), or I will say, as well as from changing verbs into nouns, and altering the sentiment; with other ties and shackles incurred by those who try their fortune in this way, as you yourself undoubtedly know."-" Verily, Signor Don Quixote (cried Don Lorenzo), I am very desirous of entrapping your worship in false Latin; but it is not in my power; for you slip through my fingers like an eel."-" I do not know (answered the knight), what you mean by saying I slip through your fingers."-" I will explain myself some other time (replied Don Lorenzo); meanwhile your worship will be pleased to hear the paraphrase and the text, which run thus:"

THE TEXT.

Could I the moments past renew,
Though fate should other joys deny ;
Or bring the future scenes to view,
In time's dark womb that rip'ning lie.

THE GLOSS.

As all things perish and decay;

So did that happiness I mourn On silent pinion fleet away;

Ah! never never to return. At fortune's feet forlorn I lie :

Would she again propitious strew Her favours, who more blest than I, Could I the moments past renew!

No pleasure, palm, or wreath I claim, No wealth or triumph seek to find; For all my wish and all my aim

Is to retrieve my peace of mind. Ah, fortune! thy returning smile Would change to bliss my destiny, And ev'ry gloomy thought beguile, Though fate should other joys deny. Fond wish! impossible and vain,

No pow'r on this terrestrial ball Can Time's unwearied foot detain,

Or his accomplish'd flight recall: He forward flies, nor looks behind;

And those miscarriage will pursue, Who hope the fugitive to bind,

Or bring the future scenes to view.

Perplex'd with hopes and fears I live,
Though death at once would ease my pain;
What folly then for me to grieve,
Who can that easy cure obtain?
No! yet a wiser course I'll steer,
Resolved my fortune still to try,
Until those happier days appear,

In time's dark womb that rip'ning lie.

Don Lorenzo no sooner concluded his paraphrase, than Don Quixote, starting up, took the young gentleman by the right hand, and raising his voice even almost to a halloo, pronounced, "Now by the heaven of heavens! noble youth, you are the best poet in the world, and deserve to be crowned with laurel, not by Cyprus or Gaëta, as an author said, whom God pardon, but by the academy of Athens, did it now subsist, and by those of Paris, Bologna, and Salamanca, which are still in being. Hea ven grant that those judges who deny you the first prize may be transfixed by the arrows of Apollo, and that the Muses may never deign to cross the thresholds of their doors. Signor, let me hear, if you please, some of your more majestic verses, that I may be thoroughly acquainted with the pulse of your admirable genius." Is it not diverting to observe, that Don Lorenzo was pleased with the applause of Don Quixote, although he considered him as a madman? O influence of flattery, how far dost thou extend! and how unlimited are the limits of thy agreeable jurisdiction! This truth is verified in the behaviour of Lorenzo, who, in compliance with the desire and entreaty of the knight, repeated this sonnet on the fable or story of Pyramus and Thisbe:

SONNET.

Fair Thisbe's charms what bulwarks could withstand!

They pierced e'en to her gallant lover's soul; And Cupid hasten'd from the Cyprian strand,

To view the narrow pass by which they stole. Here silence spoke, and through that narrow breach,

Which e'en the timid voice durst not essay, Th' intrepid souls to perfect union stretch, Inspired, empower'd by love's almighty sway. Th' ill-fated pair to death untimely came,

With flow'ry pleasure's tempting bait enticed, By the same poniard, monument, and fame, At once destroy'd, enclosed, immortalized.

"Blessed be God! (cried Don Quixote, when he had heard the sonnet of Don Lorenzo), that amidst the infinite number of consumptive poets that now exist, I have found one consummate, as your worship has plainly evinced yourself, by the art and execution of those stanzas."

The knight was sumptuously regaled in the house of Don Diego for the space of four days; at the expiration of which he thanked his entertainer for the noble treatment he had received from his hospitality, and begged leave to depart for as it did not become knights-errant to devote much time to ease and banqueting, he was desirous of fulfilling the duty of his profession in seeking adventures, with which he understood that country abounded, and in which he hoped to employ the time till the day of the tournament of Saragossa, whither he was bound: but, first of all, he was resolved to enter the cave of Montesinos, about which so many strange stories were recounted all over that neighbourhood, that he might investigate and discover the origin and real springs of the seven lakes of Ruydera. Don Diego and his son applauded the glorious design, and desired he would supply himself with whatever their house or fortune could afford; for they would, with the utmost good-will, perform that service, which they equally owed to his personal valour and honourable profession. At length arrived the day of his departure, as joyful to the knight as dismal and unfortunate to Sancho Panza, who had lived so much at his ease, amidst the plenty of Don Diego's house, that he could not without reluctance return to the hunger that prevails in dreary forests, and to the poverty of his ill-provided bags, which, however, he now took care to fill and stuff with what he thought most necessary for his occasions.

At parting, Don Quixote addressing himself to Don Lorenzo, "I know not (said he), whether I have already told your worship; but if I have, let me now repeat the intimation, that when you are inclined to take the shortest and easiest road to the inaccessible summit of the temple of fame, you have no more to do but to leave on one side the path of poetry, which is pretty narrow, and follow that of knight-errantry, which, though the narrowest of all others, will conduct you to the throne of empire in the turning of a straw." With this advice did the knight, as it were, sum up the process of his madness, which, however, was still more manifest in this addition. Heaven knows what pleasure I should feel in the company and association of Don Lorenzo, whom I would teach, by my own example, to spare the fallen, and trample the haughty under foot; virtues annexed to the order I profess: but as his tender years do not require such tutorage, nor would his laudable exercises permit him to pursue my steps, I shall content myself with assuring his worship, that being a poet, he may certainly acquire renown, if he will conduct himself rather by the opinion of others than his own; for no parent ever thought his own offspring ugly, and this prejudice is still more strong to wards the children of the understanding."

Both father and son admired anew the strange medley of Don Quixote's discourse, in which so much discretion and madness were jumbled together; and were astonished at the wilfulness and obstinacy with which he was so wholly bent upon the search of his misadventurous adventures, that constituted the very aim of all his desires. Nevertheless, they repeated their offers of service and civility, and with the good leave of the lady of the castle, Don Quixote and Sancho set out on Rozinante and Dapple.

CHAP. II.

In which is recounted the adventure of the Ena moured Shepherd, with other truly diverting incidents.

A LITTLE way Don Quixote had travelled from the habitation of Don Diego, when he was joined by two persons dressed like ecclesiastics, or students, and a couple of labouring men mounted upon asses: behind one of the students was a bundle wrapped up in green buckram, seemingly consisting of some linen and two pair of coarse thread stockings; while the other was encumbered with nothing but a couple of new black fencing foils, with their buttons. The countrymen carried other things, which discovered and gave notice that they were on their return from some great town, where they had made a purchase, and were bringing it home to their own village: and they, as well as the students, were seized with that admiration which was incident to all those who, for the first time, beheld Don Quixote; indeed, they burned with curiosity to know what sort of a creature he was, so different in appearance from other men.

The knight saluted them courteously; and understanding their road was the same route that he designed to follow, made a proffer of his company; at the same time begging they would slacken their pace, as their beasts travelled faster than his horse. In order to facilitate their compliance with his request, he briefly told them who he was, made them acquainted with his office and profession, which was chivalry, and observed, that he was going in quest of adventures, through all parts of the world; giving them to understand that his proper name was Don Quixote de la Mancha, and his ap pellative, the Knight of the Lions.

All this information was Greek or gibberish to the countrymen, but not to the students, who immediately discovered the weakness of Don Quixote's brain; nevertheless they beheld him with admiration; and one of them, in a respectful manner, accosted him thus: "If your worship, sir knight, follows no determined road, as those who go in quest of adventures