Pleasant notes upon Don Quixot by Edmund Gayton, Esq.

Pleasant notes upon Don Quixot by Edmund Gayton, Esq.

Table of contents

Title page

To the Candid Reader.

§

To his most facetious Friend, on his Festivous Notes upon Don Quixot.

To the very Witty, Merry Author.

The Itinerant Minister to the Squire Errant, on his Festivous Notes upon DON QUIXOT.

On DON QUIXOT with Annotations.

Aesop to the Knight of the Ill favour'd Face.

A Trumpet before the Puissant DON.

On the Festivous Notes upon Don Quixot.

On DON QUIXOT, published with Annotations, by my worthy friend, Mr Edmund Gayton.

Vpon the second comming forth of the most redoubted Knight DON QUIXOT, and his renowned Lady the Fam'd Dulcinea del Toboso.

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DON QUIXOT.

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

TEXT.

CHAP. II.

TEXT.

CHAP. III.

TEXT.

CHAP. IV.

TEXT.

CHAP. V.

TEXT.

CHAP. VI.

TEXT.

CHAP. VII.

TEXT.

CHAP. VIII.

TEXT.

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DONQUIXOT. BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

TEXT.

CHAP. II.

TEXT.

CHAP. III.

TEXT.

CHAP. IV.

TEXT.

CHAP. V.

TEXT.

CHAP. VI.

TEXT.

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DON QUIXOT. BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

TEXT.

CHAP. II.

TEXT.

CHAP. III.

TEXT.

CHAP. IV.

TEXT.

CHAP. V.

TEXT.

CHAP. VI.

TEXT.

CHAP. VII.

TEXT.

CHAP. VIII.

TEXT.

CHAP. IX.

TEXT.

CHAP. X.

TEXT.

CHAP. XI.

TEXT.

CHAP. XII.

TEXT.

CHAP. XIII.

TEXT.

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DON QUIXOT. BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

TEXT.

CHAP. II.

TEXT.

CHAP. III.

TEXT.

CHAP. IV.

TEXT.

CHAP. V.

TEXT.

CHAP. VI and VII.

TEXT.

CHAP. VIII.

TEXT.

CHAP. IX.

TEXT.

CHAP. X.

TEXT.

CHAP. XI.

CHAP. XII, XIII, XIIII.

CHAP. XV.

TEXT.

CHAP. XVI.

TEXT.

CHAP. XVII

TEXT.

CHAP. XVIII.

TEXT.

CHAP. XIX.

TEXT.

CHAP. XX.

TEXT.

CHAP. XXI.

TEXT.

CHAP. XXII.

TEXT.

CHAP. XXIII.

TEXT.

CHAP. XXIV.

TEXT.

CHAP. XXV.

TEXT.

§

Knights Templers on the worthy Knight, DON QUIXOTS Death.

Knights of Jerusalem on DON QUIXOT.

Duke Humphrey to DON QUIXOT.

Long Meg of Westminster, to Dulcinea of Toboso.

Bancks his Horse to Rosinant.

The Aldermen of Gotam to Sancho Pancha.

The Sexton of the Mancha on DON QVIXOT.

The same upon Dulcinea Del Toboso.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

PLEASANT NOTES UPON Don Quixot.

By EDMUND GAYTON, Esq

JUVENAL.

—laetam fecit cum Statius Vrbem,

Esurit, intactam Paridi nisi vendat Agauen.

LONDON, Printed by William Hunt. MDCLIV.

To the Candid Reader.

[Page]

[Page]

Reader,

BOoks of Knight Errantry, like the Knights themselves, looke for entertainment gratis; Don Quixot did oblige the places which received him, and left his Landlords in debt to him for his acceptance of their Courtesies: His stay was not long in a place, and his Pay was the sport he made; The Castle had security for a Reckoning, and protection for the Bill of Fare; His Hosts were created Constables; His Hoastesses Countesses, and his Daughters Ladies, for the benevolence of Slippers, and Night-Caps: Oastlers were dubb'd Groomes, the Servants Squires, Tapsters Yeomen of the Bottles, and Skinkers, and so defray'd all with Acts of Grace, and conferring of Honour. He adventures now, as alwaies, with the same confidence of welcome, a Knowne Guest needs no Invitation; Reception is all he looks for, little or no Provisions. Give him now but a good Looke (for indeed his Ill-favour'd Face wants it) and it is a Feast. Smile upon him, laugh at him, and he will grow fat, with what should make you so. Rosinante looks for your Tih-hee, and you shall have [Page] his VVhi-hee; he is as freekish as if the Iack-an-Apes rode him. Sancho Pancha courts your Blanckets, and desires to be tossed from hand to hand; His Asse is for every one to ride, the more the merrier: If you give him Stable-room, 'tis well, he can feed on Thistles.

They come all like Gypsies or a Morrice, and Dulcinea is pleas'd to be Mayd Myriam; Strike up the Tabor and the Pipe, lend us but the Barne, or the Church-house,

And great Dul [...]inea, and her Knight accord,

To be Wake Lady, and a Whitsun Lord.

§

§

[Page]

To his most facetious Friend, on his Festivous Notes upon Don Quixot.

WHere others Lamps have [...]urnt long Attick nights,

With ranck Romancie cyle, to grease their Knights:

Thy nimble Phant'sie hath with ease displai'd

All the Chimera's of the Errant Trade.

Which (though with a crispe Nostrill penn'd) was done

With a Spagericall discretion:

For, while the Ore ran melting from thy Minde,

It left thy chiefe, and richer Thoughts re [...]in'd.

Mens doughty Gimcracks, thou dost (glancing) hit,

With such a sure Mercuriall aime of Wit,

It into shivers splits my quivering Milt,

To see thy Lanceere Notes so run a-Tilt.

Had thy full lines run out their Paralell,

And not been charm'd in by a warie Spell;

Thou'dst turn'd the Pyrrhick Galliard of the Times

Into inchanted Spanish-Pavin Rimes.

If solid heads may judge the Text is good,

It will improve much now, being under stood;

The Comment sets a lusty glosse upon

The high Atchievements of the metall'd Don:

The inventory of his Martiall goods;

His fits of Courage, and hot fighting Moods;

His passive valour, with his daring mind,

In dismall Rubriques on his body sign'd;

Whereof he had, if you the Adage scan,

A long ear'd burden would o'r-laid a man:

His mad mistakes, whereby we cleerly know

Th' Iberian Ajax, from Jeronymo:

His strong affection to Dulcinea's Name,

Which kindled in his Breast that restlesse Flame.

Here, Sancho Pancha proves a proper Squire,

And a true spark of the same wandring fire.

Brave Rosinante trapp'd, and pamper'd thus,

May play at Cribedge with Bucephalus;

And Sancho's Asse, (one of the golden Brood)

May feed on Roses, a restoring food.

O that some pleasant Beames would shine like these

Vpon her Cozen, the *

Cap. Jones,

Welsh Hercules!

But thou hast done enough for to engage

All the Sir Valiant Woudbees of the Age.

And while you hint, that who doth over-streine

At wild attempts, makes good Don Quixots veine:

Your Clavis makes his History to be

Theunveil'd Cabala of Chivalrie.

Chirosophus

[Page]

To the very Witty, Merry Author.

THE greatest part of scribling shavers

Are but Rehearsals by their favours;

And they that read them find this true thing,

Not one in ten writes any new thing.

But above all the dabling Traine,

The Commentator's Knave in graine;

Who farther never sooks to store him,

Then what five hundred said before him;

So be it History, or Fable.

He still serves cold meat up toth' Table.

But see, our friend defies the man

From Bodley, or the Vatican,

That shall produce one writer on

His dapper Sancho, or the Don.

Why so then. Out with't man of price,

(Fall in that will) thou breakst the Ice,

Fear'st no cut feet, nor broken shankes,

So the renown may be La Manches:

But prov'st the Annals of that high Towne,

A Comm [...]nt are on Laugh and Lye downe.

Loe here the Knight, by Cupid halled

Through thick and thin, Posteriors galled;

Posting from place to place full soare,

On two long Eares, (Squire on two more;)

Who setting out, a Helmet snatches,

Which oft in sud [...] had dr [...]n [...]b [...] Mustashes:

Sword girt on thigh, dirt-dragg'd and slabber'd,

Cold Iron sheath'd in rust, not scabb [...]r'd.

And' stead of Speare, his hand he flatters

With ravisht Pole from Barbers Platters.

With these, and dire resolves, he enters

Arm'd, or to find, or force Adventures:

With courage keen as panch of Glutton,

He spies out foe, a Flock of Mutton,

Spurrs Rosinante, up he ambles,

Where strait he makes the field the Shambles.

For Dulcineas sake to win her,

He eats, and fights this duel dinner;

For Dulcinea, who the while,

Sleeps upon bulk, or sits on stile;

For why, shee cares not much to goe,

'Cause shee wants sh [...]on to cover toe.

And (Country hot) shee weares not stock in

Of silke or yarne, to put her Hock in;

That the whole world may judge and see,

Shee canendure as well as be.

For though alone he roam about,

Yet 'tis well known, shee oft goes out—

—At Elbowes, and doth suffer hardship,

In coates rent up toth' very large-hip.

Now 'tis their fashion in Tobolo,

For damsels mendicant to goe so.

[Page]

The Itinerant Minister to the Squire Errant, on his Festivous Notes upon DON QUIXOT.

BAnisht from Pigs and Poultry by harsh votes;

And all that sounds Festivous, but your Notes,

(For, in their Kalendar my name's not found;

Who, least the spit should not, themselves turn'd round)

I scarce have laught, but with a sullen smile,

To see your Quixot acted in our Ile;

The Zelot mounted, when a crosse he spi'd,

Encountring it, as he the Windmill did:

Mistaking old Saints, and the yellow glasse,

In which they stood, for Gyants arm'd in brasse;

And then in quarters on a bed of straw,

Making the rest up with's Dulcinea.

All so toth' life, they were not much amisse,

That could believe a Metempsychosis.

But this your book can wasted spirits retrive [...]

At the first newes on't I did so revive,

As the intruding Levite does, to hear

His Pilfer'd Tithes will stand another yeare:

But when I saw the worke, its stuff and make,

I could have been a Poet for your sake.

Did but your Author live, he would bi voxt,

Your Comment was not his, as was the Text.

He that will praise it as he should, must goe

A way unbeaten yet; that is, like you,

Leave common-Play-book-Poetry that spends

The same Encomium upon any friends,

As we doe Funerall Sermons; and alone

Move in an Epicycle of his owne.

Your observations such a path have trod,

They turne old Pegasus, quite out on's rode;

And we are dry, till Rosinantes foot

Strike [...]s another Helicon to do't.

[...].

[Page]

On DON QUIXOT with Annotations.

THE famous Errant Knight of Spaine

Once more here sallies forth againe,

Remounted upon Rosinante;

Though leane his ribs, and belly gant be,

Gentle and without jadish tricks,

Whose Provender him never pricks:

Sancho likewise, that witty Squire,

On dapple followes through the mire;

The monstrous Gyant not to tame,

That lately into England came,

And lies sick, since he was brought over,

Some say at Plimouth, some at Dover:

Nor, like his neighbour Portugall,

Damsels to fright and kill us all.

His well known sword he needs not try on

Our Morefield Windmils, since the Lyon

Made a retreat into his Cage

By good hap, and would not ingage.

No new Adventure or Supply

Swels so compleat a History;

Nor is our Author a Translator,

But a Criticall Commentator:

His Notes he to the Text doth fit,

With English matching Spanish wit;

Like Coyne with Philip stampt and Mary,

Or, till divorc'd, like Kate and Harry;

Or those Pavillions powdered,

With H. and K. in Hollinshead. *

Great thankes the Mancha may him con,

Pag. 807. H. 8.

Great honour hath he done the Don;

And Dulcinea del Toboso

Hath disinchanted: Reader, know so.

[Page]

Aesop to the Knight of the Ill favour'd Face.

AS Aesop who made Birds and Beasts to speak,

Putting plaine Nature into learned Greek,

Her dimmer instinct did so well unveile,

That he taught Morals from an old wives tale;

And where as men were turn'd to beasts by Art,

Did them againe by Beasts to men convert:

So thou, considering what befits this age,

Hast brought thy Don unridled on the stage;

And with thy rayes illustrating his shade,

Hast a cleer mirrour of a night-piece made:

Whose cunning placing doth much skill detect,

To make it so far off these times reflect.

For we the common size of men out-grow

As farre above, as th' other were below.

In Arts and Arms, in our disputes and fights,

Nay in all trades almost, w' are Errant Knights.

We start up Heroes: Here a Cobler enters.

And in the next page doth a Knights adventures.

Now you shall hardly see (because he's gaunt

And poor) a draught Horse yield to Rosinant:

Who did the Knight carry as we have read,

So many miles, still better taught, then fed.

Pattent though Sancho did his belly pinch,

So disciplin'd, though gass'd, he would not winch:

Proportionably eate so many Oates.

As in his purse his Master carried Groates.

Who might not so against his Order sinne,

As to weare mony, or pay it in his Inne:

For who could mony aske of him, who did

Oblige the world by deeds, where ere he rid?

Could any Hostesse for the reckoning scold,

Who did this doughty man of Arms behold?

That Lady that would not wipe out his score,

Be sure, he'll never see her Castle more

In just revenge; for then should any Gyant

Abuse her after; he would ne'r say fy on't,

Or question him, who otherwise should feel

His anger printed by his Bilbo steele:

But Hosts and Hostesses, and Ostlers too

Were civiller, or he would make them so.

But Friend, take heed, thy Notes may doe him wrong,

Who never needed helpe of any tongue:

I only feare that you may kindly erre,

By ventring to be his Interpreter,

Since it is knowne, and by himselfe made good,

Where e'r they came. Errants were understood.

But this I thinke will that objection choke,

He is not when he' [...]read, as when he spoke;

And read he'll be, unlesse by Err [...] Knights

Like him, they're not for reading, but for fights.

Goe forth then, and lit Rosinant out-run

In his good speed, the Coursers of the Sun.

[Page]

A Trumpet before the Puissant DON.

BY your leaves friends, give way to usher on

With trunch'on pen toth' gate, this mighty Don:

I would be briefe, as truth, if any shall

Demand what's here, an Amadis de Gaul?

A Knight o'th' Sunne? or Warwicks dreadfull Guy,

(Whose famous Acts are writ in Stars on high)

Th' old King Arthur? or that feeble Fable

Of his Round Knights, sate round his rounder Table?

I answer, none of these; but one no jot

Lesse then the best of those; who? Don Quixot:

A bold Knight-Errant, that toth' very day

Atchieves as strange Adventures as all they.

Bring me a Saracen with head, and A-neck

So bigg, you'd take him for a sonne of Anak,

Or any of that monstrous brood of Gath;

(If any such the world at this time hath

Old, and decrepit growne) The Don with Lance

Against the Gyant-race doth strait advance.

Which way the victory will sure incline,

Look up and judge; the Saracen's a Signe.

Is there a Lady (who the Lord knowes how

Shee came to be so) that's imprison'd now

In some inchanted Castle, built i'th' aire,

Immur'd with Devils, moated with despaire:

That whines, and whimpers, pines for some reliefe

From her lost Knight, almost undubb'd with griefe?

Madam take courage, melt no more, but pray,

Let those salt drops descend another way.

See Quixot at the Castle Gate, in Armes,

And anger fell, vowes to uncharme your Charmes;

And spight of Hell, and what the Devils can doe,

Tilt you from all their Spels, or them from you.

Shew me a Gyant Caniball, that duels

Retired now to uncouth Caves and Cels;

Batning with humane flesh, and blood, that knowes

(Save what he eates) no other friends or foes:

Whoe's guts being all the braines he has, do's dread

That only paine, the belly ake in his head.

Let the puissant Quixot but appeare,

Arm'd at all points, and in the first Career

This monster Gyant fals; when the bold Knight

With his keen steele, to consummate the fight,

Opens his Butt'ry-Belly, sweeps all away,

And there commands an endlesse fasting day.

[Page] Whilest to the wonder of the world, and just

Trophee to Don, and his renowned dust;

His monstrous Block head shall converted be

Into a signe for some great Ordinarie.

From these adventures doth he sternely wagge on,

And meets the fiercer Lyon, or the Dragon;

The cruell Tiger, the spear'd Unicorne,

Or any humane beast of stranger Horne;

The rav'nous Beare, or the mad raging Bull,

Hee'll tame all these, give all their Belly full;

And as old Orpheus did by stones and trees,

So shall this Don make up a Dance with these.

More might be said, which if't expected be,

Enter good Don, and do't thy selfe for me.

E: D.

[Page]

On the Festivous Notes upon Don Quixot.

HAve you not seen a Hench boy lac'd all o're

So thick, you could not tell what cloth he wore?

Have you not heard the oaths of Country people,

They could not for the Scaffolds see Pauls Steeple?

Or have you heard of (happy had you been,

If I might aske you) have you also seen

Dulcinea's eyes lost in her cheeks, so that

They seem'd like Rabbets Kidneyes coucht in fat?

Reader, the same may in this book be found,

The rich Embroydery doth excell the ground.

The Text in parcels' midst the Comment seemes

Like single Strawb'ries in whole pales of Cream;

And Don's cook'd up according to the Lawes

Of his owne Country Feasts, lesse meat then sauce.

Sancho is now rewarded, and need look

No farther for an Island then this Book:

In which the Text like Land incircled, floates

'Midst the vast Ocean of this Authors Notes;

Who in his Book, like cunning Cloathiers, doth

Of Spanish Wool make the best English Cloath.

Who may not be a Poet, when the fire

Rak'd from Dulcinea's ashes can inspire?

And Rosinante, though grown old, can thus

Prove sire unto so quick a Pegasus?

Quixot, of all the brave Adventures thou hast past,

No sally was so glorious as this last:

Where though no foure arm'd Gyant thou dost meet,

Who 'stead of puddings, eates whole sacks of Wheat;

And makes the Country Neighbourhood about

Swallow, Sir reverence, what he voideth out:

Yet thou must combate with a foe, thou'lt find

More subject to each blast, the Censurers mind.

When first into the world thou didst advance,

Bound up in Past board, like thy owne Romance;

That magick Armour and Artillery,

Those strange Habiliments of Errantry

Could not protect thee like these Notes, although

Thou salliest now in paper Armour too.

But goe on boldly, Frestons charmes must end,

See here, a Disinchanter is thy friend;

Who innocent black Art, hath round thee writ

A magick circle of Festivous Wit;

Which will secure thy Fame against that Prime,

And lasting monster, all devouring Time.

John Speed

[Page]

On DON QUIXOT, published with Annotations, by my worthy friend, Mr Edmund Gayton.

FRanck Rablais with his learned Tracts of Physick,

Had made his Printers purse sick of the Tisick;

For those few Copies, which at last were sold,

Serv'd but to wipe what other Doctors foul'd.

He that by writing well hopes for repute,

Makes but himselfe the Worlds base prostitute:

Which he disdaining, vow'd to recompence

The Printer, and his Clients with Non-sence:

And that did do't; for Customers did duell,

Who first should buy the gests of Pantagruell:

Nay you'd admire, in lesse than halfe a day,

All Hist'ry vail'd to Garagantua.

Therefore my Friend, whether in Prose or Rime,

What thou hast writ is satyr to the Time;

Thou feed'st the Asse with Thistles, and with Chaffe,

To make thy selfe, and other wise men laugh.

Let not the Critiques then, thy work disdaine,

And say, thy Authors Windmill's in thy braine:

Nor yet conclude thy Pegains is Hip-shot,

Because thou'st written Notes upon Don Quixot.

Were Don alive againe, he would be vext,

To see a Comment better then his Text;

For some o'th' wits who have perus'd it. say,

Thine is not Glossa Ordinaria.

Anthony Hodges.

Vpon the second comming forth of the most redoubted Knight DON QUIXOT, and his renowned Lady the Fam'd Dulcinea del Toboso.

LAdies, prepare to entertaint

The Madam Mendieant of Spaine:

Let not her Rags offend, for you

Your selves, alasse, weare patches too:

Though out at heel, and out at Toe,

Along Dulcinea too must goe.

Don from Dulcinea will not stray,

(He runs at Sheep, but not that way)

Shee and her Knight againe doe enter,

Not arm'd for any new adventer;

But that shee may receive from you,

The honour of a second view.

At first this great and famous Dame,

In English vamps translated came;

And being you know a Coblers Daughter

'Twas proper worke for a Translater:

[Page] But then 'twas fit, there should be next,

A Comment to so darke a Text:

For who without it could discover,

How shee should e'r deserve a Lover?

But 'tis to great Dulcinea's glory,

Shee passes every one in story.

From Spaine and from Toboso too,

With halfe a Smock, and ne'r a Shot,

Shee's come again to visit you,

As Lady Errants use to doe;

For 'tis their custome, those that make

Them welcome, they will ne'r forsake.

And Sanoho too, that doughty Squire,

Attends Dulcinea thorough the mire;

Through thick and thinne, o'r hedge and ditoh,

The trusty Squire goes thorough stitch:

'Tis a hard taske to wait upon her,

But the more hard, the greater honour.

Easy Atchievements are not nam'd,

'Tis hardship makes adventures fam'd.

The Island, he expects, no doubt

Is very hard to be found out:

But Sancho, if't be any where,

Thou'lt find the promis'd Island here.

The Comment ('cause thou'st little wit)

Believes the Isle of Silly's it.

But Don, I doubt, will scarce be found

To keep within the Comments bound.

If hunger pinches, out he goes,

And makes a break fast on his Foes.

For having first his Armour put on,

He streit goes forth, and routs the Mutton;

Then to Dulcinea comes he post,

Laden with spoiles; shee rules the rost.

If any Gyants him oppose,

(As oftentimes he meets with those)

He then his passive Valour showes,

And gallantly receives their blowes;

And 'tis an argument of great

And daring courage to be beat.

Yet let Dulcinea name but bread,

And streight you heare a Windmil's dead:

And were that Gyant ten times stronger,

There's no resisting against hunger.

That breakes stone wals you know; how can

A wooden Gyant hold out than?

And if nor wood, nor stone, how shall

We keep him in a Paper wall?

That cann't confine him without doubt,

For l [...], already hee's come out.

William Taylor.

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DON QUIXOT.

[Page]

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

The first containes whence our Knight Errant came,

From an old house; that is his first known Fame.

Then it discovers, if you farther look,

That he did nothing rashly, but by Book

Of Errantry; and upon that he wanders,

Hoping to get a Name as great as Scander's.

TEXT.

THere lived not long since in a Village of the Mancha, the Name whereof I purposely omit.] Why our Author doth purposely omit the name of the Village, where this Knight of famous memory did live, is easily smelt out, even this, that he might make the greater search after it. The place of Homers birth is yet a challenge upon Record, and the head of Nile being undiscoverable, breaks many a mans braine to find it out. Tennariffe and Pen-Men-Maure, are Mountains whose tops are obscured by their heights, and herein he hath politiquely out-gone our Country-man Tom Coriat, who indeed was borne in Zomersetishire (as the ingenious Hoskins hinteth in his merry Poem.)

[Page]

Puer erat expers artis,

Et cum fabis, & cum fartis

Sommersetti satus.

But certainely he had been far more eminent, and a grander search made after him no doubt, if he had been pleased to have concealed his Natalitiall Town of Odcomb, and left the world upon enquiry.

To pile up in their Halls old Launces, &c.] This description of his house is in short the very same with an ancient Justice of Peace his Hall, a very dangerous Armory to be toucht, like Pauls Scaffolds, Monumentally standing, because none dare take them down: he proceeds not unlike the Welch Inventary, but it is not so large, nor so good, Sow's Babys in Spain being a meat for the house of Austria, and not garsionable by the Manchegans, though ennobled by the residence of Don Quixot. His Wardrobe not much exceeding the Major of Quinboroughs, though for the thrift lesse notorious. The Frugality of the Canvasse back to the Velvet fore-body, being not then known at Madrid, and so could not possibly arrive at the Mancha.

He had in his house a Woman about forty yeares old, &c.] His Family (himselfe included) like that of the Arke, two and two, Male and Female, but not of so many persons by halfe, yet here was as great Beasts. I do not read that the Don did ever augment his Number, though his Neece was under twenty, and himselfe (as is supposed) by the swelling of his Lip of the Austrian Family (somewhat removed,) or at least of the race of the Jews, as appeares by his Errantry, which is but a neater word for wandring: unto whom it was, and yet is lawfull to match within their Tribes.

He was an early riser, and a great friend of Hunting] Now you perceive the reason of his continence, he was an early riser; That indeed made not much for it, but withall a friend to hunting, that did it. Our Don was a dedicated Vassall to Diana. ‘Otia si tollas periere Cupidinis arcus.’ Hunting Speares and Javelins are not of Cupids Quiver, nor will I attribute this Costivenesse (as to the flesh) to his yeares, being on the worse side of forty, as they say, or to his withered face, or dried flesh, which may render him suspected for an Eunuch, but purely to his industry and love of manlike sports;Sentonce. Vnto which, without doubt, whosoever totally devotes himselfe, cannot be guilty of effeminacy

He made away many Acres of Land to buy him Bookes of that kind.] We have a Proverbe (but the Spaniard have two for one) That a foole and his money are soone parted; It seemes our Knight (pardon the application) made his Lands Errant before himselfe, and dub'd his Acres first, so that what he did afterwards was but in pursuance of his Lands that went before, and so made himselfe a Wise-Acres. Laugh not too soon at our Spaniard, unlesse you can acquit your selves countrymen of as great a folly. Are not Books of this kind as well bought as those of the Philosophers stone? And pray what difference in the price? How much good gold hath been fired, out of whose ashes yet the young Phaenix never rose? What did Banckes spend in Coales do you thinke? How much Terra was Damnata? How many Lordships sold? besides the inestimable losse of Time and Braines, to purchase [Page] this empty name, and sound the Philosophers stone? There is not of all that expencefull madnesse so much left for profit or recreation, as the History of that Quixo-Philosophy, or Philosophers, unlesse what is most admirably Satyriz'd by our Father Ben (of eternall memory) in his Play of the Alchymist: ‘Spectatum admissi Risum teneat is Amici?’ Which would move laughter most, our Dons encountring his Windmill, or his Lordship at the Furnace? Being Subtle, Face, Lungs, and all: Bestow a brace of tassled Caps upon them both, and so exeant.

He did not like so much the unproportionable blows which Don Belianis gave and tooke.] Our Don is not so much transported with Belian is his Blowes as a passionate Butcher of our Nation was, who being at the Play, called the Greeks and Trojans, and seeing Hector over-powred by Mirmydons, got upon the Stage, and with his good Battoone tooke the true Trojans part so stoutly, that he routed the Greeks, and rayled upon them loudly for a company of cowardly slaves to assault one man with so much odds. He strooke moreover such an especiall acquaintance with Hector, that for a long time Hector could not obtaine leave of him to be kill'd, that the Play might go on; and the cudgelled Mirmydons durst not enter againe, till Hector, having prevailed upon his unexpected second, return'd him over the Stage againe into the yard from whence he came.

Many times he did fall at variance with the Curate, &c.] As great an occasion of quarrell was this of a brace of Students, who kept short of the Dividents of their Colledge Fines (for that was meat for their betters) while their Seniors were sharing that money, walkt in their Grove, (taking the fresh aire without any contradiction of Superiours;) At last one makes a supposition, If thou or I now should happily find a purse of Gold, how should we divide it? They were, you must conceive, of different degrees, one Master, the other Batchelour of Arts. The Master of Arts, like the Lion, asked the greatest part. The other said, no, Simul occupantes aequè Dividentes: Equall purchase equall share. The Master would not forgoe his priviledge of seniority, the Junior insisted upon his Title of halfe; at last it grew so hot that they fell to Cuffs, and bang'd one another devoutly, untill, weary of their blowes, they began to examine each other of the ground of their falling out, which was no other than about the divident of a purse of gold, which was never yet found.

That the Cid Ruydiaz was not to be compared, &c.] To the Knight of the burning Sword? What wouldst thou have said, if ever it had been thy fortune to have adventured into England, and seen the Knight of the burning Pestle, who carried all the Ladies before him: Or if that other Knight of the same Nation had ever come to thy eares, whom I may call the Knight of the high Scurrado, or the Spouting-Pestle, by name plaine Captaine Iones? Certainly Bernardo Del Carpio (though of greatest esteeme with thee) should not have been in the same leafe of the Book in the Diary and Register of valiant men: Besides, this Nation (for I cannot give all Heroick actions to the Spaniard) have produced names as high as Hercules. What I pray was Chinon of England, or the Foole transform'd? Bevis of Southampton, [Page] and Guy of Warwick, or that Cripple-errant of famous memory, who stole the golden weather cocke from Pauls steeple, before it was a Tower, which was the highest piece of desperate valour that ever was performed, but that his piety is as notorious as his sacriledge, for with the same weather cocke, he built Cripple gate; which untill this day retaines his name.

Rosinante a horse of labour and carriage.] I wonder, the Don being so neer neighbour to the sunne, did not borrow some of his horses names, but indeed they did most properly belong to the knight of the same name. He chose rather by a figure, the nomination of his Bucephalus, and by a Husteron Proteron (as we say in English) of putting the cart before the horse, he succeeds very happy in the title, which in English makes not so high a sound as in Spanish, but will doe indifferent, Latpackasad, being in senso the very same, though not in sound with Rozinante, though our horses doe not take their names for adventures, like the Dons, yet they have their names from their presenters; if a friend bestow his horse, he passes his name with him, & by that means, the names of many worthy persons (who have not left succession behind them) are continued in the race of their gifts. It would be a pretty imployment (for there is little work now for Heralds) to blazon those gentile horses coates. There is an able fat farrier herald, somewhat Northward, whom it would (being the trades are already met in him) very excellently become, unto whom I leave it.

DON Quixot of the Mancha] It was as small a labell, and as modest, as any Knight could first have vent red on into the world with; for lower matters the Empire of Trapesonda, having shaken hands with their names, and not retain'd so much as Don Quixot of Quixada, or Quesada, which was rather a syncope or diminution to his name, being more at length naturally, or rather literally, though in account lesse: some of our Nation have accounted it more honourable to owne a bastardy, by assuming the name of the Lord that gat them to an Annuity, then to hide their mothers shame, under the plausible covert of their supposed Fathers.

I am the Gyant Caro Culiambro] A very good name for a Gyant, but I will tell you what will fill ones mouth as well, even one of our English Gyants, as Sheildabrawne, Colarobrawne, Legomutton, Rasherobacon, and many more of this last sword bearing race, who by prowesse of the Captaine Ioneses of our times, the Marriots, the Woods, the Stubbinses, and other knights of the round Table, have been hackt, hew'd, wriggled and utterly confounded.

He call'd her Dulcinea del Toboso] Aldonsa Lorenso, strangely Anagrammatiz'd into Dulcinea del Toboso, but Schoolemasters talk Latine by the rule, and Princes by instinct. Therefore in contemptum Anagrammaticorum, Aldonsa Lorenso shall make Dulcinea del Toboso. For as the French care not for the quantity of syllables, so we Spaniards care not for the transposition of letters; I shall conclude this Chapter with a reply of Don Gondamore, Country-man to our DON. Condamore was talking in the Latine tongue with King Iames, and the King speaking exactly, Gondamore tooke liberty to expresse as he pleased whereupon the King not enduring the Peace should be so oft broke before his face, desired Gondamore to spare Priscians head for the future; but the [Page] DON was quick with his salve, and told his Majesty, that he spake Latine like a King, free and without rule, but the King spake it like a Schoolemaster.

CHAP. II.

THE second Chapter he attempts, but oh!

Unto his griefe, he findes no wisht for Foe:

Wherefore deceiv'd and wearied, he is forc'd

Without an enemie, to be unhorl'd,

Yet not disarmed wholly Cap-ape;

For in his Helmet he sleeps valiantly,

Though with a Castle he would needs begin,

Poor Rosinante was glad it was an Inne.

TEXT.

AND therefore acquainting no living creature with his intentions] No living creature; it cannot be so, for certainly Rosinante was of the counsell, and enjoin'd much secrecy. For the Don might tell his tale to his horse without danger of discovery, though he might heare of his tale againe for it: (as the English proverbe hath it in another expression.)

He was not yet dubb'd Knight.] This was a horrible scarre, and enough to have crush'd our cock of the game in the egg. It was strange he did not instantly unsheath his owne sword, and crosse it over his owne pate, and having impressed a Knighthood on his forgetfull noddle, spoke the words himselfe, rise up DON Quixot, &c. or what if he had submitted, and falne on his knees to Rosinante (a horse formerly of very good carriage,) the Brute could have done no lesse, then bounded immediately, and laid his hoofes upon his Helmet (which was as neer his head, as they could come) and it might have passed, and the DON ever after accounted himselfe of the Equestrian Order, which is the order of Knighthood.

As touching white Armour.] It is strange; once out and ever out: what a mischance was this. ô for a chalke hill! it would have whitened him and Rosinante, as if they had been Knight and horse of the vail of white horse. The first Knights that ever were heard of in white Armour, and on white horses, were (as I take it) Castor and Pollux, who though they never shine together in the Heavens, yet at one great battaile, wherein the Romans got the victory, they were discovered to come into the field, and doe wonderfull execution, and then vanish streight to their Orbs in the Heavens: and ever since, those mares that saw those white horses, have had colts with starres in their heads.

He did parle with himselfe on this manner.] Of these kind of Soliloquies, or selfe-discourses, you shall every where rather see then heare: what man almost is it that you meet alone, if he be thoughtive or cogitabund, but his lips, his eyes, his hands, goe as well as his legs. If one should, or could [Page] but spare his time, to observe the severall postures of passengers in the street; he might after a little curiosity of intention, know most mens businesses by the motion of their lips, and discover their intentions by the signes in their faces: whether the businesse were matter of law, love, debt, anger or jovialty. Such agreeable indications every face doth betray, that in spight of the verse we may say, fronti summa Fides, every mans passions are written in his forehead, and if women might be commanded to goe unveil'd, much more would be knowne, then they would have willingly discovered. It were very good policy in times of warre, suites, or jealousie, to learne to undecipher mouths, lookes, and gates; there is more to be got out of them, then out of this extaticall speech of the Dons, to which Rosinante prickt up his eares more from the sense of his sides, then the sense in the oration.

Written in the Annals of the Mancha.) The Annals of the Mancha, are in as large a faire Foolio, as those of Goteham, and are kept in very safe custodie, few Travellers have had the favour to see them; Tom Coriat had a view, and to a wise man it is enough. It is very difficult now, unlesse recommended from some great personage, to have admittance to the sight of them: there must be two certificates at least, of the family of the We be three, who are of the Quorum alwayes.

There stood at the Inne by the door, two young women adventurers likewise.] These I beleeve had been dubb'd and dubb'd againe, and had devises in their Targets, for hotter adventures then ever the Don assaied; it was strange that the Don, (but that strong imagination is irresistible) being gaunt, (not Iohn a Gaunt I meane) but fasting, and therefore of more exquisite sense, had not smelt out their profession from the evaporations of their saltpits: or that Rosinante had not by a merry neighing, discovered the approaches of two over-ridden jades. Their standing at the Inne door, was a sign of themselves and the house, and (though they were bound for Sevil) that their behaviour was not so.

Checking Rosinante with his bridle] Rosinantes head-strongnesse, is here remarkable, and shewes that a beast knowes when he is weary or hungry, better then his rider. These naturall offerings at an Inne door, gazings, and head writhings, are most proper symptomes in the creature, of an appetite or longing for Limb-ease, and tooth motion. A way bit then, and not a bit of way more. The Knight (for all Knight errants, understand all languages, whether vocall or naturall) apprehended Rosinante, and taking pitty of the croakings of his empty guts, to which his owne sometime sympathetically answered. He spurr'd up to the Inne door, full upon the Donsellas; which Item, Rosinante tooke the more patiently, because he was within the comfortable smell of provender: but O the hogheards horne! 'twas an ill winde, and blew no body good; for by this meanes it came to passe, that Rosinante must heare the other speech, which came from a head as empty as his belly, in which was nothing but wind, just both alike.

Discovering his withered and dusty countenance] This souldier-like visage of the Dons, brought the Donzellas to a stand. Ven [...]s did not so much despise Vulcan for his lame leg, as she was enamor'd of Mars for his manlike face. I have heard it reported of an understanding Lady of our Nation [Page] (whose opinion being asked concerning a very beautifull and streight limb'd gentleman Usher, how shee liked the owner of that face) that shee replyed thus presently, (Ladies wits being best upon the sodaine,) Pish, what doe you tell me of a face; I say, a Venus face, and Mars his truncheon, never met together in the same person.

They could not containe their laughter] Continence was rare in any thing, as wel as laughter with them, yet their rude carriage, shewed that they were tender hearted; for they had been of very hard hearts, if they could not have laughed at him, and I believe, had the Don made experience, he would have found them thorow good natur'd, and as ready to lye downe as to laugh.

Mine Host, a man of exceeding fatnesse.] I did not think that mine Hosts of the Mancha, or indeed of any place of Spaine, had been of such vast dimensions, certainly he was transported out of Holland, or great Britany; this is the first Rhodomont ado in Re that I have met with; but yet considering him to be of the Commark of St Lucars, and no lesse theevish then Cacus, if he stole and eat as much provision as that beast-robber did, his magnitude is no wonder. Allow us but in Spaine the beasts, and I will grant the Host a thiefe, and as fat: untill then I suspend my beliefe.

Rozinante, one of the best pieces that ever eate bread.] Mine Host viewed the Brute very narrowly (as if he meant to buy him) he need not have gone round him, to his great paines; for the horse was transparent, and rather a beast that had never eat a piece of bread, then as the Don expressed it.

The strangest and most pleasing figure to behold.] It was well that the Don was pleased to tell his name, for by his face they should never have known him; his Helmet being on, he was a hard head, and when that was off, he was a Cods-head.

And then the valour of mine arme shall discover.] The valour of that part, was not the thing his courteous undressers expected, who rather wished him steel to the back, then as it fell out to be to his head. It was impossible to salute him without losse of teeth; this sad apprehension of their particular defraudings, made them melancholly at present, but they are resolved, since they can make him no sport, to make sport of him.

One of the Ladies served his turne in that.] She was enforced to Caw him, as they doe young Iack dowes, and every bit she administred, he gap'd full wide, as the Helmet would let him; which if it had not streigthned (and that very much) the widenesse and capacities of his jawes, the poor Iohns would have past whole without slicing, and with more ease down his throat then a cormorant dispatches Minnows.

[Page]

CHAP. III.

He must be dub'd, or nothing will availe,

Mine Hoast the Order gives, Carriers the Haile;

Stones in such number, that our Knight might be

Not of the Mancha, but à Lapide;

And that poore Rosinant might stoutly stir,

The Hay and Oat-booke was the Register:

Where on Record stands scor'd our dreadfull Knight

For want of pay, for fourteen pence a night.

TEXT.

ANd being thus tossed in mind, he made a short beggerly Supper.] Aurae sacra fames: What will not thirst of honour make one drinke, or not drinke, eat, or not eat? Here it almost made our Don lose his share of the poore Iohn, as many a Noble Duke Humphryan, (for honour-sake meerely) because he would not beg, hath walkt manfully from twelve till three in contempt of three-penny Ordinaries, wondring at the gluttony of the Age he liv'd in, thinking all the time of that melancholy motion of the rare course of Lescius his dyet, or else why it were not possible to so habituate Nature, that by degrees she might need no other sustenance then the Camaelion; the ingeniousest Wits in the world have been such who feed exilest, or most slenderly: The woman, who was sustained only by Flowers, (the scent I mean) beside the sweetnesse of her Fare, no doubt had a nutriment most Hyblaean, and had her Thighs been well surveyed, they were as well laden as the Bees, as you have it in the Poet, Crura Thymo, &c.

The Inne-keeper seeing his Guest at his Feet.] You see Pride will have a Fall. These high thoughts brought the Don to his Knees, happily on a Cushion of Rosinantes own or during (for It was in the stable.) It was well the Knight was the Votary, and mine Host the Idoll, otherwise had mine Host been on his knees, neither Rosinante (though formerly used to burthens, nor Asinego his Master would have been able to have raised the Elephant.

Mine Host as was noted before was a great Gyber.] It is ordinary for Hosts to be khavishly witty, the latter being a set-off to the former. Much of a reckoning goes current sor the Drolery of the maker of the Bill. There is a kind of Leachery in neat and ingenious cozenage. It doth find mercy before a Judge, and applause amongst most, but this was a great Giber, but not so great as to lose a friend for a jest, that was the way to undo himselfe, no, no, the Authors Counsell runs upon his Corpulency, just as one said of an Over-Obese Priest, that he was a great Arminian, grant (quoth a second) that he be an Arminian, Ile sweare he is the greatest that ever I saw. Just as mine Host is here, so is every Host almost upon all rodes of the Temper with his Guest; he is a Knight errant with a Knight errant; Are you a Cavaliere, he is a Cavaliere; are you a Statist, he Statist too; but that they are too fat commonly; they are the veriest Apes in the World, and to be [Page] short, generally Bonii Socii, and very Sosia's: Like guest, like Landlord.

The Ceremonies requisite should be done.] It is concluded to dub him Knight. This order of Knight errantry is very ancient, when there were but three persons in the World, one was of this Order, even Cain, who for the murther of his Brother was a Fugitive and a Vagabond over the whole earth, a larger extent than our Dons peregrinations; he had beside this marke another alike to our Knight-errants, that none should slay him, for you never read of a Knight-errant that was slaine in the whole world.

Have you any money? he answered not a blanck.] We have had many orders of Knighthood, plaine Knights, Knights of the Bath, Knights and Baronets, Knights Bannerets, Knights Templars, Knights of Ierusalem, Knights of Windsor, and Knights of the Post, which two last were very much like the Knight errants, for they could reply to the Question as quick as the Don, and as point blanke.

Mine Host rejourned, he was deceived.] Mine Hoast, I believe, was of that wise and provident house of the Iagas, where this Maxime is intailed upon the Family, not to be cut off under an Anathema of the prime Parent. My son, put money in thy purse. It is good counsell for most men, but especially for Travellers, and of Travellers, especially horsemen, who (for want of heeding this Frugall principal) are oft times reduced to Footmen, and leave their Rosinantes in the stable, where their heads swell bigger a great deale than the Loggerhead their hosts that would not confide.

They car [...]ied with them a little Casket of Oyntments.] I believe the weaponsalve, or Unguentum armarium was first devised by these Knight-errants, who having neither money, wit, nor friends, but Imaginary (and reaping sometimes the fruits of their folly, knocks, and cuts) wisely contrived this subtile cure of dressing the Sword or Battoone, (for they miscarried both at dull and sharpe) which was only a cloathing of it warme, and by a miracle called Sympathy, now crumbled into a Powder, the wound was healed, as it would have been without it; for cut any Knight-errant, and let it be a flesh wound, and the Balsame of the part (without the help of Iohn Pontaeus,) kept from the aire and cleans'd, shall cure it selfe. I do not herein study to gratifie the Chirurgeons grand enemies to the Sympathetick powder, or any other cheap remedy, but betwixt jest and earnest I partly believe, and not believe my selfe Aruspex aruspicem, they can construe without the help of the Book.

In some slight and subtle Wallets.] This quaint device of the Wallet hath been put in practice in more plentifull Countries than that of the Dons. Some thrifty Sirs have thus conveighed their Brutes, and their own Provender, and for dispatch sake, having far to ride, to avoid the turmoile of Innes, Hosts, Chamberlaines, and Ostlers, have made choise of a greene grasse-plat, and joyn'd Commons, the same parcht pease sufficing for two Creatures at once, the rationall, and irrationall. But this device (as subtle as it was) hath met with misfortunes, for one more frugall than otherwise, having at his Inne at night (for the device is but for a day-shift) left some inconsiderable snip of a craggy rack of mutton, gave order to his man by a winck (which was his usuall way to have his miserable commands executed) to cloak-bag the slender residue, whither also his over-provident servant (to please his Master) poured in the remaines of the pottage, and so made up a full adage of Parsimony.

[Page] To watch his armes in a great yard.] The Don is become Dragon to his owne armes, more Dragon in them farre, then out; but more watchfull out, then in them, for he often slept on horseback. Now like a poor snake, but yet cristed still (though stript) he doth attend the Cisterne, mounting himselfe, and hissing furiously at any thing that comes neer; that hissing he had not learnt of the snakes, but of some other creature (as watchfull) who sav'd sometime the Capitoll. He is now in this posture, both St George, and Dragon too.

What cannot Poets and skelle painters doe? or rather as we have it in the English author;

—If Homer wou'd,

Hellen had been a hagge, and Troy had stood.

An Host (a small wit) had bargained with a humorous painter (there are many of them) for the new drawing of his signe, which was to be that of St George and the Dragon, and most earnestly and often, even to the Interruption of his worke, importuned and intreated him to have an especiall care, that he drew St George with a most killing countenance (to the life) and ever and anon, renewing his desire, the easily provok't painter, looked very uncouth upon mine host, and taking off his pencill from the frame, said, mine Host, be quiet and leave your counsell, or the Devill take my wife) if I doo not make the Dragon kill St George. Which stroke such a terror into his landlord, that he left the place; and the painter not well compos'd, untill a cup of sack, and a pipe of Spanish, had reconciled him to mine Host and his businesse.

He walked up and downe the Cisterne very demurely.] No such eyes, or better, did Ajax cast upon Achilles Armour, and such a speech, or better, did Vlysses make before the assembled Greeks, upon such, or a better subject. I wonder the Author here, did not make the Don speaking somewhat, either verses or prose, unlesse he was afraid of running into Ovids fancy; but what he would not, others will: And therefore you may imagine, the Don after many perambulations, and applications to his Armes, opening his owne, and his mouth, a great question, which were most enlarged for the delivery, these ensuing verses, which being above Hexameter, full sometimes, and sometimes over-makes, that rather sounding verse, we call Elbowick.

The Dons speech to his Armes.

Lye here my Armes by day, I am thy Armes by night;

Though thou my glittering Arms, then I thy Arms more bright:

'Tis not the Moon that shines, but thy well scowr'd reflection

By which I walk, more then mine owne complexion.

Thou on that Altar ly'st, and I thy Priest walk by,

What ever comes neer thee, because neer me, must dye.

When on this body thou art girt, safe is thy Don,

And safe, my trusty Armes, shalt thou be off, or on:

[Page]None dare approach this Altar, whereon sleeping lies

His fate: Fore-warn'd, who comes in Armes-way dies.

He overthrew the Carrier to the ground in such a taking.] He conquers as quick as Caesaer, Comes and O'recomes. Though the place of this first defeat was ignoble, (it being the horse-trough) yet the manner of the sally was gallant, it was upon a full carreere, who if he had drank (as his Mules should have done) no doubt he had not falne so sodainly, with this one brush. But here he lyes, the Monument of desperate unwarinesse, who could not speak to a Knight, and a souldier of the same nature, for a little fresh water, and for his mules too, who were somewhat allyed (but upon the worst side) to the guardian of the Cifterne. But as soone as he had laid the carrier on the ground, where lay his noli me tangere (his armour,) treading on his presumptuous breast, for abusing his Corslet, he takes up the Armes, not much unlike Anaeasse frighted, ‘Arma amens cepit, nec sat ration is in A [...]mis.’

Soone a [...]ter, another Carrier without knowing,] Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula caeu [...]um. It is good for all professions to have a little smatch in the Accedens. But the Carriers are like their Mules, not to be turn'd out of the way, and so ruin'd by the same hand, of the same Muleasses: you find them (like their Brutes, nose in arse), not revocable to be men againe of this World (as they say) but by the noise of their pack-Mules bels. Great honour in this encounter was done to Dulcinea, who twice provoked, twice was propitious to her Votary and Lord.

Their fellowes raine slones upon QUIXOT.] Ne Hercules contra duos; the hardy Knight breakes, nay, out-does the Proverbe, and is an Hyper-Hercules; for I dee not remember, of all the labours of Hercules, that he ever encountred a showre of haile-stones. Here he shewed undaunted courage, and extraordinary activity. How snakelike he gathers, and incircles himselfe, under the covert of his Target, which was so peal'd with stones, and rung so loud, that the Don was not much unlike a rattle snake, that Politick Sir under the Tortoise shell, nor he that was shewn for the Fish, ever lay in so streight, a round he takes a tile volant in the very hole, where the pegg of wood uses to be, and bearing it on the end of his Javeling, encounters stones as thick Atomes, which flew about his eares; at that time (if ever) miraculously preserved, for those nobler pendents, which Dulcinea meant to hang there.

As he had read in the Ceremoniall book of the Order.] The creation, or installation rather of this Knight Errant, or rather instabulation (for there was no Chappell in the house) yet it might very well be, that the Chappell, as in other places, might be converted into a horse quarter) This Ceremony, I say, is farre short of those of the Garter, or of the golden Fleece, (though of the same continent with this latter) or those of the Knights of Malta. If the Formalities were well compared, they would more resemble these new Orders of the Tityrie-Tues, the Fellow Cues, the confederates, the Dead Boyes, the Tories, the Iohn Dorians, or the late Ranters, or the Hectors, whose rites and customes, were never fully executed (like [Page] these of the Don) without a [...]ol [...]sa, or a Molinera, in plaine English, a whore or so, for creature-comfort, as they call it; or as the Hectors, for Carnelevation. These Knights, (like the most generous of creatures) sight stoutly in view of their females, and 'tis well knowne how a dray-horse (though well laden) will forget his burden, and pluck vigorously and villanously too, if a Flanders Mare were in the wind.

Alwayes murmuring something betwixt the teeth as if he prayed.] I wonder the words of Consecration were not expressed: it may be because mine Host could read no otherwise, then was in the provender book; unto which, if he had literally kept, it would have made more for the dubbing of Rosinante, then the Don. But whosoever hath heard of the Canonization of Raviliacks Dagger, or the Benediction of Faulks his dark and Lanthorne, will say, that the ultra-marine Ceremonies, are singular and high, and therefore, once againe (as the Dutch men drank at Abingdon) I will presume upon the Hesperian fancy, and recruit the defect, which mine Host if he had received, no doubt would have recited.

DON Quixot's Ceremony.

O bend those knees, that only now must kneel,

And only now surrender up that steel,

Which on thy neck and shoulder thou shalt feel.

You must note, that the sign was in Taurus and Gemini.

This bang upon thy neck, this shoulder-thwack,

Take from thy Prelate, who doth charme thy back,

With these crosse wasters, from all blowes, and black.

Thy old Toled' from hilt to point upreare,

Horrour 'ith hilt, death on the point appeare,

And from the blade, fly lightning every where.

Thou Target, none of these from Heaven throwne,

(Yet broke as those) repell the shot, the stone,

Arrowes and speares, and sheild all blowes from one.

Thou spurre-royall, which art of truest steel,

Let Rosinants sides by thy advisos feel,

When he must charge, retreat, bound up, or wheel.

Thou Murrion bound in mystick ribbins close

Vnto his neck, let no Inchanters loose,

Be by day Helmet, by day night cap, and noose.

The Ladies Votes or Auspicies.

Let virgin hand,

Tolosa.

not us'd to handle blade,

Nor any naked Thing, be not afraid

To gird thy whinion to thy trusty Thigh,

Whence stoutly draw; be happy, and be high.

Molinera puts on the spurre.

Thus on my knees, (on which Sir Knight you ought

To be to Ladies) I the spurr have brought,

(Which you ought also give) if a geud Knight

In Scotch land 'ere you fortune have to fight.

The Knight intreated to call themselves Lady Tolosa, Lady Molinera.] This [Page] done, as at all Creations, there ought to be some Recreations, the Ladies lookt to have been more than nominally dub'd, they curtesied him, but he Curtizaned not them, but what he failed of was supplied by the Carriers, who had not cast all their stones at the Knight, but had some left for the Ladies.

CHAP. IV.

Got from the Inne he lost his way almost,

Yet wonne the title of the Knight o'th' Post:

The Whipping-post I meane, where John Haldudo

Did slash his boy (as many Masters do-do)

Poore Andrew it had better been for thee

Thou'dst ne're been rescued from the killing tree.

Thou wert repriev'd but to be surer hang'd

Vp by the heeles: But Don himselfe was bang'd;

A shrewd misfortune to our Errant Sir,

But who can help't? 'twas fortune de la guerr.

TEXT.

YET Cou [...]sell, that he should ever carry about him money and cleane shirts.] Verbum sapiento satum. Application is the life of Doctrine; wherefore our Don (not such a Foole as some make him) nor yet a pin the worse for this action, Faces about, and would home, and carry Tom Fooles Token with him; and though he had not heard of the decision, no doubt but his apprehensive soule had found out that there was something warmer than two shirts, and resolved it within himselfe to be Three. Wherefore he now determines, after long deliberation (which is best before great resolves) that he will neither be lowsie, nor starve all the time of his Travell; which prudent course Rosinant liked well, and merrily tript it homeward, or else he must have pickt sallets upon the rode-Common, and grazed gratis like the geese.

He saw a Mare tyed unto an Oake,] I believe Rosinante was a Gelding, or else a stallion super-annuate, otherwise this distressed Creature, at the Oake, might have mov'd him to some horse-errantry. But that service cannot be expected upon Hay as Provender; He that eates well does his worke well; had Rosinante mounted the Mare, and raised his Knight a by-mounted Chevalier, no doubt but it had caused a new Frontispiece to the Book, and the Don had been cut a story higher. Had that Lady seen him which saw the Brewers horse at the same exercise with the Cart and Barrels at his back (whence, by the way, Beere first learned to run a tilt) she would, no doubt, have said as much for Rosinante as the Dray-horse in his full careere, that he would have made a brave bedfellow had he but two legs.

The other beholding such an antick to hover over him.] Here is an Epitome in the Don, and the Master correcting his boy of Bridewell and Bedlam, only the Don hath grasse for Litter, and is allowed the use of a horse, which few Furiosos (except Orlando) though of the best quality, ever had before.

[Page] How much (quoth Don) did his Master owe him?] The Don was an unfit Umpire or Judge in this case, in my opinion, and too strict upon the Master, if he had remembred how he quit scores with mine Host; but I had imagined, by this nimble question, that he would have shared with the boy, had the Reals been numbred, and saved the journey of returning to his own house.

All is well, quoth Don Quixot, let the price of the shooes, &c.] Pithy and pat, it would have become the Bench: servants that have hard Masters, let them read this Decision of the Dons, it will teach them an excellent way of discount; Taile Flebotomy, or Leaching may very well be set against breathing a veine, and excoriation or fleaing the Podes, for given leather to the Pudds. If it were pleaded in the Chamber of London, I do beleeve it would have been excepted, and the boy (for his wit) set upon Record.

Replied the boies Master, I have no money.] This reply overthrows all Justice, Businesse, and Contrivance; no money, it non pl [...]sses all Sutes, Actions, and Passions, or what you will. A Lady, once requesting a Gentleman to play at Gleeke, was refused, but civilly, and upon three reasons; The first whereof, Madam, said the Gentleman, is, I have no money. Her Ladyship knew that was so materiall and sufficient, that she desired him to keep the other two reasons to himselfe.

The righter of Wrongs, and undoer of Injuries.] Never did Knight take a title so inauspitiously both to himselfe and poore Andrew, for Andrew was forced to the Oake againe, though his Indentures were once cancelled. And the Don proved just contrary in the next exploit, being the abider of Wrongs, and undergoer, I cannot say, but underlayer of Injuries.

I do also sweare the same quoth the Farmer.] There is as great Equivocation in the high shoone as the Cowle, or the men of Trade. One would have presumed the Oath both Andrew and his Master sware could not have been broke (for they mutually invoked the Rock, which is a very hard book to kisse) but herein lay the evasion or mentall reservation, when Andrew lookt for Reall payment, the Sophister his Master gave him Corporall.

Who glad above all measure for his successe.] Had Andrews picture and the Dons been taken about the same businesse (for both were high exalted) they would have made exact pieces of Heracltus, and Democritus, but Dicitur infect [...] re rediisse Domum. And the Don in this transportation was like the sleeper in the empty Theater; who comming before the Play, or Auditors, dream'd of the passages, and laugh'd, clapp'd, hiss'd, and stamp'd, as if the Players had been enter'd, Vacuo sessor plausorque theatro. Even so, and so, To Dulcinea, the Empresse of his labours, all devoires are tendred for her inspirations of speech and valour, as a man should say, briefly thus:

Blest be Dulcinea, whose Favour I beseeching,

Rescu'd poore Andrew, and his Nock-Andro from breeching.

The way which oft held Knight Errants in suspence.] This stand of the Dons makes me suspect he was a Foole; for he is neither weather-wise, nor way-wise, nor penny-wise, but in this Quadry-way he might (though ne're so valiant) be worsted, for here was foure to one.

And came with their Quitasotes.] These are over-head boone Graces, or [Page] Vardingales, a portable pent-house against the sunne; we had an old Lord (or Lady shall I say! for King Iames, when he saw him at his first comming into England, sware, old Besse was alive againe.) who used in the summer time a Fanne, and if he had transplaced his huge pok't ruffe foure handfull higher, he had been in the Toledo mode, and brought the Quitasotes into fashion in his own Country.

Such an adventure as he imagined.] The Don was extreamly mistaken, for these were (though not Knights,) [...]is brother Merchant adventurers.

More beautifull then the Empresse of the Mancha.] This is the first challenge, and Proclamation of his Ladies beauty: you shall finde him begin and end a cryer. The miserable, but not so sad a representative of many a calamity undergone, for no weightier a cause, then the beauty of a Lady. How many Ladies, have seen their servants, for the maintenance of that (perchance, whereof they are as great guardians, as Dulcinea del Toboso) perisht and lie like Philaster, or Cupid himselfe a bleeding. But this was a most high piece of madnesse in our Don, to proclaime his Ladies excellencies (if shee had them) to the World, which commonly comes not to Idolize such pieces, but if they have purses (as these Merchants) to traffick for them. Goe no farther then Gyges for the naked truth of this.

That without beholding her, you doe believe, confesse, affirme, sweare, and defend.] Most legally prosecuted I professe, to have, hold, occupy, and enjoy. But your Toledo Merchants are no fooles, they will see and know their commodities before they buy: what, a pigge in a poke? two words to a bargaine: Ignoti nulla cupido. Give me the Merchants judgements, not their leavings. But the Knight is at his sic volo, sic jubeo; Dulcinea must be ador'd, and truly shee deserved the knees of all that ever saw her, to be bowed in undissembled prayer, for deliverance from such a sight for ever after.

I request you in all these Princes names.] This need not goe for a jest of the ingenious Merchant; for Sans controversie, none live more like Princes then they doe.

The Picture of the Lady, though no bigger then a graine of Wheat.] Such rare Models, and pieces of Art, are wonderfull in these Countries, though of late; our Southerne men, have learned to cut the ten Commandements; Creed, and Pater noster in a cherries stone, and we have seen, not a Ladies face indeed, but Father Garnets in a straw, and his neck in a string.

Don Quixot all inflamed with Choler.] The Merchants sting in the taile of his speech, so netled the Don, that had Rosinante been so in place where, no ground had held him. But the beast grew dull with his ridiculous weight, and spurred up unduely (in a furrow) did not stumble (as the author injuriously sayes) for Rosinante was not used to trippe, but fell downe directly, he never offered, but fell, and oftner to the ground then his oates. And here is Quixot flowndred (man and horse, as they say) groping like Polyphem [...] without his eye. Happy Don if (like Vlysses also) he could have hid himselfe amongst the Muttons, he might then have slept in a whole skinne, which the Merchants lackey, like a Ferret, claw'd off: most ignoble enterprize. I shall conclude, for I cannot behold it any longer, with two Sympathetick lines.

[Page] O see our Lyon worried! In such denns

Suck Lyons roar, as we call Smithfield Penns.

CHAP. V.

Thinke not for all this boasting, yet to flout him,

Though h' have no launce, you'l find his wits about him.

Crip'led, 'tis true, and in a hideous plight,

(And so had laine, but for a friend all night)

Yet he resolves to stand to his Romancees,

Though on the ground he lie, and plies those Fancies.

Nothing doth grieve him, of what came to passe,

But that he rode to th' Mancha on an Asse.

TEXT.

HE was resolv'd to have recourse to his ordinary remedy.] Account not this Poeticall retirement of our Dons ridiculous, when he had no other help. It is the wisest turne and shift of passion, to evaporate griefe, through the shaking of the Diaphragme. Storme one passion with another, or as the Don excellently well elevates his misfortunes from the grosse apprehension of a dry basting, to an honourable defeat atchiev'd in the pursuance of some Heroick designe. It was enough to have deaded his high spirits, and extinguish'd this Infant History, if he too sensibly, or literally had commented upon the Bastinado: besides, the losse of his Launce, though it stuck emblematically on his sides, yet the fractures went to his heart. He that hath read Seneca or Boethius, is very well provided against an ordinary mishap, but to have by heart Argalus or Parthenia, or the dolorous Madrigals of old Plangus in the Arcadia, or the unfortunate Lover, or Pyramus and Thisbe, shall be sure never to die of the Mubblefubles. For to be acquainted with sadnesse, besets familiarity, and familiars never kill one another, unlesse the Divell be in them.

Sedatur Lachrymis, egeriturque dolor.

Urine and teares, are the great exudatories of sorrow. If the Knight did both, you cannot blame him, and wanting the due partaker of his griefe, Dulcinea del Toboso, he could not chuse but lye in a strange pickle, which Dulcinea was never, giv [...] her her due (as we give her likenesse) never I say, since she could beat a buck without a cleane taile-clout for her selfe or her friend.

Mr Quixada said his neighbour.] It had been affliction unutterable, to have owned that name, and return'd to himselfe againe. The trance of the Cobler (drunk into the beliefe) that he was a Lord, was not to be shaken off without the losse of life, once recoblar'd, he was never his owne man againe. To returne to the Letherne Apron, wax Fingers, and whistling to a black-bird, from such a Lordly dreame, it put him (when Coblars speak Latine, they have some ends) to his [...] Pol me occidistis Amici.

[Page] Non servastis (ai [...]) cui sic extorta voluptas,

Et demptus per vi [...] mentis gratissimus error.

Which thus is translated,

(Friends) of the Cobler you have made an end,

Dreaming, a Lord; I waking am a Fiend;

Oh make me drunke againe, and on my word,

I will continue drunke—as any Lord.

Mounted him on the Asse as the beast of easiest carriage.] One Creature is ready to help another, though Homo homini L [...]pus. This beast (though by nature Aurite) was never so prick-ear'd, as now to heare the brave speech of Abin-Carry asse, and the Duke of Mantua, which Rosinante took for a Por [...] mantua; the Don lay upon his belly, for the Lackey had laid upon his back so, that he was spoyled for a star-gazer, and only was fit to be recovered as his great Brother Antaeus, by smelling to the fresh earth, which gets a stomack in an instant, and so the Don had, for his guts spoke very naturally to the capacity of Rosinante, and his fellow Brute, who make all haste they can to satisfie all sides.

To whom the woman of the house said in a lamentable manner.] Of this old goodwise Pyrrha you have heard before, and of her age; now you shall know her for her adage, she was full of Saws, and one that had seene the day; she read without spectacles, and could thread a needle likewise, and see lost pins without the help of a paire of Nose-compasses; she knew what was what, I, she knew the Don's Father, and remembred the first time that he smil'd in his mothers Face, and hath a piece of the groaning Cake, (as they call it) which she kept religiously, with her Good Friday Bun, full forty good yeares unmouldy, and unmouse-eaten. Now that ever wise woman should see her Master come to this, to run a wooll-gathering, I would it were so well, but the Wooll we shall have is as much as the Devill (God blesse us) got when he shore a hog.

His Niece affirm'd the same.] This roguing Queane had watch'd her Uncle, and seen him act Ieronimo in his short shirt, and now thinking him quite lost, discovers his mad prankes to the Curate and the Barber, one of which undoubtedly she thought to inveigle.

And burnt all those excommunicated Books.] Some books more than others incline men to madnesse; these of Errantry have a strange Influence upon the minds of the Readers, (especially if they be amorous, cholerick, or melancholly persons who do study them) wherefore Cooks, Butchers, and all sedentary men, (who also are subject to the Piles) as Committeemen, Taylors, Gentile Crafts-men, Schollers over the degree of Doctors▪ and super- [...]nnuate, besides Ladies, & their Gentile-women, and Gentile-men Ushers, all such should be prohibited the reading of them. For often they commit strange matters after the reception of a patheticall story, and the Ladies going to bed full of Imagination transgresse in Fancy with Gondibert, and forget who they are under, or who is over them; There are as dangerous books as these, Broughton, Brightman, and he of Banbury, which if they were doom'd to the same fire with our Don's Library, would have sav'd many ones wit, besides their money.

He only requested them to give him some meat.] Venter Caret Auribus; The [Page] Don is now for the entertainment of great Dido, so straight they got some thickned milke, pan-pudding, and souce, such viands as they knew he lov'd, and let him eate till his bones were at rest, or (as they say) till his skin crack'd, which was an easie matter, being so batter'd as he was, and bruised: But these recruits, and sleep, will restore him.

Extend thy empty paunch unto the full,

Laden with meat and blowes, thou maiest be dull.

CHAP. VI.

No place without a visitation,

(Th' Inquisition's worse, yet two to one.)

And while Don Quixot (dreaming no such matter)

Sleeps, and refreshes his o're-tired nature;

Foure severe visitors the Study force,

(Of which th' old woman was by far the worse;)

The Barber and the Curate (learned men)

Knew what to save, but silly women, when

They have the chaire, as if they were a baking,

All to the oven must; in this sad taking

Were these rare Volumes, which they censure first,

And straight condemne, you know ill names are curst

To filthy fate; the Curate could reprieve

But few, the Barber with his Neece did strive,

And did the yielding Damsell so beseech,

That she did lay some Books under her breech

For his own use, and for that mighty blessing,

He gave the Book second Impression:

But th' old woman was most implacable,

(For she heard him jeere at old wives Fables,)

And therefore all alike must to't. And thus

Without Index expurgatorius,

Or Melius Inquirendum, O sad story!

The Books, the Books, do suffer Purgatory.

TEXT.

HIs Library the only Author of his harme.] This is a hard Chapter, like that of a Pedegree full of hard names, which to passe over with a stout silence, were unworthy a Commentator, as if it were all Parenthesis, and as well out, as in; or to give no more light then the construing book, which (of every thing, not understood by the translator) saith, it is the name of a Tree, a bird, a fish, a place, or a plant so called. No, no, being it is a criticall piece, and a censure of the most masculine and smartest Authors of Errantry, and a finall condemnation of some of them to Vulcan, we must not exfulgore dare fumum, (make a black book of [Page] what they made a light fire) give a snuffe for a flaming Taper: wherefore we lament this Incendium Trojae, the fireing of this famous Library, and in as high a fury (though not so worthy) as he for Maro's, cry out;

—Ergò ibit in ignes

Stultaque vaniloqui Flagrabit Musa Quesadae.

Which in English is thus elegantly (though not ad literam) translated.

Pox [...]on thee Vulcan, and if that won't doe,

Thy Wives Pox on thee, and Besse Broughtons too.

Which verses were made upon the like mishap, when the Annals of the famous City of Madrid, that is the acts Chivalry of the twenty four single Signiora's Combates of the two Consuls. The Turnaments of the common Consiliarii, the quarterly prizes of the Deputies of the Wards, and their seconds, the Quest-men. Besides the Annuall Amphipoliticall and tumultuary certamina, or Feasts of twice twelve societyes, every Praetorian day, with the strange Feasts of the Greenmen, Whiflers, Marshals, and his Ministers: Besides, the Navall expedition of the Gallyfoist, and many other renowned workes, were all burnt to ashes, not so much as a line surviving or escaping, in that neverto be forgotten conflagration of Father Benjaminos study; Wherein, besides these books of Infamous losse, were the severall duels, onslaughts, stormes, and military performances, of the two never to be reconciled families, (like the Capulets and the Mountchensies, Eteocleans, and Polyniceans, Dowglasses and Percies, Guelfs and Guibblins) of enraged Sr Iohn Daw, and incensed Sr Amorous La- [...]ool.

—Quis talia Fando,

Temperet à Lachrymis?

Which runs thus, but not verbatim; for I doe not tye my selfe up close to the words.

Who can these tales relate, and burning Histories,

And not contribute the Church buckets of his eies,

Or new found spouts of teares?

This digression pardon'd, I returne to the note; whence I collect, that it is not love, that alwaies makes men mad, nor griefe and pease pottage, that only swels the belly; by wofull experience we see, that by turning over such books, the vertigo hath taken the braines, (which being themselves voluminous, as you see in a Calves-head cleav'd in twaine) they are much hurt with volumes of a contrary make, especially those that are simple and foolish, whereas sage with braines is very good, and rosemary is a good Cephalick, and time, savory, and sweet marjoram, in good pottage, make excellent settle-braine. But these kinde of simples, and leaves of Errantry (though the Knights themselves have had opportunitie to be as great Herbalists, as Gerrard, Iohnson, or the I [...] Ambarvalion) yet experience, (which is the Mistresse, and must rule this rost) teaches us, that they are noxious to the braine, and if to the braine, necessarily to the head, and you know Caput malum, est Caput malorum. And so is this Chapter, a Chapter of the saddest contents that e're was made.

[Page] The old Woman returned with a holy waterpot to besprinckle, &c.] The old woman should have turn'd the bottle upon her own self, who being the very Hecuba, and unquenchable Boutif [...]u of the company, prov'd the very firebrand to this study, and had she been but sows'd out of her balneo mariae, many books no doubt had escaped, which her dry malice, or rheumatick ignorance condemned to the Ovens whole, or else by parts under apple-pyes or Fooles (on which the Don insatiably alwaies fed, and nourished à simili, admirably well) or else to more uncomely and unprofitable ends. For Mr Cutbert and Sr Roger, were mercifully inclin'd, and through their great understanding, gave many of the Books their Book, and would have but lightly sing'd some, or with a cold Iron, which this old Beldam burnt out of hand.

Commanded the Barber to fetch downe the books.] Now the Library ladder is mounted, like the the execution scaling staires, and Mr Nicholas, like old Mounsieur, toles downe the books with as little remorse, as a Carman does billets; whether in Folio, Quarto, Decimo sexto, stitch't or bound, of what Sexe, what age soever, whether printed at Anti [...]yrae, or by the approbation of the Colledge of Goteham, Cum Privelegio, or sine, down they goe, whilst the licentiat, like Mr Godcoale, at the foot of the Cart, gives ghostly counsell to some, and to others the dreadfull words of Ite malam in crucem, farewell and be burnt. For the Dons Books were not fast'ned as the Bookes in publick Libraries: then perchance these witty censurers would have permitted them to have hung in their owne chaines, in terrorem, to all Knight Errantry-scriblers for ever.

The first book was touch'd, was Amadis De Gaul.] Of the Originall of Knight-Errantry, there is much controversy. I am not of the opinion, that Amadis de Gaul was the first book of that Nation, they being supposed to be descended of the Iewes, which were Errant over the face of the whole earth, and no doubt, many books of this nature, are to be read in Hebrew without pricks: and that all others had their beginning from this, is as improbable: What thinke you of the Iliads, the Aeneads, the Frog and Rat-fights, the Pigmies and the Gyants, and the Giganto-machi, which were all pure Errantry, and of more famous and reverend antiquity; so you Amadis may

Longe sequere & vestigia semper adora;

Since that you stand for eminence in letters,

Learne manners first, and yield unto your betters.

This said the Barber is Amadis of Greece.] Amadis of Greece? why may not this be of the ancienter house, of the D' Amadisses: we have very good Authority for the Country in generall.

—E [...] quic quid Graecia mendax

Audet in Historiâ.

Graeculus esuriens in caelum jusseris ibit.

Which was further then ever any Knight Errant went, though they have been even starv'd as my Don. And for particular places, Aratus will testifie for the Cretians, that they were lyars without intermission, as he writes it to their teeth in their own language; we will therefore end this perplexed piece of controversy (as our father Ben hath given example,) [Page] who dedicating his Fox to the two Universities of this Iland, Fox-like (knowing they alwaies quarrelled for Antiquity) in a most handsome and unenviable compellation, stil'd them most equall Sisters: So of these two Brothers in Errantry, that we may not set the books together, against one another; let them be Fratres Fraterrimi: but the licentiate is not so mercifull here, as he might have been; for Amadis of Greece being the younger, was more fit to have been saved, and D'Gaul to have been sacrificed, being of the older house, which was fittest for the fire.

For he had deprived it of much naturall worth, in the translation.] Aurea haec verba. Translations are commonly the staines and shadows to their Parents, and gain only a reputation to the originall Author. Father Ben (when one unhappily mulcted for peeping into holes, he had no right to, swore he had got a clap, which he called the French Pox) was worthily wroth at the expression, and in a fume, said, why not (Sr) the English Pox? we have as good and as large, as they have any. If a disease may not be translated, why a book? Let English men write of their owne wits, fancies, subjects, disputes, sermons, Histories; Romancees are as good, vigorous, lasting, and as well worthy the reading, as any in the world. Our Fairy Queen, the Arcadia, Drayton, Beaumont and Fletcher, Shakespeare, Iohnson, Rondolph; and lastly, Gondibert, are of eternall fame; But Captaine Iones, the only unparallell Romancy, and fit to be the Legend of all Countries, and fit to be translated by forreign Nations, for the reason in the Text. But other effects we have of this wise; for would we translated nothing but books from other Nations, our very vanities, nay, vices, and amongst them our oaths, must be of an exotick extraction, and we have arriv'd unto that damnable excellency (shame to our proficiency and ability, in as various and big dialects, as the Ionick, Attick, Dorick, Hellenick, or any other) nay, as all Nations under Heaven: Country-men,

Pudet haec opprobria vobis,

Et dici potuisse, & non potuisse refelli.

If we must be translating, let us translate these vices to their proper quarters, be just, and give every Country that which is their own; sufficient will be our vices, for our punishments: wherefore to Germany, her ebriety, to Spaine her ambition; to France her levity, to Turky her Polygamy, to Greece her lies, to Rome her superstition, to Venice her jelousie and revenge, to Scotland her treachery; and so to every part what is theirs, and feare not, the remaines perchance will be more then the full meale.

Let Palmerin of England be preserv'd.] Gratias Hispane! I could kisse thy large Moor-lip, for this favour: But had you heard of Bevis of Southampton, the Counter-scuffle, Sir Eglamore, Iohn Dory, the Pindar of Wakefield, Robin Hood, or Clem of the Cluff, these no doubt had been recommended to the Vatican, without any Index expurgatorius, or censure at all.

These, to wit, books of Poetry, ought not to be burn'd.] Po [...]ts indeed, were excommun'd Plato's Common-Wealth; but yet Augustus, in the Zenith of his Empire, cherished them, and sate with them. If such abilities depresse not themselves by meane subjects, but keep up the gravity of their stiles in their due decorum, not making Corinna's of Levia's, adulterating, and estimating their fancies with unbecomming mixtures, they and their writings too, may be fit company, for the best Potentates in the World.

[Page] (Quoth the Neece) you shall doe well, to have them burned also.] This wench, was neither wise nor beautifull, nor ever had ingenious servant, who bestowed a copy of verses upon her Mopsa's face, else shee would have been more pittifull to men of this imployment, who get little (god wot) by their wits, if they cannot purchase a maides good will. If all the female World were so hard hearted, what a ruine would fall on a number of distressed wights, who have no estates left, but Physick, Poetry, or teaching a school? The gentler breasts of the virginities of London, are compassionately mov'd, if a Ballad of Iane Shore be reviv'd, or any figment new raised: where Phillis and Corydon, sadly complaine of their owne unfortunate loves; or indeed, if any Shepheard be so long, (through the unjustifiable stubbornnesse of his Amaryll) kept from his, and her desires too, for all her seeming coynesse, that poor man, he is put to that necessitie, that he will have her by hook or by crooke.

The treasure of divers Poems.] It is a booke with our school-boyes, in great request, called in the Latine Tongue, Thesaurus Poeticus. As others we have for helps of young boys, such as delitiae delitiarū, Flores Poetarum, which being collections (choice, as the Authors promised, if their judgements were alwayes in the right) out of the numerous list of the sonnes of the Quill; there may be very good use of them (as Mr Licentiat knew of the use of Postils) if the lazy or ignorant scholar, did not take the whole copy, instead of a little, to piece out his fancy; But is in Poetry, as in other thefts, give an inch, and they'le take an ell.

It should be purged of some base things.] Our age first reform'd in Poetry, and afterwards in Religion: Marhassis, I remember, was gelt, if that be English for Castratus, who is one of the quickest wits, (and a Spaniard by birth) as ever wrote an Epigram: yet he had some salt in his taile, which was not refin'd, which cals to mind, that about the time that Author came out purg'd, and made an Eunuch, a reverend Doctor had the book, and singularly commended it, as it stood now corrected and amended, for it had passed the stool of repentance, and I believe, the emasculations were some Scotch mans. Now the Doctor (for he was much taken with the pure B [...]ke) told his scholars all the filthy Epigrams which were left out, and had excellently translated them all from the copy to his head, and I believe to his heart, for by heart he had them all.

[Page]

CHAP. VII.

Our Knight awakes, perplext and very moody,

At all his losses, Iavelin, wits and study;

That Muniaton, Freston, or the Divell,

The one should be so cruell, this uncivill.

Full fifteen dayes he rested at the Mancha,

Untill by chance he met with Sancho Pancha,

Who was a credulous old fool, a man,

Who thought each Goose of Quixots was a Swan:

And sweld with hopes of Kingdoms and of Castles,

He leaves his house, and will with fortune wrastle.

Iust as you see them in the Frontispiece,

Not eggs to eggs are liker, Geese to geese.

TEXT.

WHile they were thus busied, DON Quixot cryed, here, here, valourous Knights.] As in other fires of wood or coal, you imagine you see the shapes of Men, Lyons, Horses, and other strange creatures; so by the light of this Book-bonefire (as plaine as Eteocles and Polynices in their flames were seen fighting) did visibly apprehend, he saw the most desperate Tourney that ever was performed by Knights, which raised his valourous soule from his bed to action: depriv'd he is, stout heart, of armes all, but his naturall; his launce miserably shivered, past the cure of a cunning Joyner, the Helmet in so many despicable pieces, not fit to make nailes of, yet thus bereft, only in soule, cap-a-pe a souldier, his high conceit

In praelio trudit inermem.

Soon as he waked, he fell a fighting naked.

He continued cutting and slashing on every side.] He is in the very same postures, as I knew one, who being soundly doz'd, had the charity of his conquerours to buttresse him up from the Inne to his chamber, where like my Don, he took quiet repose for two or three houres, after he awakes intollerably dry, and inflam'd i'th throat, roar'd out and stampt (supposing he had been at the Inne, not in his chamber) for the Tapster, whom loudly and often he call'd for, crying, I burne, I burne, Canns you rogue, and impatient of delay, threatens to fetch him with another Alarum, which sodainly he puts in execution, and stormes his owne glasse windowes so furiously with bedstaves, old shooes, and the like weapons, that he made a breach big enough, out of which he might have throwne the room after: And had not one of his fellow Collegioners pass'd by, and reconcil'd him to his windowes, the actions of battery would have been so chargeable, that his whole yeares pension would scarce have paid for the reparations.

[Page] His lines, pronounced by himselfe, doe ravish the hearers.] Just as much I believe, as when a Greek Oration (spoke excellently well by a boy, who stood for Election, but made by his Master) wrought upon one of the chiefe of the company, who commended the boy that spoke the Greek so exceedingly, that the Electioners (which were Scholars) induc'd by his excessive liking of that tongue, desired to know, how long he had been skill'd therein, and he answered bona Fide, 'twas well he had so much Latine, that he understood not a tittle of it, but he lik't it, because it sounded bravely. It is indeed a brave language, for a man of a full mouth, a large tongue, and wide jaws, which are good marks for a horse too, (for there is roome enough for their breath to play, and 'tis a sign also of a noble heat in any creature, where the parts are not too unproportionably extended.)

Graiis dedit ore rotundo

Musa loqui.

Greek is pronounced wrong,

Vnlesse you trole it o'r the tongue.

I have heard, that the Poets of the Fortune and red Bull, had alwayes a mouth-measure for their Actors (who were terrible teare-throats) and made their lines proportionable to their compasse, which were sesquipedales, a foot and a halfe.

The Curate would have all the rest burn't at all adventures.] Crepat ingens Sejanus. Downe goes Retont and Pellican, Sericon and Bufo. If these books had been old shirts, much might have been sav'd in tinder, enough I believe, to have serv'd the Mancha, till the Resurrection: But paper, though it be made of rags, is the most unprofitable of all things set on fire. Nay, I think, that out of the ashes of these monumentall Histories, it were impossible, ever by the labour of Alchymie, to recover the resemblances of the principles, whence they came, nay, not so much as the figure of the pot, which in most Quires is very visible. Otherwise, the Don no doubt, for the love he bare these Authors, would have made that his first adventure, and might have been as famous upon Record, for Chymicall experiments, as he is at this day, for Heroick undertakings.

The Barber opened a book, call'd the teares of Angelica.] One act of grace yet, Angelicas teares would have extinguish'd the fire, and therefore were kept out, but without doubt, the true reason, why the Curate and Barber were induced to save it, was this; they both were good fellows, and looking downe upon their bestript doublets and skirts, spar'd the teares of Angelica, for the teares of the tankard, wherein both were drencht.

In good sooth, Lord Arch-Bishop Turpin.] Such strange impressions makes strong fancies, and works not onely upon women wonderfull effects, but even the most masculine spirits have been (as well as our Don) shrewdly tainted with it. A Gentleman importun'd, at a fire-night in the publike Hall, to accept the high and mightie place of a mock-Emperour, which was duely conferred upon him, by seven mock-Electors at the same time, with much wit and Ceremony; The Emperour ascended his chair of state, which was plac't upon the highest table in the Hall, and at his instalment, all Pomp, Reverence, and signes of homage, were used by the whole company: [Page] Insomuch that our Emperour (having a spice of self-conceit before, was soundly peppered now) for he was instantly Metamorphoz'd into the stateliest, gravest and commanding soule, that ever eye beheld. Taylor acting Arbaces, or Swanston D'Amboys, were shadow [...]s to him; his pace, his look, his voice, and all his garb was alter'd. Alexander upon his Elephant, nay, upon the Castle upon that Elephant, was not so high, and so close did this imaginary honour stick to his fancy, that for many yeares he could not shake off this One nights assumed deportments, untill the times came, that drove all Monarchicall imaginations out, not only of his head, but every ones.

He call'd for his breakfast, which was presently brought.] This Barber, I perceive was no Barber Chirurgion; nor the Curate himselfe any great observer of Lent, Ember weeks, or other fasting dayes, else they would have kept him fasting, according to the dyet of Bedlam, which was the only way to allay his fighting spirit, which being ever and anon supplyed by the fumes of bak'd pudding, and his body blowne up with flatulent meat, such as pease-pottage, radishes, and on yons made, such dangerous recruits in him, that without prayers and spare dyet, it was impossible to exorcize his Frenzy.

The plot was to change his Chamber, and damm up his study.] This delusion of his Chamber, was good, pro tempore. I knew a humorous Cook in Oxon, so given to shift and alter doors in his house, that one morning early, he chang'd the door belonging to a paire of stairs, which went to one of his Lodgers chambers; who not knowing of this alteration, run down hastily (as at other times) and found his head stuck in a new mud wall, which did so confound him (going about some other necessary businesse) that by reason of the forcible detainer, it was a great question, whether he was in more morter, above or below. Of the like losse of a study, it is certaine, that a scholar call'd somewhat hastily from the place to a friend, who had brought some token to him, left his door wide open, and making merry somewhat late, return'd at night, and resolved to have candle, (though his head was light enough, he passed by his study-door, and came to the window in the study, where finding himselfe, he cryed ou [...] (frighted at the apprehension of his losse) Theeves, Theeves, my Study is stolne, but indeed he had lost nothing but that afternoon and his wits, which his chamber-fellowes (awakened with the noyse he made) recovered him to, and having put the door into his hand with much adoe, was perswaded to lock it up, and secure the Study better against morning.

Muniaton Freston.] This Inchanter is of no note, nor doe I finde his name in any famous Authors of Daemonology, he is not so much as mentioned in Cornelius Agrippa, nor yet in the Shepheards Calender, unlesse he was some one of those three Bungi, Bacon, or Vandermast: and so hath chang'd his name, (as is usuall with Jesuites and Inchanters) I know not whom it should be.

The poor fellow determined to serve him for a Squire.] Sancho hath bit at the ambitious baite, and is caught poor fellow, he knew not what a dance the Don would lead him, before he return'd to the shaking of the sheets, with his Ioan Gutierez.

[Page]Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit, & alsit;

Much did the poor old Squire endure, before

He got to be the Ilands Governor.

But above all things he charg'd him to provide himselfe of a wallet.] Two things very unsuitable and Inaugurable for such grand designes, an Asse and a Wallet. But whosoever hath read the History of Masinello, a poore contemptible fisherman, will think nothing impossible. An Asse or two, (Sancho and his Beast, give them but the fortune) may overrunne Muleasses and his Barbaries, and a wallet may sack Constantinople.

Si fortuna volet, fies de Rhetore Consul.

In English thus,

If it seem good to powerfull fate,

A Dray-horse may be a horse of state.

In that of the Asse the Don stood pensive.] Parvis principiis res magnae crescunt. If he had bestrid Bucephalus, the World could have but gaz'd at him, and so they would now: excesses and defects have alwaies the same admiration, as much wondring at Ieffery, as the great Porter. Be not troubled and disquieted (O Don of vast desires!) Take the Asse along with thee, and be not ashamed, though his eares are unsightly, his back is serviceable. No Beast, except a Dromedary, (and Sancho upon the Asse makes one) will be able to goe under the spoyles, that thy valour will atchieve.

Mounté cheval, and through all Nations passe,

That word mounts thee, and Sancho mount thy Asse.

Sancho Pancha rode on his beast like a Patriarch.] whether the Primitive Patriarchs rode so, (I meane those before the flood) is very difficult to prove. Asses indeed, were then much in use, but for the Wallers, unlesse it were in the great famine, when they went down to Aegypt to buy food, I find not example for it; I am sure our Moderne Patriarchs doe not so, the Patriarch of Constantinople not so, nor of Alexandria so, nor his Holinesse Papatriarch so, nor the Arch-Bishop of Toledo so. The Mule, and glorious Foot-cloath-pages, and Harbingers, are all too little for these Patriarchs; yet these are governours of more then Ilands, what Sancho will do when he is in honour, noman knowes.

Joan Gutierez my wife become a Queen.] Ioan was a great damp to the high thoughts of Sancho. For a man of his expectations to be depressed with a slut, a whore, or a fool (or it may be all at once in one) was an intollerable weight. A dung boat sunck in a shallow, where a wherry is to passe, lies so pest [...]lence unhappy, that neither it selfe can get forward, or any thing by it. It cals to mind, a story of a poor, but simple woman, who for want of a graine or two of discretion, lost her husband the highest advantages of the World that ever was. For the good man had so spent his time in true and honest paines, contented and not murmuring, that Fortune seem'd to smile upon him, as oft as he came to worship at her Temple, whither he oft resorted; the gracious looks of the Goddesse encouraged him to aske something more then before he used, & yet considering with himselfe, that too bold a votary might be repuls'd, he modestly bounded his request with [Page] sure, that her goodnesse would conferre three wishes upon 'um, which from the Oracle was answered; Ratify'd; Wish, and be happy. The joyfull man acquainted his wife strait, who having been the constant companion of his labours, was meet to share in his good fortunes; but shee was just such another Niddecook as Ioan Gutierez, and the first thing shee desired her husband, was, that one of these wishes, might be left to her disposall. The good old man, willing to gratifie her, said, yea Love, one I will spare thee: So to the Faire they came, whither they were bound, and the woman casting her eyes round about, to see what she should make the choyce of her wish, at last, (remembring what shee wanted at home) spied a handsome wooden ladle, which shee forthwith wish'd for, and as soon the thing was in her hand, which her husband seeing and impatient at the miscarriage of the first wish, wroth with his wife for her simplicity, wished the Ladle in her breech, which out of hand was instantly there. But the poor woman (like a fly with a straw in the same place) was so tormented, besides the shame, that she desired her husband, that as he ever hop'd to partake of the delights of the opposite place, he would remove this impediment, to which the uxorious man condiscended, and in charity to his wife, wish'd it out againe. So all the three wishes went in and out with a Ladle.

CHAP. VIII.

Having a witnesse and his Squire to boot,

He dares high things; now let the Mils look to't,

Which though inchanted in those forms by Freston,

He does encounter, but hath not the best on't;

For up hee's hoysted in their sayles, and flying

Ith' aire aloft, on th' earth he ne'r fear'd dying.

Roz'nant was chang'd into a Pegasus,

Bellerephon they made, and Perseus.

Poor Sancho on the ground, doth gape and stare,

And sees his Don dub [...]'d wofull, Prince 'oth' aire;

Where if the Force had giv' [...] him t' other whisking,

He'd neer come downe to Combat the proud Biscaine;

But he descends, though ne'r so high a flyer,

And Sancho mones him on the ground a Lyer.

TEXT.

QUoth Sancho, pray understand that those Gyants are Windmils.] This grosse mistake of the Don▪ to the not drinking or cleering his eyes in a morning, which Sancho never omitted, and if the Squire were not the sharper witted, he was the quicker sighted, doth appeare plain by the story. For he saw at a convenient distance forty windmils to be the very same, that the ipecies represented them; unlesse such a spirituall mischance befell the Dons eyes, as did ones eares, who standing very attentive to a sermon, yet [Page] by no meanes of straining his neck, or shifting his port-holes could receive any articular sound or sentence, which troubled him much, but so much the more, when he espied him, and farther off than he stood, one taking notes very swift in short hand: Whereupon he removed his station, and thought philosophically, that some angles of the Church might carry the voice to that place by his circular concaves, whither when he came, he was as unable to heare as before. He beheld himselfe, and Sermon-Writer, and did not know which most to wonder at, his own deafenesse, or the fellows acutenesse. At last he asked the Brachygrapher, whether he wrote the notes of that Sermon, or something of his own conception? Yea (good Sir) said Stenography, the words of the Teacher in truth; The other replied, it was impossible, for I have stood by thee some while, and but even now a yard or two nearer to the Minister, and cannot heare a syllable; That may be, said the Scribler, unlesse you have sanctified eares. So it may be the Don had his eyes sanctified, and happily then (though unhappily here) he might discerne Windmills for Giants. But yet Sancho's eyes for me, which in time (for they were upon improvement) would easily (or at least as far as another mans) looke through a Mill-stone.

If thou art afraid, go aside and pray.] Sancho though he was none of the best at his prayers, yet at this time made election rather of his devotions than the assault: His prayers were short and home; God blesse me, and my children all three, and Ione from above th [...] knee, and no more. But it became not the Knight to give this liberty to his Squire, nor the Squire to take it, who was not to be upon his knees when the Don was upon the salley. But 'twas his first entrance; and though Sancho did not what was souldierlike, yet he obeyed orders, and therein he is excusable.

With this the wind encreased, and the sailes turn'd about.] Notwithstanding the danger of their turning, the Don scorn'd the motion, and assailes them, and no doubt had Rosinante been a Mill-horse, as his Master by one attribute was a Miller, they had carried the businesse round; but here the Mill had the better, for their want of experience only in such fights, for the Don should not have grappled here, but charg'd at distance, and letting alone his trusty Launce should have ventred on with lighted linkes, and then he had made cleare way to his victory, and having fired the sailes had also fired the Castle, and Cacus in it, where if there had been as much dough as meale, the same fire would have made him and Sancho Cakes enough for their Wallet, and the Mill should have been the Oven; but those that ever saw the Picture of falling Icarus, may guesse the condition of our Don, who fell not into any sea, that afterwards bare his name, but with a sound Thump he fell to the Earth, who bare his body; his mother had hop'd he would have returned to her as she gave him to the World, but he falls a Centaure, who came forth a man, and a heavy burden he was, as ever lay upon a Grand-mothers back.

Sancho comes to his succour as fast as the Asse would drive.] Poore Sancho laments the windfall his Master, and was gathering him up like a bruised Codling Apple a little corrupted on the Leiger side. I know not whether from this eminent misfortune that befell the Dons Windmils, since have been made to go to the Left, in memory of this dishonourable usage. The Observation hath escaped the learned Author of the Vulgar errours, and I will not undertake the decision.

[Page] Diego Peres of Vargas.] This Knight from his successe against the Moores gotten with an Arme of an Oake, was sirnamed Machusa, which signifies with us Iohn an Oakes; and our Don (or if Sancho had the braines, for the Squires were whim'd in the whiske) might very well from that encounter have stil'd himself a Knight of Millan. So Scipio from his victory against Carthage, was called Africanus, and the Caesars surnamed from their Successes, Almanicus, Gothicus, Britannicus, Germanicus, Dacicus, and Claudius, for other exploits, was called C [...]icus, and was the veryDackins a fellow us'd to defile himselfe. Dackins of all the Emperours. And no doubt but Sancho, if he had skill in the Latine, would have call'd him Querceticus of the Mancha.

Don Quixot could not forbeare laughing, hearing the simplicity of his Squire] This is the first symptome, whereby 'tis guess'd the Don to be rational, that he could laugh. The Query of Sancho's was very provident. For Sancho having now two capacities, the one personall, and the other Squire erranticall, 'twas very well worth the enquiry to know in which of those two he should suffer. For if the Squires Arme, Leg, or Neck were broke, it made no matter, so that Sancho Pancha were a whole man (as they say.) But the Knight did state the Question in the Affirmative, that the Bodies of Squire-Errants, and Knight-Errants, likewise, do suffer personally (as Witches in their Bodies suffer for the harmes of the shapes of Cats, Dogs, Hares, or any Creatures else they assume) For Errantry is but a nobler kind of Incantation and Witchcraft sans question, and therefore à simili 'tis subject to the same Inconveniencies. Our Knight (who was none of the wisest) experimentally knew (which is the surest knowledge of all, but not the safest,) that when the Knight-Errant was in the aire, that Don Quixot was there also, and when he and Rosinante come with a squash to the ground, that the Squire-Errant was then Couchant in a field Greene, Nose Gules, and Sides and Back azure: and so you may state the Question for Personall or Politique capacities, if you hurt one you hurt both.

Then Sancho said unto him, it was dinner time.] Sancho could not looke on the one side him, but the Wallet did Item him, such memento's he lik'd very well; a fall too, rather than a fall from the Windmill; but the Don had not maw to victuals, having not yet disgested his Feast of fresh aire, which almost turned him into a Camaelion. But he that travels with a Cane that will hold Sack (for such there are as well as Sugar Canes) may go further than one with a firme Staffe, this is better to jumpe with, or leane on, but for a great journey I would relie on the other. The Bottle and the Wallet are two good Companions; and as he rode, it was in Persian state, for the ends of the Wallet being of each side, Sancho possessed the middle place (which in those Easterne Countries) is of highest honour. The Bottle Sancho often advanceth to his nose, which raised his eyes to heaven, which he seldome so devoutly looked on, as in that posture, and by that meanes he often called to remembrance that there was something above him.

So Cyrus on a Dromedary rod,

Adoring, like to Sancho, his Warm'd God.

He tore an Oake and set on the Iron of his own.] It was strange that Sancho did not alight and set on the Iron, but permit his Master to doe it. But hence you may gather, that Knight-Errants as they are of all Countries, and all Languages, so they are of all Trades; They take it from the Ottoman [Page] Race, who are alwaies bred up to handicrafts.

Thou must not assist me, unlesse those that assault me be base and Vulgar people] Very easie Indentures these of a Squire-errant; and yet had they been given sooner, Sancho was, by his Conditions, to have run the same danger with his Master at the encounter of the Windmils: For what more base Castle than a Mill? And what more vile Rogue than the pilfering Giant in it? But Sancho was not dub'd, and therefore was excusable, and never meant to be, and therefore would for ever be excused. Nor did [...]uixot (as ever I read of) make tryall of his Squires personall valour before they mounted, as a Knight in our Country (but not of that Order) did, who having dealt with a Master of the noble science of defence for his Usher of the Schoole, whom he obtained from him for a summe of money, before he came to his owne seat rode to a City, where he was acquainted with a huge Bravo in that Art, unto whom he repaired, and told him, that he had got a young pretender to the tacticks, and desired that he would be pleased to try what mettall he was made of; the Tryer, looking very disdainefully upon the young man, (as Goliath upon little David) went forthwith to the Schoole, where having chose the weapons, to it they fell, the Tryer bidding him Guartha, and be carefull, for he should give him cause to know, that he met a man of skill; the Usher lay purposely open, and unguarded, and the other spying the advantage gave him a brush, whereat he vapoured extreamely, shaking his head at the fellows unexperiencednesse; whereupon the Usher gathered up his skill and mettle at once, and gives his Trier such a wipe o'r the shins, that he made him make a Leg for't, though not in Courtship; and presently retires to the Knight, and swore, 'Tis a pretty fellow, there's hopes of him: Anon the Usher gives him a shrewd swap on the very end of the elbow, which he rub'd likewise in his commendations, and said, 'Tis a very pretty fellow i' faith. By and by the Probationer with quick returnes laid his Trier o'r the sides, legs, and pate, all in an instant, whereupon he threw away his Weapon, and sware to the Knight, He is for your turne Sir, 'Tis a question whether his Tongue or head ran faster in his commendation.

Do you not see Sir (said Sancho) that these are Friers of Saint Bennets Order.] The Don (contrary to the advice of Sancho) attempts this more dangerous adventure; for the Windmils could only grind the body, but these Friers the Purse. That Coate is higher priz'd in Spaine than in England, where it was five pound a blow, and the Don being a nimble striker, how soone might the revenew of the Mancha have been thrash'd out upon one of their Canonicall Coates? Besides the danger of the Inquisition, which Sancho dreaded as hell, where no Wallet would be admitted, and the bottle of good Sack for ever to be banished, Bread and Water unto Sancho! the Furies were not worse Torment to him than the latter of them, for which cause he was very glad the World should ne'r be drown'd againe; for of all deaths he hated it, and like Ovid, not with him, was used to cry out, ‘Demite naufragium, Mors mihi munus erit.’ Which Iohn Taylor thus Englisheth:

To drinke indeed is all my wish,

But how, not to drinke as a Fish.

[Page]Sancho run in to the Monke, and would have ra [...]sack't his habits.] Non videt id Manticae quod in tergo est? Yes, Sancho had seen Cappuchines, and knew where their Wallets were, where the stock lay, no paddee to a Trooper, so expert; and now you see the chiefe of Sancho's service, he was for the plunder, the Squire for the bag, the Knight for the baggage, for he is with the Biscaine Lady, while his Squire made an adventure indeed, of robbery, but was taken in the fact, and having two unmercifull Jurymen, and Judges (for they were all) two heavy fisted Lackeys, never was horse so curryed, betwixt two Northern Jockies, as Sancho was. Sancho pleaded well, that they were lawfull prize by law of Armes, but the unskilfull knaves (not knowne to Civill Courts) used him very barbarously, nay, no Barber would have serv'd him so, (though he had often gon away trimm'd for nothing) they grubb'd up his reverend haires by the roots, and left his chin as bare, as a pull'd hens rump. In ten yeares travels they came not againe; so that Ioan at his return, thought him made young againe, and had they grubb'd downward, and a like growth come there also, it might have passed for a very good Metamorphosis. The Monk all this while (though he had his, Thou shalt not steale for Sancho) not remembring his Lackeyes of the other precept (which was very neer violating, for Sancho was breathlesse, and that is as good as dead,) got to his horse, and with a greater speed (then he rode to be admitted into the Monastery) made away, and left poor Sancho in pate and beard a Monke, but of the order of the Maledictines.

Get thee away Knight in an ill hour, or I will kill thee,] This Biscainer was a Castrill, a very Foighter, and no doubt, but the Pusses in the Coach, were his sisters. But the Don recounting with himselfe (notwithstanding that he swore damnably, he would kill him) the infallibility of his security in being Knight-Errant, that it was impossible to be ever out-right killed, he made bold to throw the Caytiffe in his face, which was the greatest affront to a Biscainer (who is terrâ marique, a gentleman) that could be offered. Had the Biscaine been tossed as our Don was by the Windmill, and a little higher in concavum Lunae, no doubt but he had been a gentleman by all the four Elements. Two such high spirits are now met, and more implacable then Clinias and Dametas. The Author leaves us uncertaine of the issue of this single combate, (which however it went with the Master) was notorious on the Brutes side, for Rosinante run down the hired, tired jade of the Biscainer:

And if the horse such prayses had,

The Knight got more, or he was mad.

The End of the first Book.

[Page]

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DONQUIXOT. BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

Ioult here! we're at a losse, now what shall we doe,

We must toth' Exchange for newes, e'n at Toledo.

Where if a Hawker with old scrowles Arabick

Doe not support us, downe goes all this Fabrick

Of Quixotsy Errantry; but let me tell yee,

We happ'ly meet Hamete Benen-geli,

An old Arabian book, which very few

Doe understand, but we have hir'd a Jew▪

(Of which there are good store in Spaine,) who kenn'd

A better tongue, then wherein this is penn'd.

He doth translate this brave ensuing story,

Which book by book shall now be laid before you.

Give eare therefore, 'tis time, for we have found

One of our Dons fall'n off from's head toth' ground,

Cut by proud Biscaine hand, but see he lies,

To answer for one eare, with both his eyes,

He dearly payes the making Don, Scriva-no

Dead on the place, but that the Ladies-pray-no:

What could not Ladies doe upon a Peer,

The most humane, that ever wore an eare.

No man but he, would e're us'd a foe-so,

Vpon his homage done to Dul Toboso.

TEXT.

WE left the Don and Biscaine in so doubtfull taking.] This pause, is like an Istmos or Peninsula, which dividing two enraged seas by her naturall interposition, keeps them from emboguing or praecipitating one into the other. Otherwise, Ionium Aegeo frangit mare, as saith his lofty Country-man Lucan. But you may guesse the [Page] Combatants by their metall, like Stags and stonehorses. For as on each side of an Istmos, by the iterated beatings and rebeatings of the waters, the froth and Venus, the salt and spirituous bubbles (churn'd into a creame) are seen at top about the shoar: So every where did appeare upon this Pharsalian Camp, the drivelings of these embossed Rivals, who foam'd like two chaf'd Boars, or blowne Mastiffs, whose rage had curded one anothers chops, that had they been milk-sops, they might have din'd from one anothers face, nor were their Horses in lesse Agony, and by excessive heats, continuall evaporations, and sweats, they were laundred and ladder'd; had there been water by, as there was land enough, they might have very well serv'd for the sport of the soaped Bull. It is great pity to leave two Knights tugging thus, like slaves at an oare, I will (with my Authors leave) make what haste I can for their redemption.

The Author leaving no notice, where we might find the rest of the narration.] This a Spanish quirk, a maze of the Authors owne making, as intricate as his braines, to puzzle and with-hold the inflamed Reader, whom he would make believe, for the dignity and antiquity of his History, that it came from Arabian head and language, and was translated by an Hebraean; But I am cleare of another opinion, though I like his invention well, and ‘Facile est addere.’

And I shall put my conceit upon the judgement of the World, which of the two they thinke most probable. Therefore I conjecture that this story of Quixot, with many more eminent Opuscula of that nature, were all preserv'd in that famous and wonderfull hollow tooth of Garagantua, from the irruptions of the Goths and Vandals, and the Barbarismes of the Ottoman cruelty: which said tooth, Iohn Pontaeus, his Ter-quaterque retro-Tritavus descended into, by the assistance of a Colledge of Physitians (for there was room enough) and Chirurgions also, with all those huge engines, tooth-pick-axes, tooth-mattocks, and all manner of mouth-Pionery, provided for the scouring, cleansing, and purging of that stupendious concavity. In the rubbish of that vast Hiatus, were these two Volumes of the Don preserv'd safe and unperisht; which how they came thither, will be the hardest thing to make good: But it is of no such difficulty to salve the scruple. For that exceeding Gyant being troubled with no small paine in his tooth, called the Hodontalgia, it caused such a vacuum in the place, that so much wind had gathered thither, as it was enough (as out of Aelus cavernes) from thence at any time to have caus'd a tempest; wherefore from all places there were helps and councels call'd, and when stopping of it was concluded upon, they thought not at the instant, with what to doe it, (mens braines being not alwaies ready for every punctilio) but then finding what an intollerable charge it would amount to in Cotton-wooll, Linnen or Canvas, they thought it best, (and best cheape) to doe it with wast paper, which was approved on, and the Gyant willing to save his purse, condescended to it: So all the Pamphlets then extant, all Romancees, English, Spanish, French, and throughout the world were bought up, and amongst the rest, this of our Don, which being chiefly to be preserv'd, was laid next the root of his tooth, many piles of lesse worthy labours lying betwixt it and the casualties of the continuall defluxions that fell upon the place. [Page] So have you him uncorrupt, and by the help of Rablais sweet as a nut.

Rescuing damsels with all their virginities at their backs.] This is virginity transplaced; but it is plaine he means mothers, who had their little ones, as our Irish women use to go laden (who without all question were virgins) at their backs: Which cals to mind, a story of a Foot Knight-Errant of our Land, who was much given to take the pleasure of the Woods in the Summer time, and especially that time of it, when nuts are in season; into the thicket, where he was used to adventure, came a very faire Lady of goodly stature, rare and flowing haire, and of good carriage (for she had two barnes bound fast to her:) the melancholy Knight viewing her, was amaz'd at her rich beauty and poor clothes, at her light ordering her pasternes, and heavy burthen at her back, and calling the Lady to him, ask't her, whence, and who she was, she told him, one whom misfortunes had sent into England sor reliefe; yea said the gentleman, that thou shalt not want, and presently gave her a piece of mony, the Lady bowed her selfe and her family to him, and as she was praying God to blesse him, he desired her to spare that, and stay a little with him, and presently requested her to take the pleasure of the place, and shee should have better chaffer then nuts; which the Lady apprehensive enough, was willing to entertain, but told him the disconvenience of obtaining his purpose, whilst those weights and impediments were tyed to her, we will unloose them, said (Sr Solitary) nay said the Lady, but if they be unfastened, they will cry for meat, and laid aside without it, keep such a noise, that may call in spectators more then we desire. Come said (Sr Solitary) that all may be secure, fasten the barnes to my back, and I shall be (as you shall order it) as good as a cradle to them. The Lady lik'd his pregnant fancy, and presently unwhitled, and swathed them to her Paramor, who was no sooner fast, but he was desirous to be loose, and when he prepar'd himselfe to beat the Tree, the Lady vanish'd with such speed, that he running (with weight) was not able to overtake his flying Daphne; and too farre he durst not follow, for feare of discovery: now he tryed to ease himselfe of his charge, but the cunning Lady had fastened the whittles so equally behind, that his hands could not reach the knots, and while they were in the amorous embraces, shee withdrew with his mony, all injurious weapons from him, so that his knife, which would have decided this Gordian knot, was stolne. The Gentleman reflected upon himselfe, and both sorry, and asham'd of the action, that he might take heed for the future, and satisfie for what was past, made hast toward night to his Towne, accoutred as he was, and at a Tenants house dismantles himselfe, telling her the story, and giving her charge to see the brats well brought up, which was a piece of gallant Foot-Errantry; and so what was intended Lechery, prov'd an act of excellent charity.

This Dulcinea of Toboso, had the best hand for powdering of Pork in all the Mancha.] This is the first Character we have of the excellencies, which were in this Lady Dulcinea of Toboso. But why this should move a Iew to laughter, I know not? rather it might have provok'd him to have throwne away the book, for the Iewes abominate all swines flesh, fresh or salted: which hatred against that foule beast, (besides the prohibition) was augmented from the Divels choise, after his dispossessing, and changing his [Page] lodging into a heard of Swine. But that the Commendations of her hand, in that piece of huswifry, is not so ridiculous; I shall make it appeare by two short stories in our owne Country: where a Gentleman having invited (about the Lent-time) some friends to his house, his Lady provided such cheer as was seasonable, the Collops and Eggs, and as it fell out, (a Hogg being slaine) shee had a service of the puddings, which being deservedly commended by the guests; Nay, said the Gentleman, friends be it known to you, my wife is abomination good pudding-wife. Take unto this another of like brevity, of one, who being merry with some friends late at a Taverne in London, and (as after all mirth some qualmes of repentance surprize us) he reflected upon his family in the Country, and pathetically laying his hand upon his breast, said, wicked wretch as I am, to be at such a late houre deboysing my selfe, when now at this sad time of night is my poor wife making Puddings and Candles.

Quixot written by Cyde Hamere Benegeli.] I never read or heard of the mans name before, unlesse he were Nephew to Allo-hazen Hali-Ben-Hali-Ben-Ragan, who indeed was a grand Translator, and an Astronomer, and from that high study understood, what Country would produce the most eminent men for Chivalry, as well as other matters.

There was painted in the first quire very naturally, the Battail betwixt the Don and the Biscaine, and the Mule and Rosinante.] The lively pourtraictures of the Biscaines Mules and Rosinante, makes me condole the wa [...]t of those Artists in my Nation; especially since the losse of that famous Hyliard, made more famous by the Incomparable expression of the dead Author,

—A hand, or eye,

By Hyliard drawne, is worth a history,

By a worse painter made—

Such stuff is now (though we have those can doe well yet) drawne, that it were a good piece of charity in the Painter (if he were skill'd in penne as well as in pencill) to write over the piece, what it is, that the puz'led spectators might know, which was the Hare, which the Greyhound, which the Lyon, which the Lamb, which the Eagle, which the Child. Rosinante was drawne so thin, that he was transparent, and the Mule, that one might sweare he was hired. O for an Oxford tyred hackney with a Freshman upon his back, to be thus drawn to the life.

Yet in respect the Moor doth hate us so mortally.] Fratrum concordia rara. The Moors and Spaniards, (especially those of the Austrian family) are as like as an apple to an apple, an egg to an egg, an eye to an eye, a tooth to a tooth, or to come nearer, a lip to a lip; and for that reason, there may be some emulations, both striving, who should outlip the other. But the pretender to universall Monarchy, hath now the better on't, though the Moor may justly esteem himselfe of the more antient house, being more sooty and smoaky.

Historiographers ought to be very true and unpassionate, &c.] Lipsius could have said no more to Tacitus, who both were better Polititians then Hi [...]rians; for by interposing their owne censures into the affaires they [...] on, they shew'd indeed their Art, but not their faith: That brings into suspition [Page] the truth of all the rest: better did Stow and Holingshead, wherein though there be many lies, (which they took upon relation to the times) yet they added never a wise word of their owne. Here is a very good description of History, and whereas I presume to turne his prose into verse, so here I shall turne his English into Latine. Mater & nutrix veritatis est Historia, temporis Coaetanea, Repositorium & Bibliotheca actionum; Index & testis rerum praeteritarum, Futurarum Aruspex & Sybilla.

The Trenchant swords of the two valorous, &c.] The Gyants and the Gods for the time, were not so hot at it, as the Don and the Biscaine. Have yee ever seen two driving a Buck? that's somthing to it: two beating of Hemp, very like; but a brace of threshers excellent, who falling out about the overlarge soope of the Colley or Harvest-bottle, bestow upon themselves what was due to the sheaves.

Who is he that can well describe the fury that entred into, &c.] Quae dixit & quae fecit? nay, what said he not? what did he not? He did not regard his owne lost eare, but said, he would have two for one, hee was alwayes covetous, and given to extortion, for he vow'd to have the head too, to which they were supporters. And being resolv'd for improvement, he inclosed his valour, which before lay in common field, and with united, hands, eyes, and all but eares, he let fly at the Biscaine, and with one blow, confounded and downe-dagger'd him, and as we say in our poor English Proverb, put him clean beside the Cushion. and there he lay Semi-mortuus, Sepulchrorum & manium Penincola. We had seen his head on a Speare (like the Boats before Guy of Warwick) had not the Ladies in the Hell Carts, screem'd out for their Hector, and humbly begg'd (once on their knees) to save his life, who had serv'd them on his, all his dayes, and nights too.

[Page]

CHAP. II.

Our Dons in blood, and won't heed Sancho's rules,

But rides about the field which is all gules

From his eare stillant, sweares they shall repent'um

That drew that blood;and slights Album unguentum,

Which Sancho stole from his ill favoured Mopse,

Thinking it good for cuts, as 'twas for chops

In here o're parched face. But the Squire was

Unwilling that the Balme Fierebras

Lay in his Masters head, which being so neer,

He hop'd, in time would issue to his eare.

But now he rages worse than any Caesar,

When he beheld his broken Hemets vizar;

The Biscaine he'll recall upon the place,

(For troth he was asham'd to shew his face)

And had he kept his oath of Fasts, and Wakes,

H' had Wak'd his last; but Sancho (wise) uptakes

That matter, and finding his stomack high,

Desires with bread and Cheese to pacifie

His great distemper, and by perswasion,

Upon the Crust and Caus, he makes invasion.

TEXT.

SANCHO prayed with all his heart.] Somewhat of kinne was Sancho to the Sea-men, who seldome pray but in a Tempest, and the prayers much alike; Vt optatâ potiantur are [...]â:

As saylors pray at Sea, to see the dry lands,

So Sancho prays, that he may have his Iland.

These are not adventures of Ilands, but of thwartings.] The pitcher doth not goe so often to the well, but sometimes it comes home broken. This Proverbe, (if the Spaniard had understood it) would have suited very well with the Don, who very much at present ressembled the Hieroglyphick, having eares, Ana. It is the right discipline of Knight-Errantry, to be rudimented in losses at first, and to have the Tyrocinium somewhat tart. Those prove your surest veterani, and hardest Knights, who have smarted for their experience. The castigation of the lackeys, the unfavourable but auspicious hoyst of the Windmils (for in the elevation he saw all the Castles he was to conquer, and Sancho's Iland too) the eare-ring of the Biscaine, (for it was more than admonition,) were the praeludiums and tryals of his doughtinesse: Ardua virtutis via.

And whosoever is to make his way thorow quicksets, thornes, and bryars, may very well lose an eare in the thicket.

Don Quixot check'd Rosinant, untill Sancho did arrive.] Marke the great love betwixt Sancho and the Knight, and the two Brutes respectively. [Page] Much like that of pothooks and dripping pan, who once were at variance; the one was off the hooks, the other upon it was a drooping-pan; but at last by meditation of Andirons, parties of each side, they were reconcil'd, and in signe of everlasting amitie, when pothooks lookt down upon dripping-pan, then did dripping-pan look up upon pot-hooks. Even so and so the simile is quadrate, when Sancho's Asse bray'd, then Rosinante neighed, when Sancho out-cri'd, then Don did not out-ride.

It were not amisse to retire to some Church.] Ignavi semper specie pruden [...]û [...] admonent. Cowards are alwaies great Polititians, and huge creators of dangers and safeties. Sancho is afraid of hues and cries, for the insultum fecit upon the Monks, and a clausum fregit it had lik'd to have been, if that the Pages had not come in before the Burglary, committed upon his treble lock'd purse. Two reasons yet Sancho had for this caution; security of person, and conveniency of revictualling, for the provisions were far spent, the wallet was emptie, which made Asse and Man goe sorrowfully: Sancho was short and thicke, and being empty and lanck, there were two wallets upon one beast: He (though others hate it) lov'd to make a cloak-bag of his belly, wherein he desired an dayes provision at least before hand; for he did not use his wallets, emblematically one, and that the foremost, should hold others vices, and the hindmost his owne. That dyet was for envious folkes (of which number he hated to be) because they were lean. He lov'd all religious houses, but especially the Monasteries, for that the Monks were very well spread men, not dwindlers, but of an ample size, having bodies capable for large undertakings, and wherein the soule was not streightned, as in pinch'd and spiny carcasses, where the received aire being stifled and choakt up into a narrow compasse, causeth stinking breath, and many other aneusanses in the body naturall, which he intended in his future Iland (when he came to it) to prevent.

I will deliver thee out of the hand of the Caldaeans, how much more from the holy Brother-hood.] This holy Brother-hood, were the Officers of the Dorps, as Constables, Tithing-men, Bayliffs, bumme or shoulder-Marshals, and the like dreadfull appearances, which make stop of suspicious persons, vagrants, under which Squire-Errants, if not Knights, might very well be comprehended; But that Knight-Errants are for the holy sisterhood, and feare no such bugbeares. He that feares not the Caldaeans, scorns to come before the Constable, or his vigilant Capitolian Watchmen.

O what a valdè vult, or rather a vult valdè

Is here, that feares nor Constable nor Caldee.

Prây use this lint, and a little unguentum album he hath in his wall [...].]

Sancho had stolne his wives unguentum, wherewith shee soder'd up the chinks in her ruinous face; that poor woman, for want of it and the thiefe, will gape till his return, like the parch'd earth in a drought.

A viall full of the Balsamum Fierebas.] Opobalsamum, I pray you, for a rarity of so transcendent operation! This was an imaginary Balsame, which was good for imaginary wounds. Phantastes being ask'd (in that learned play of Lingua) what a man thought of, when he thought of nothing, answered by present strength of imagination; he is thinking how to answer him, that asketh nothing; so for no wound, no Balsamum is best. This Op [...]balsamum, (as he would have it valued and esteemed) was neer of affinity [Page] to the sympathetick powder, which hath done wonderfull things. A strange but true story I shall tell you of the effects of some of it. A Lady fell asleep (as many do) with needles and pins in her mouth, which she unhappily swallow'd: great care there was to preserve her; Physitians from the four corners are called, and a Regiment of Apothecaries & Chirurgions; For her Knight terribly afriad of intestine turn-pikes, could not rest, till some remedy was found out. A councell was had, and no conclusive result; at last a little Paracelsian Apothecary Clyster-high, advised to make a Clyster with three hundred ingredients, which you may read in the Pharmacopoea (translated or not translated) but the chiefe praedominator in the businesse, was to be two graines of pulvis magneticus, powder of Loadstone, which having the Misceatur and Condiatur by direction, was administred unto the Lady by the Pigmy Minos (drest up like a Gentilewoman) for more modestyes sake, which wrought so appositely and sympathetically, that the occult qualities of the Loadstone, presently exerted and shot out their vertues through the body of the patient so vigorously, that at last they fastened upon the needle, which was attracted with a powder, the other impulsives helping to the qua data porta, and in such an instant of time, that little Minos could recover himselfe from the storme of her Ladyships Posternegate, which stream'd and issued so furiously, that my Apothecaries face was stuck like a pinne-cushion, and the needle stuck, was in his nose cleer and untainted, with the many Meanders that it had passed thorow. The Apothecary was carried forth to the Doctors and his fellow Artists, who wrote probatum to the Clyster, and for the mishap, no other of the function was to d [...]e it but himselfe, the Chirurgions as their office is at Anatomies (cleanly drest) made his face cleane, and the Knight gave him Pulvus auratus for his sympatheticus: And so all parties were very well pleased.

Give me but a draught of the Opobalsamum, and I shall, though cleft in twain, be sounder then an apple.] All the Art is in the cleanly conjunction of the disunited parts againe; for if there should be solutio continui, but for a minutes time, and 'twere a head of Gold 'twere lost; for experience, you have seen a Calves head cleft by a Butcher at a stroak, and immediately (ictu oculi as they say) clap together againe by the benefit of a fine white thread, which must be ever neer (for it is the thread of life) futures like Portcullises, or a paire of shuts, strike one into another; but as I said, if an eare from that head be separated, as it befell the Don, not Fierebras, nor Paracelsus himselfe, nor Bacons head of brasse can cure it.

With lesse then three Rials you may make three gallons of it.] With as little cost as he that found out the Philosophers Stone at first, and best (because best cheap, but these Lapides are not for Ladies) even with what think you? with the white of an egg whereunto the cock tread is joyned, which without doubt hath a villanous contagium upon the grand magisterium of the Stone. Since Coales have been so dear, few doe adventure at this great worke. But that this opinion may find its a betters is very probable, for all things are now discover'd to proceed askue (the round world and al) Ladies are with egg, not with child, happily so by their cackling, I wonder they don't lay before they sit, and make up their la'ter as they say in the Country; To hear a woman cluck were pretty. But to our Balsame, the poor is more becomming a Mountebanck, then a Knight-Errant. Iohn Pontaeus talkes of Dolars, and takes sixpence.

[Page] He swore to lead a life lke to the Marquesse of Mantua.] Proh Jupiter inquit!

What, is my trusty Helmets vizar broke in pieces?

Lend me his oath, of Mantua who Marquesse is;

I will not eat on cloth, I mean on Ta [...]le cloaths,

(For as Dulcinea, so her Don clean Napery loaths:)

I will no Turnament of flesh, though my Dul-

Long'd as they say, and I of lofty thoughts were full;

I will not see the Mancha honoured by my birth,

Nor wil I tread (though a Knight-Errant) much more earth,

Vntill there unpar'd ailes, there sharp and tearing tweesers

I fasten on his face, that broke my Helmets vizar.

Thou has spoken right and well, and therefore I disanull the oath, but I confirm it againe as to the Helmet.] Sancho keeps his Master very just, a Turk if he lay his hand upon his head, will never deceive you, nor a Jew, if he pat it on your thigh; the Knight-Errant, if he lift upon his eyes and hands to Heaven, cannot be realsed of the ingagement, unlesse the matter it selfe be null, as if he should have sworne to maintain Dulcinea's virgin-honour against all Knights, and shee should, unknown to him, though not to others (as they use in Scotland) have vent'red only a tryall of her potentiality to procreation, and had the scruple of her mind satisfied with a brace of barnes at once. In such a case (as the Casuists says well,) Iuramentum est irritum, or (as Doctor Cutbert hath it in his notes upon Balus,) Irritum est Iuramentum. But the Knight was here Errant in his rage, and forgot that the Biscaine was a military Trophie, and Marshall Donative sent upon Par [...]le to Dulcinea of Toboso; Whereupon, the oath fell of it selfe, as to the vindicative part, 'mary for the self-denying part, which was a voluntary and Sacramentall Renunciation of clean linnen at Bed or Board, it was to be kept, unlesse he purchas'd a dispensation from Rome. But I never heard that he wandred so farre out of the way, but inviolably kept of much of it as concern'd his sheets and shirts, as the Arch-Dutchesse of Austria, at the siege of Ostend for her smock.

Knight-Errants, if they perchance eat, they eat only what is next to hand.] Venter caret auribus, is that true? then our Don wanted three. The onion though it be nought for the eyes, it could not hurt his left eare, strong smels being no annoyances to the sense of hearing; yet why may not the sense make bold with one another objects? you have heard it commonly spoken, I have smelt out his meaning, I smell what you would have, or what you are doing, (that is more properly indeed at some time) let m [...] see what you can say; so for hearing, as an ill aire is smelt, so it may be heard, or understood, or felt. But the sense of tasting is most made use of at present, (which being very neerly related to that of touching:) the Don a naturall Philosopher (if ever any) would not suffer the objects (though they were very hard, and which is desructive to the Organs) to be at any competent distance or medium from his teeth, which encountred a Gyant called Crustbread, (a hardy whorson) the Cheese also was another Gyant, an Argus (but an old one) with an hundred eyes, as many as you shall see in a vault, and the matters as rocky, which this Cutis never left, as long as he saw one.

[Page] The chief sustenance were some Herbs they found about the fields.] Sancho was a very Ingrum as they call him, he could neither write nor read, a very beast, and fit for nothing but to pick sallets, which being the chief food (as the only parabile) wherewith the nature of our Knight-Errant was contented; What could you expect but faint performances from grasse dyet, or such as his last was, grosse fare? Had such a Knight liv'd in our Horison, and led so valiant and so frugall a life, he had been dubb'd brother with Iohn a Green; or had the times of old been worthy of him, he had been the only companion for Nebuchadonozor, when he was chang'd into a Beast. But we must leave him sub dio, whether a sleep or at supper all's one, the earth is bed and board to him.

Sleep pair of soules, than whom none worthier lie

Vnder the blew, and the dew-dropping Canopy.

CHAP. III.

Their Fare is mended, and now Sancho's Asse

And Rosinante pick, sallets on the grasse.

Our Errants are invited, and this night

Is merrily past away without a fight;

Yet to the pot poor Sancho went; ne'r fear,

'Twas toth' pot only (where the Goats boyld were.)

The Don doth drench his over-dry'd Mustachios

Once in good Wine, out of the heards Borachios;

Good wine, as it with several spirit meets,

So doe it spirits work; it rayses feats

And golden fancies in DON QUIXOT'S head,

Whilst heavy Sancho's fit for nought bu [...]bed.

The snorting Carle doth sleep out all along

The Dons Oration, and the Goatheards song.

TEXT.

SANCHO presently repaired to the smell of certain pieces of wild Goates flesh.] Here is Aesops Fable of the two Hounds, moraliz'd in the Squire and the Don. Hound Sancho was for the Kettle, Hound Quixot for the Field, Orations, or Musick; but Sancho as he had a tun belly by nature given him, so he was very much given to the belly, which being of that measure, was not easily fill'd. Such a servant was never advis'd to his Master by Marriot. But although the Don could have been contented with the fresh services of Madam Aura, for which he opened as constantly, as an Oyster against tide; Yet the Knights of the Mountaines obtained this favour of their younger brother of the Hils and Dales, that he would vouchsafe his company to such cheer as they had; which Goat-provision were most agreeable with their Errant bodies, which were alwaies saltitant, passant or currant, sometime volant, sometimes after a Windmill, or so, couchant. Omne simile nutritur à simili, which is the reason that swines flesh, (which most [Page] inwardly of all creatures resembles his master) is so nutritive and apposite, unlesse to old Jewry men, or Scots. I belive Sancho and his Master, fed most upon Goates countenance, the head boil'd in haire, being as rare and choyce meat, as Lambs head in the wool; very good dyet, and the most successfull for any that are troubled with a desperatio Barbae, beyond your unguents, or whatsoever else is given to dilate the pores of the place: 'Tis true, 'tis somewhat rough at going downe and untoothsome, but I told you before, it is not for the teeth or palat, but the chinne, though a pallat of Mo-haire is very good lodging (I take it;) now you know the attractive facultie is implanted in every part, ad every part drawes, and every part, (as the learned say) agglutinates, and assimilates, and then the work of nature is done, so that the chinne, the cheeks, the boscos, and suboscos (I mean,) the dulapes and the jawy part of the face, know what they have to doe, and what thatch is best for that place: And it is very well known, that ever after this entertainment, and the next day, Sancho's face moss'd, and his chinne had a down sprung out, substantiall enough to grate a nutmeg. The Don had a Philosophers Aspect, wih an [...]oblong handle, Mustachios circular, which were a great grace to his countenance Martiall. Sancho was a most grosse feeder, and you might smell much of his dyer, evaporated from under his Arme pits, which reak'd upon motion like a limekill, and by this dyet, gave a stronger Hogo.

And spreading certaine sheep-skins.] Those sheep-skin coverings without infringement of his oath, the Don might endure at his table; it was agreeable with the chief head at board, and the bottome of the trough was sutable to a knight in pennance, and in pilgrimage for a new Helmet; the horne cup, if it had been large enough, would very well have supplyed the defect, and became the Don better then the cushion did the Biscaine.

The same is said of Chivalry that is said of Love, that it makes all equall. Love and danger are very glutinous, and of a sodering and associating nature; if two love one another, it is very probable they will lie together; and so for quarrelling, if two fall out, they will presently fall in, and together by the eares; Contrariorum eadem est Ratio. So here, extreame love of Sancho's person made his sides-man with his Master, love is a leveller, for laugh (which is a but a variation for love) and ly down, and Chivalry do's so too, lay all before it.

I doe here renounce from this time to the worlds end.] It was not modesty in this duck-legs, that made him refuse the Table-fellowship with his Master, but only feare of starving. For the Knight was but a small feeder, and Sancho durst not gormandize, and guttle and guzzle too (for he would doe both) under his Master's nose, as he us'd to doe at the side Table or the Cupboard. It is a good house-policy, and piece of great frugality, that a whole family should set all in common together (according to the Proverb, 'tis merry when beards wag all;) the Master and men, Dame and damsels all together, (these cannot be so merry) whereby much, that by licentious feeding, would be wasted is sav'd, beside, orderly eating makes no mammocks, nor scraps for the Almes-basket. It is impossible to cure servants of the woolf or dog in the stomack, without they be sed under the Mistesses eye; and on the other side, I doe admire how Ladies gentilewomen and themselves too, make a shift to look so plumpe and fai [...]e, with [Page] those slender pittances, which they eat at their Tables, where I am sure they abstain not out of an intention to save their meat, but from constancy in the sobriety. I will not censure the reason of the temperance, nor impute it to the Cullises eaten before diner, or the sweat-meats after, but leave them to their owne waies and customes, knowing full well, that they were old enough to fill their owne bellies; with what? let it be left to their Ladyships good liking for me.

Tossed in with their fists whole slices.] If any man hath a desire to learn how to choak himself, let him look upon Sancho and these commoners, or cormorants shall I call them? with whom a piece of Goates leg goes as nimbly down, as it ever alive went up the crag; they doe as an exact trencher-Squire did with a Capons leg, draw him at one passe through the teeth, as emptie as you would doe a boyl'd peasecod. For handsomenesse of feeding, use of Napkins, and complement, they had been very well all trained up in Grobians school, where they learn'd every punctilio of abominably nasty and grosse feeding, which would make a man loath any meat that should be eaten by such swine;

His non invideas porcorum a [...]nge palatum.

Their palats all alike, it had been rare,

If with the hogs, alike had been the fare.

He took a handfull of Acornes, and beholding them earnestly, he began this discourse.] This Oration of the Dons, is much aloke to the description of Ovids golden age, which being excellent well rendred by the golden Sands, I shall not render it in such meeter, but in a suit agreable to this subject.

The Oration of DON QVIXOT.

Happy that Age, which called was the golden,

Not because gold (which doth so much embolden

Men in this Iron age) was plenty store,

Alas (good men) they had nor coyn, nor [...]ar;

But because all things were in common to 'um,

And those two filthy words, meum and tuum,

Were not i'th' World, but each mans heart and [...]ouse

Were open, they kept gen'ral randevouze.

A man might dine, (like Sancho) fill his guts

For nough with Acornes, or with unsavory Nuts;

And for his drink (for Nuts are somewhat dry,)

The silver liquor did run bubling by,

Which out of hand they drank; for cups and dishes

Were not in use, by word of mouth, like fishes,

They drank and drank, and n'er could drink [...] up;

Nor was it vile to slabber in the cup.

In clefts of rocks, and antient hollow trees,

The Common-Wealth or Monarchy of Bees

Did hive, and left to men the fragrant vales,

Carrying no sting, but honey in their tailes:

Vulcan was then no God, for then no steel,

But only cork, was fast'ned to horse heels,

[Page] Which made Light-horses all, but not for fights,

But Hide-park-races, and such free delights.

Children they might at pleasure get enough,

(But not as in the song) by going to plough

No hobb'nall whistled to the Teem, the ground

Gave freely all her graines, without a wound;

And all those fragrancies she kind disposes,

Which now we buy of gardners for our noses.

Then went from hils to dales the Shepheard-esses;

(Save of their haire) without all curious dresses,

Their haire in ringlets, which they sometime twine,

(Their beauteous skins as through a lattice shine)

And sometimes flowing from the top toth' toe,

You could discerne nothing but haire to goe,

Only some slender, but sufficient couer

Lay o're the Entry, which they call the Lover.

The silk-worme was not then put hard to work,

Nor fed to cloth the Minions of the Turk:

Ivy was all their cloathing, and good soules,

Though they were simple, yet they were no Owles,

But deem'd themselves as gallant in green Bur-docks,

As they which clad in silk their stale Sea-vernocks.

No art of words, no lisping, fraud, nor doubling

Of minds, or chins, not gaggling like Geese stubble-in;

But if they lov'd they lov'd, pure down right they,

Not having learn'd th' Hypocrisie of Nay.

Iustice was blind indeed (as true as steele)

As shee saw not the person, shee'd not feel

Whom to befriend, and as the weight oth' fee

Pois'd her, doe either right or injury;

It was before the dayes oth' dreadful budge,

There was none guilty, and there was no Iudge:

Young men and maidensmet, and so return'd,

Lust was not kindled then, which since hath burn'd;

No damzell can escape, though shee be shut,

As Rosamond the faire was in a hut;

Nay, were there now a Labyrinth this day,

If money can't, Love will find out the way.

Corruptions thus increasing, bribes and rapes

(To such a height, that scarce a Lady 'scapes,)

An order was invented, as you see,

Valiant and chast, of bold Knight-Errantry;

Whose offic [...] 'tis to vindicate all Ladyes,

(Which by constraint have teem'd with pretly babyes)

And all such widdows, whom miscarriag [...]

Hath poyson'd, 'fore their second marriage:

They must all Orphans help, whose cunning mothers,

Knew the right father, not the b [...]rn to smother.

[Page] These when their mother dye, being fatherlesse,

From their reputed ones they must redresse,

And of this noble order is your guest; that's I

Whom you have feasted, with Goates flesh full high,

For which, and for you Acornes as it due is,

I give you thanks, as had been Beef an bruesse;

And though the meat was due, as I'm a Knight,

I tak [...]'t more kind then if I paid for it.

Here the Goat-heard ended his dity.] This entertainment was Prince-like; meat, wine, and songs, it wanted only wenches, and as they in France, it had been cheer entire. I wonder the Don offer'd not a madrigall of his owne, but indeed, his Oration did supererogate, and no doubt but that Dulman Sancho was so heavie, it might have been obtained.

Faecundi calices, quem non fecere disertum?

'Tis easily answer'd, not such a clod as Sancho, or the Goat-heards, whose dull and unactive clay, no Fragrantia frigida frisca can elevate of firk up into any sparke of fancy. Wine is drown'd in their bottomes, and only happy when they spring aleak. But clods as they are, to their mothers lap, with them the earth, where they need not feare falling, but may ly secure without bedstaves.

Qui jacet in terrâ, non habet unde codat.

VVhose pallet is the very ground,

Sleeps sure from fals, if he sleep sound.

CHAP. IV.

But here we are diverted, and your eyes

Awhile are heated with sad Tragedies;

The death of Chrysostome, who lost his life

For coy Marcela, who would not bee's wife.

O that a Scholar and Astronomer,

Should for a placket knack so fowly erre!

Runne melancholy, mad, mopish, and cry

Old fool like a young child againe! and die;

And for an apple, in Marcela's eyes,

And for the Cherries, and the Straw-Berries

In her faire Cheeks and Lips; and for the snow,

The warme snow-bals, that lay her neck below;

And for a thousand knackeries, yet lower,

For which he many day, full hard did wee her.

But nothing would prevaile, so the old D [...]tard

Kicks up his heeles, as Peter told the Goat-heard.

TEXT.

THat Chrysostome died for love of the develish lasse Marcela.] Hey ho! for a wife say some, and hey ho, with a wife say others. Birds in the cage would faine get out, and those that are out would willingly be in. How is it, that no man likes his present condition? Old Father Chrysostome, would make young Marcela Mother Chrysostome, [Page] and young Marcela she loves no fits of the mother; a crosse grain'd slut, and lov'd courting, but not lying; servants, but no subjection. Well would she have lik'd a homage of a whole day done her with a bare head, and thredbare flatteries, besides favours and sillibubs, and for all this, think much to let her hand be kiss'd by the Idolatrous lips of her languishing Paramour. Nothing wil surfeit one sooner than such fits, and pan-pudding, there may be some raising in these, but no reason for the other.

Leave off fond Lover, never dye at her feet,

Love and Pease-pottage, are a dangerous surfet.

Chrysostome was skilfull in Astronomie.] He should have taught her some of his Astrological postures, and it had been a done businesse: But where were his braines that he never cast her, nor her nativity? Could not he read in those bright Characters, what would be the event of his own sute? What happy conjunctions were at her nativity? whether Venus were crosse legg'd, or Saturn costive, or Mars melancholy, (as he is alwaies after a conjunction with Venus,) or Mercury honest, and then you shall never steal a maid, especially if Luna be in the Wane, or picked, and then it blowes no body good? Or whether Iupiter was not joviall, or Sol in his Mubblefubbles? that is, long clouded, or in a total Eclipse, then little work for Mother midnight, for Sol & homo generant hominem, though men goe to work after Sunne sets. This old fellow had not the Hocas Pocas of Astrology, he could not shufle the Ephemerides nimbly, and make the stars move with a Palabras or a Falathra, according to the wishes of th [...] ingorant enquirers. Our figure-flingers went beyond him farre; they deal with the Chamber-maides to Ladies first, and (more like sutors then wizards) learn of them what the stars shall prognostick: Abigal discovers whom her Mistresse dreames of, and then this Albumazar will tell her it waking at what rate he pleases: Or if this take not, peremptorily conclude the Lady doom'd, destin'd, and star-assign'd to one, who at such a time, in such a place, with such a shape, in such a suit of cloaths shall be walking, (and all that laid before by the gentile-man, who brib'd his mercenary tongue to the description) and this shall passe for irresistible Fate, and the wedding instantly dispatch'd, for it was sign'd in Heaven, and they will seal it on earth.

He saw her first at the foot of a rock, where the Fountain stands of the Cork-tree.] Many take great Omens from the place where they first saw their Mistresses; this fellow's first view was from a Cork-Tree Fountain, ever since she made water in his mouth, but it was unfortunate; first, because there was a Rock, which was the emblem of her hard heart; then a Cork Tree, which is the emblem of levity, inconstancy, volubility, and hupernatability; then at a Fountain, which will never stand still, but is alwaies running, and so nothing can be done. It had been farre better, (if fortune had owed him so much good luck) to have seen her rising from gathering of a Rose, or in the very cropping a flowers, or collection of a whole posy. Besides that the proverb (especially that which plainly, and not parabolically laies down the beginning of Love) made for him, it must needs have prov'd auspicious, for in progresse of a small time, it must have come to a wedding. Others have had their first views in a Church, others at a puppet play, at dancing of the ropes, some at Green goose Fair, many [Page] upon May day in the morning, which being heretofore sacred to Flor [...] (who was a sweet minion I can tell you) in pursuance of her ceremonies, have had a green gowne, which hath brought things in it's due time, out of the parsly bed; of him that had the view of the Temple, (for I cannot ensample you in all) take this small account. The Amoretto was wont to take his stand at one place about the pew, where sate his Mistresse, who was a very attentive hearer of the man above her, and the sutor was as diligent an eyer of her, for having a book, and black-lead pen alwaies in his hand, (as if he took notes of the sermon) at last he got her exact picture. The Lady observing his constant zeale, and quotidian paines (for she imagin'd that he wrote short-hand) could not withstand the pious Rhetorick of his eye, by which fascination he first transmitted the venemous qualities of his warme affections; then finding some gracious returnes of her bright luminaries, and favourable aspects, he gaz'd so long sometimes, that he forgot his Table, till eye checkt to his duty, he scribled not a word of what was spoken. In processe of time, he came to neerer Colloquies, and they spake as others doe by their lips, whereby the Impulses of his desires were so strong, that shee submitted her selfe to this religious servant, who, (after taking possession of her ensuring office) told her the notes he took, and shew'd her the fairest lines, that ever were drawn in short hand; the Lady seeing her face so well done, chid him for his hypocrisy, and bid him abuse that place no more, but charg'd him to work on where he was, untill he copy'd out one like them both.

Sow Barly this yeare, and no Wheat.] Country people are abomination superstitiously given to credit such kind of Artists. A seasonable Almanack gaines more reputation then the King of Spaines Bible with all his languages, or the King of France, with more then his, or our late English translation, with more then both. If the Calender say fair, wet, windy, indifferent, or mixt of both, they will quarrell with the stars, if they make [...]or good what Lilly said, though in the point of the Eclipse, they think him a little contoxicated (as they say.) He that made the day, is not once thought on, unlesse he agree with the book, which is ador'd, if it prognostick a good seeds-time, and Harvest-time, and those yeares most joyfull, where our Ladies day (being Rent-day) fals out late, when the Lady lies in the Lords lap; 2d for such an Almanack. It is ordinary in the Meridian of London, for the wenches at an Easter to refuse the Communion, unlesse the Apprentices assure them a faire day to aire their Festivall cloths at Is [...]ington, Hogs-Town, or Totnam high crosse.

He appeared one day apparelled like a Shepheard.] Our student hath chang'd his coat, he is of a black, become a gray Fryar. O Love, what a pudde [...] hast thou made in this world below? yea, and in that above too? if we will believe the stories of Iupiters shapes and escapes, his cleanly conveyance of himselfe, into the shape of Amphitruo, and thereby into Alcumena, was very neat, and of all his Metamorphoses, the most probable, that of the Bull, Swan, and Ramme, are beastly lies; But for a Lady to be surpriz'd (with I pray Iove, it be Iohn) makes her in the very fact a Lucreece, a Goddesse of chastity, while Amphitruo is made a Iupiter and takes one of his principall attributes, even Capitolinus, which when he is so worshipp'd he weares hornes, which signify not (as we vulgarly imagine knavishly) but according [Page] to the Hebrew signification, light, shining, glorious or transparent. This whining passion of Shepheards was very antient among the Arcadians, who were the first pipers that we read of, but they made their nymphs dance after their musick, two or three to a flute; for the first age was Polygamou [...], they were stout lads, and more than Cock-a-twos. I wonder how the Don mist this praise of the golden Age in his Oration; I fear I shall find him a Castrill or a Pigill, like old Chrysoftome, or else thus transform'd, he would have had her by hook or by crook.

He made the Carols for Christmasse day at night.] As good songs, no doubt, as our Wassallers, or the Whitney singers tone upon those antient Festivals. His fancy sure could not be very high, where the subject and reward was but a spice boul; but it took excellently, and that's enough, Don could doe no more, and he that wrote in contempt of minor Poets thus, in that Elegy,

—You might safely swear,

This verse they wrote in wine, and this in heer.

Very critically observ'd; and yet to see the fate of the times, some like him, and some doe not, some cry hey for Garzinton, and some cry, hey for H [...]rs [...]path. E'en as they like, 'quoth the good fellow when he kis'd his Cow.

The Villagers could not guesse the cause of the two Students wonderfull change.] I can tell you of a stranger Metamorphosis, and of a Knight and an old one, (who by his yeares was fitter for the grave than a Lady) Who notwithstanding the silver Items on each side his face, and argont pendents of his chin, was resolved to stumble in at the Lover hole, before he fell into the pit, and so passionately pursued his affection, (Hercules was not more effeminate, when he turn'd Spinster to Cozen Omphale) that he shifted his Velv [...]t Truncks, which was his customary wearing, and habited All-a-mode in the long slopps, became a Monsieur of St Thomas Gresham, O strange Exchange [...] Then he cut off his reverend beard (which on Cato's face would have countenanced a rattle) and smoothed his cheeks, (which [...]he wind in fifty yeares had never kiss'd) and with a bla [...]-lead combe, chang'd the colour of those haires which were then Senatorian, and like a silver snow had covered the reverend house ten yeares beyond the Clymaterical; his close shooes alter'd into pumps, and he that could scarce goe without a staff, will now dance out of measure. He is turn'd Masker, Actor, and Author of a play, composed of Love, and at once personates himselfe, and is in act, Representative, Type and Antitype altogether: And all this like our Chr [...]sostome, to winne the affection of a most delicate Lady, who to he [...] beautie had wit also, and knew that a gentileman of four and twenty, was better company than old Aeson.

He had a face look'd like a blessing.] The context or words before will be comment to these; for a word or two backward, you shall find him enobled for a good fellow, thence you guesse, in what degree of beatitude his face was, an illustrious face, a glorious face, a bony face; or if you will have names more known and to the life, a Robin Good-fellowes face, a Bardolphs, a Furnifals Inne face, or a Bradwels face, which was the blesseddest that ever I saw, wherein there was not room for another blesssing, if you would have studied it. Our Hosts faces (if they have not the thorow [Page] blessing) yet their Noses commonly are in the Zenith, and as torrid as if they lay parcht under the Sunne, when he enters into Cancer. Dangerous faces, to come neer a Magazine, and as comfortable and refreshing in a frosty morning, they smell well, (as the English proverb hath it) such a Nose is worth a double tost in a pot of Ale, and will make it whisse as well as a hot steele. It hath other uses too, and very serviceable ones. It was ones fortune to prescribe a direction to a friend, (who was too impatient to follow it, being cholerick of constitution, and blessed in that part,) and it was concerning the fetching out a spot of grease from a sute, which the party imagin'd, should have been effected by brown paper and a coale, but the adviser said, with no coale (friend) only a brown paper indeed, which being applied to the middle part of his arme, on whom the mischance of Tallow fell, the patient, so I call him, though he prov'd otherwise, ask'd, and what now? e'n lay your Nose close to it, (said the Emperick) and it shall take it forth sooner then the best coale that comes from New-Castle. But the blade was Sr Iohn Oldcastle, Duke Humphrey never raged so, and made after the Emperick, whom if he had reach'd, he would have given him a fee for his Counsell, as good as he could have told with his ten ends of his toes. Thus you see that all blessed Faces are not charitable, for who, (but one that will carry no coales) would have rewarded a friend thus for his opinion, only in Face-hot presses.

Her Face had on the one side the Sunne, and the other side the Moon.] I see Peter is no kinne to him that keeps the Keyes where these Stars shine; what a heavenly wide face was this? wherein the Sunne and Moon must necessarily be ever in Eclipse one to the other, the interposition of the Nose being but small, and not casting shadow enough for a dyall, the Stars no doubt were like beauty specks all her body over, and from her breasts downeward, those infinite company of little Luminaries made a milky way, whither we must referr the man, (usually in the concave of the Moon) but now somewhat eccentrick; for it would have spoyled the Moony side of her face, to have had the pourtraicture of a man there. Beside the spoyling or crossing of the proverb, for the woman dyed in child-bed; but what of that? Sol & homo (as is aforesaid) generant hominem, as was here done; homo being Latine for Man or Woman, which at this time was born. But if the Man should have been in the Moon, it might have been Luna & homo generant, and it had been enough to have set the Sunne and the Moon, and the Man in the Moon together by the eares, with old William the Man of the house, about the Legitimacy of Marcela, which was the right Father; but they both dyed, and shee first, (as being the weaker) went to the old hole, and old William staied not long after, and indeed, according to Peters relation, I wonder the World did not end with her; for no doubt, but the Sunne and Moon were both extinguished at her death, and that is an absolute signe of the dissolution of the whole World.

Her Vncle was willing to marry her, as soon as she was of age, but not against her good will.] Marcelas parents dead, (old William and his Astronomia,) the Priest her Uncle was made Guardian of this falling Star, which at her Mothers departure to her fellow bodyes in the firmament, dropt by the way. The chiefe care for such a charge, the Priest presently pitch'd upon, advisedly, providently, and pater-familiarly. It is a great improvidence in [Page] Parents to let their daughters stay upon their hands like over-blown roses, till they become contemptible. A seasonable application, and timely looking forth is best (saith he of Banbury) in his Bride-bush, which to tha [...] purpose is very good, if a thorne or two were pluckt our of it: For as it is very good to provide, that the childrens, (I mean the young wenches) t [...]eth should not be set on edge, so it is too severe, if for a small fault, as the plucking of a crab, (for the sauce of such folly is alwaies verjuice) you make them tast of the Body of the Tree. A short, but apposite tale I shall tel you, and conducing much to the note; There was a Gentileman, who was very discreet, and searching into the natures and dispositions of his family, and finding amongst his Philocleas and Pamelas (his daughters, for their beautie some, and some from gravity might not be denyed these names) that one, and one of the least and youngest was ripest, and more requiring then the rest; Husbandically provided first, that wanted first, forthwith got a Principiis obsta, as they call it in Physick, or an Intus existens prohibet alienum. The Virgin overjoy'd, that her good houre was come, could not containe, and be content, that the servants should invite the guests, but her selfe would needs speake to some of especiall familiarity with her, unwilling any should forestall the news to those, whom she wish'd in the same happy condition with her selfe; which when shee had done to her play fellowes, (for she was not well wean'd from that society) they wondred and said, (good Lady!) Mrs Abigail, I pray how is it, that you are so forward, and leap over your sisters heads: We should never have believ'd it, but from your owne sweet lips. Truly (said shee) simpering, and with her hankerchiefe at her mouth, it were presumptuously done, but that my Father, who knowes me of an egg, gave very good reason for it, for he said, (I know not what he meant by it) that some eggs would hatch in an Oven, and that in hot weather, things won't keep without salt.

Parents are not to bestow their children [...] where they bear no liking.] To whom it concernes this. The worldly Parents of these dayes, are rather hucksters then Parents, and make markets of their children, Aquantum dabis, upon their heads, putting them off to him that will give most, without respect of yeares, or complyance in affection. So the Lands be coupled, the estates joyn'd, the parchments seal'd, 'tis no matter whether the two parties come in any other sheets. Like Sampsons Foxes, they meet, if ever, with sirebrands in their tailes, and burne up all that Patrimony (or Matrimony, say you which) that was so unhappily laid together: Matches made in the minority of both parties, are like those in a tinder box, for a short flame, not durable love, and goe out as soon. The Male commonly, is sent to travell halfe a dozen yeares, to know what to doe against he returnes, and in the mean time (scholars in that school, take too much, and turn over too many lessons;) he learnes more then doth him good: Sometimes (like an unfortunate Merchant) he brings home lesse then he carried out, and if he dare examine his Cocquets, he finds himselfe a shrewd loser. Miserable must needs be the condition of two so joyn'd, especially, if the Female have made experience, or was told by her Aunt or Grandmother, what incombe he might have made in his travels. As unfortunate it is, when fifteen joines to seventy, there's old doings (as they say) the Man and Wife sitting together like Ianuary and May day, his Nose with Isicles dangling, [Page] and her breasts as fire-bals, beating with a vigorous spirit, and never leaves the trepidations, till she hath got a Pericardiall Iulip, which she loves at her heart.

She cast her sutors from her, as with a sling.] Marcela was not like her in the Eclogues,

Quae fugit ad salices, sed se cup it ante videri,

Who runs into a bush her head to hide,

But glad with all her heart she was espi'd.

Shee was a sullen Shepheardesse, and meant to keep her virginity, till it was impregnable for ought she knew; for if it be fortified, or rather fiftyfied, 'tis as hard work, as the siege at Ostend; let it alone for me.

There is not one of the Beech Trees, in which Marcela's name is not ingraven.] Of these kind of Love-knots, the Arcadia is full, as Hide-Parke which will not be so full, as heretofore; therefore happy those Ladies, whose names are to be seen. As they would wish themselves in the bark-green, before that it was inclos'd, for it was impall'd before, and a price set of six pence a man, twelve pence a coach; I believe it is the best penny worth this day in the world, if there were but one season all the yeare, and that the Spring, But if you ever come to these Beech Trees, you shall finde excellently well cut by his owne hand, as the Monument of his true Love, and her cruelty: This insculpture of our unfortunate Lover in Capitall Letters.

CHRYSO—MAR and STOME—CELA.

Sancho did lay himselfe betwixt Rosinante and his Asse.] Sancho slept most of his story, only wak'd when the Goat-ticks stung him, for flea-bitings would not move him. But for the sight of a lodging, no man ever came neer him, he provided against all winds, for he lay revers'd with his head to the beasts tailes, so that when he turn'd North, he had the warme blasts of Rosinante, and on the South, the Fuzzings of his owne Asinego, betwixt which two naturall stoves (besides the unctious Lard wherein he batten'd) he slept as profoundly, roundly, and soundly, as if he had laine by the gentle, and sleep-moving murmurs, and ratlings of the silver currents, and the sweet and refreshing gales of Zephire, fanning his fooles face.

[Page]

CHAP. V.

Fie, what a pudder's here! A man, no place

Will serve, but that where he saw his Loves face,

There he will lay his bones; e'n at the rock,

Where first he saw Marcela's hemme 'oth' smock;

Actaeon like, the fool was peeping then,

When Women can't endure the sight of men.

I [...]st as if one a Lady bright should seize,

In that strange moment, when she [...]'s killing fleas;

Yet like Actaeon he would sain have borne,

Rathor then lost her, the faire sprouting horne.

The Nymph comes to the Funerall, and makes

A set Oration, which Don Quixot takes

Not by the eares, and yet it wrought so much,

That he the Lady saire doth stout avouch,

And justifies her Nay to all fond wooers;

What will they have her, soon as they come to her?

So [...] Fire will make good Malt; she will doe so,

Let 'um expect: what? a word and a blow?

Don Quixot, though Knight-Errant, thought not sit,

Though shee did want a man, to enter it.

TEXT.

THey saw six Shepheards more comming towards them in black skins.] 'Tis strange the Don did not think of accoutring himselfe according to the equipag [...], a sack-cloth, or black Goat skinne, would have made him a compleat mourner. But it seems it was repugnant to the order of Knight-Errantry, which does appear Az [...]e and Sa [...]les, black and blew, or else in no colours; yet he might be no unbecomming person there, for the Knight was a very dolorous object upon one side, (you know how pitifully a lugg'd sow looks) and therefore being a very lamentable spectacle himselfe, and a most pittifull spectator, you cannot without manifest injury to his passion, deny him to be a man of as much sorrow, (and a close mourner too) as any in the company.

This discourse thus ended, another began.] In vivaldo, you have pourtraicted unto you, the [...]orme of a wife Traveller, who studies men more then places, and rides his company more then the way. He is like the winged Peregrine, the Bee, who sucks from every flower something, till shee hath fill'd her sweet bagg, and laden her slender thighs with gummy balme, that her oares and sailes can hardly beare her up; when with her he comes to hive, at night he stores up his dayes gatherings, and what is worth his observation, goes into his cereous Tables, and what is not, pasles away at supper for Table-talke.

Since which time, never any Englishman kill'd a Cro [...].] The Metamorphosis, translation, or rather tranation of Arthur into a Crow, is not a Since [Page] in our Ephemerides or Almanack; how it scap'd [...] I know not, unlesse because he is waite, and the other black. But [...] well [...] Spaniard, we will grant that we kill n [...] Crows to ea [...], but to [...]right themselves and Kit [...]s from our fields, and such ravenous bir [...]s from our gardens, we doe;

Barbarus has segetes & culta Novalia [...];

Do [...]' [...] you Remember (Mcors [...]ace) Tilbu [...]y?

I doe believe we pluck'd a crow with yee.

Or if you deny it, I am sure we slew abundance of Rooks, (which were birds of a feather:) In 88. a yeare you may remember well, as also about the time of the Powder [...]plot; for the infinite love and reverence we owe to Artlurs bird, we gave the Crow a pudding [...]r [...]wo, which were first very good links, & then they were broil'd for the birds better digestion.

[...] Eglamore with divers others of that age.] Your Catalogue is not perfect, [...] as if an expurgatorius were upon it. I could help you, if I w [...]r [...] so minded, but because stultorum omnia plena, let Don Quixot and this Comment p [...]ne the Basket; what matter is it?

Nos [...] and though we be not three, we are two; and vel Duo v [...]l Nemo, both or none.

The Traveliers perceiv'd he was none of the w [...]sest.] It is strange to see the sagacity of some men, and their insight; though the Don though big, lookt big, & talkt big (which is the only way to set off the simples) yet these A [...]ingdon [...] (as they cal them) th [...]se Caprit [...]os, the Merchants, had him in the wind, and [...] him out to be a fool very handsomely, coucht under this notion, of no [...]e of the wisest; in all [...]aculti [...]s, in all pro [...]ssions, you (if you be curious and inquisitive) shall find some of these sor [...] of people, that they call none of the wis [...]st; and if you are given to strict observation, you shall find others, who do not move out of door, but they lay their business, the time, the place, the stay, the return, all so exactly and me [...]o [...]ically, as if it were by a s [...]h [...]me: And these, when all this pains and forecasting is bestowed, (though they wil not be thought so) are none of the wisest; nay, these criticks and [...] s [...]rcrs of mens ma [...]ners, garbs, discourses, clothes, (I knew one so punctuall, that he could tell how many buttons his friends had to their suits, and how many clocks; were in their bands,) are even as their object, nay, some super-superlative, none of the wisest: I leave off this note, with a worthy piece of indignation, of a scholar I cannot say, but of one who wore a gow [...], who hated a gentileman of such a house, only for this Reason, that he was the first (for the other had lain long hid and obscure) who discovered him to be a fool.

I doe believe, the Monks of Char [...]er-house liv'd not such s [...]ict lives as the Knight-Err [...].] The Don is at his oration againe, and by the length of them they are [...]ceron [...]an. I shall once more take the paines to run it into verse, and [...] it is a question, as it were stated by the Don, that Errantry is a [...] life then Monkery; we will suppose Vival [...]o for the Monk, and the Don in his owne person, shall by way of a short and pi [...]hie dialogue, canvasse the matter over againe, 'till convinced by the pregnancy of both reasons, you yield to which your judgement shall incline.

[Page]

VIVALDO.

Piety forbids to raile; I will be civill,

Though I encounter with incarnate Divell!

Knight-Errants to compare with Monks? what hopes

From our shav'd Crowns, course coates, and girded ropes?

If one, whose hands are purple with man-slaughter,

Shall think to be in Limbo Monkes hereafter;

QUIXOT.

Father I say not so, i'le ne'r desire

To come to yours, or good St 'Tonies fire.

Enjoy your Limbus to your selves, I know

You doe deserve enough for living so,

So barely, poorly, basely; yet for all that,

(Sure 'tis Gods blessing,) you're all very fat;

If that your Limbus be a fa [...]'ning fier,

Make hast unto't, you'l make a jolly Fryar.

VIVALDO.

Not so much speed (Knight-Errant) you ran post,

But 'lasse you never read of Wandring Ghost,

Of a Knight yet uninterr'd, who sodaine dy'd,

And never men nor God have mercy cry'd,

And there may wander on the Stygian verge,

For want of mony, to procure a derge.

We are content to live within our Cel,

Praying for such as you, who sight for Hell,

And in a desperate frenzy doe such Deeds

Which puts us Monks unto our nightly Beads.

QUIXOT.

Father, we are for fighting, not for pray',

I have not said that thing this many a day;

Only Dulcinea help me, smile upon

Thy Don, and blesse him in the action;

When Gyant doth lay on with stump of Tree,

Then deer Dulcinea, down upon thy knee,

And that's enough, that without word spoken,

Confounds all weapons, whether steel or oaken.

VIVALDO.

Is this devotion? 'twere a sin to smile;

Dulcinea helpe! how you your soule beguile?

You must invoke some other kind of Saints

As are departed, who did know our wants,

And feel them too, who livd cum-vobis,

And to those cry, orat' orat' pro nobis.

Pray Sancta Clara, Bridget, Frances Win,

And pray Loretto, against all my sinne,

And pray good Katherine, that didst wind thy wheel,

That I by fumes of drinke may never reel:

O pray all Saints of ages and of Sexes,

Against all evill, that our soule perplexes.

[Page]

QUIXOT.

What though I say no hymnes, nor Ave-Maries,

I fast, and keep a dyet like the Faries;

Sancho shall witnesse it to good St Peter,

That when I have to eat, I'm no great eater.

I've read of Peters sheet, and large provision,

But I was ne'r in any such condition;

Sheets I renounce, and victuals I have none,

Sancho produce the Wallet; See, all's gone:

Who does endure so much? besides I'm batter'd,

Thirstie and lowsie, gall'd, tatter'd and shatter'd:

Shew me throughout the World so wo' a fight,

As I at present, and yet I'm a Knight.

VIVALDO.

I grant, you Errants are a ruefull Tribe,

Like wandring Jewes indeed, (without a gibe)

Yet though you want from lasting, to e're-lasting,

You cannot call this a religious f [...]sting.

This is plaine hunger, want of vict'-als,

Poor rogues, you'd need be sent to some Hos-pitals.

But we a thousand Ave-Maries say,

And night by night, and day by day we pray:

We fast indeed, for though we have good Wine

And oyle, and all that pampers up the groyne;

Yet in the sight and smell of a Full Kitching,

Wee to our Crosses goe, Pennance, and Breeching;

And what we doe, that does the pretty Nunne,

Vp goes her trinkets too, sure as a gunne;

And when w [...] have [...]orti [...]i'd and tam'd the flesh,

We feed with stomacks good, as they that thresh.

Which in my opinion, is a kind of Gentilisme.] I must fall to my notes againe, for neither in verse nor prose, sea or by land, high way or field, must a Knight-Errant be worsted; therefore the issue of the Poem lies doubtfull, and conclude them both with

Et vitulo tu dignus & hic;

No quarrell upon any ones behalfe,

They doe deserve alike; Divide the Calfe.

Don Quixots Religion, though not his fare, is very like that of Ch [...]ur [...]rs Physitian,

Whose meat was good and digestible,

But not a word he utter'd from the Bible.

Knight-Errants have neither grace nor meat, unlesse it should fortune his Ladies name should be so, then perchance when he fell on, not when [...]e fel to, Grace might be said. They fall upon food, and adventure [...], Car [...]iers and Goates-flesh as ungodly, as we doe upon Oysters, Mellons or raw Hartichokes. There are few Christians of the order, they being generally Apostates, or voluntary Mahume [...]ans, and subscribers to the [...]: For according to the principles of that fabulous book, they Knight-Errant i [...] from this world into the next, with a [...] here, to [...] [Page] there, Toboso being chang'd pro Paradis [...]; and his Dulcinea's twinclers enlarged to the full breadth of Queen Proserpines sawcers,Turkish Paradise. which the Lady Margery Owletia, at the largest extention, can no way compare to.

If the Lady be in place, he turnes amorously to her his face, &c.] In these words, if you will, but they are too good for a neates tongue, or a Calves head, being borrowed from that excellent play Lingu [...], in Tactus his speech when he was mad, and supposed himselfe Hercules:

Omphale dear, Commandresse of my life,

My hearts repose, sweet Center of my cares,

See where the mighty sonne of Jupiter

Casts himselfe prostrate at thy conquering feet;

Scorne not my voluntary humblenesse,

But blesse me with Commands.

Or if you will have our Knight-Mummers owne words, which like Abel Druggers ginger-bread, must melt out of his mouth before you can heare it, heare 'um e'n as good as mine Host mutter'd over him at the consecrating of him Knight-Errant, out of his provender book of Ceremonies.

Toboso's honour, and Toboso's shame

Known unto none but me by thy new name,

Not to thy selfe; for thou poor simple wretch,

Canst not conceive a name of that high fetch,

As great Dulcinea, and in Tobo-so,

Thou art so poor, it grieves me see thee goe-so.

The Sailes of Gyant VVindmils shall be smocks

For thee my heart, or it shall cost me knocks:

No linings can be cooler, nor no Fanne

Us'd by the Persian or Mahumetan.

VVhat prowess can't obtaine, Sancho shall steal,

Thou shalt receive, and I will stout conceale.

Only thy count'nance grant, grinne on thy Knight,

O shew thy teeth upon thy Favorite;

Give a good glose from thy strain'd goggle eye,

And as a ball from Canon shoot I fly.

There is no History wherein is found a Knight-Errant without a Love,] A Knight without a Lady, is like a Face without a Nose, a fiddle without a bridge, a body without a head, a souldier without a sword, a Monkey without a taile, a Lady without a looking-glasse, a glasse without a face, a Face without a Nose, ‘and so about it goes.’

All Foyters, men o'th' sword, Hectors, Herculeans, Samsonians, are all of them Pamphilians, that is, universall servants to all Ladies who have faire faces, fairer fortunes, lusty Butteresses, and requiring gascoynes. Indeed, there are a sort of men call'd Solifidians, such who have vow'd to one single piece of surpassing excellency their faith and services, and so are ingross'd and inclos'd, and made severall, who before were common. Of this order and rank was our Don, who would be believed constant to Toboso, yet I suspect him, for you shall find him running at sheep anon; I doe no [...] [Page] meane for hunger, but lust; he loved mutton literally and metaphorically, as will appeare by his pursuit of Marcela, whom had he overtaken (after the Goat was digested) I know what kinde of pulse he would have had, that which they call Caprizans, and you may guesse the rest.

Shee is not of the Roman Curtios, Caios, or Scipios.] Her lineage is very large and spreading, and infinitely branch'd (exceeding Iustinians [...] ree, on the negative line or side) but very thinne, empty and lanck upon the positive; I doe believe shee could scarce run two ascents without the help of a Town or Parish, where her Grandfather was found, and for want of friends and acquaintance, accepted of the name of the place, and it is very likely to be the true genealogy, for by her bulke shee must necessarily be imagin'd to descend from some body corporate, left by some body politick, and kept by some body Civill, or else-spem greg is ah nu [...] shee was (for the Don hath not yet discovered her as shee is naturally, or rather domestically endowed, but sets her out in her crranticall titles, and the fantasticall and imaginary apprehensions of her future Queen-ship) shee was I say, Aulica Coquinae, and of that litter which is but a degree neater or finer then the turne-spits, if the dog at any time was weary, cry a wheel, and shee knew not whether it was her turne or no, only shee did it without side, the dog within, shee by hand, that by foot. Many of her kindred are knew not by the names of Cicely Bumtrinket, Gillian of Winchester, Long Meg, Ione Easie, besides the Fustyloeggs, the Dowdees, the Trollops, the Maukins, the Fussocks, the Trugmouldies, the Funcos; all which were Fausen sluts, like Bartholmew Faire pig-dressers, who look at the same time like the damms, as well as the Cooks of what they roasted.

Sancho Pancha did verily believe all his Masters words were true.] Sancho, though he was not train'd up to second his Masters lyes, yet he had as good a quality, which was to hold his peace and let them passe. Davus had no better commendations then fides & Taci [...]urnitas, as saith the Comaedian in Andri [...]. A Spanish sh [...]ugg will shift off a lie sometimes as well as a louse.

This is the Body of Chrysostome, who was peerlesse, &c.] Now we must leave fooling, we are at a funerall, and Chrysostomes body a spectacle of mortality is before us, Signior Ambrosio likewise hath a pastoral oration for his brother Shepheard deceased, staine by the negative voice of Marcela, who this night is to be rail'd upon by the black skins, in as lamentable noyse, as the wild Irish make their O hones. As for example;

O hone O hone! why wouldst thou dye good Chryfostome? hadst thou not Sheep and Oxen, I and Cowes, yea and red Cowes (whose milk is good against the Consumption?) hadst thou no [...] Orchard and Gardens, and sage in those Gardens? which whosoever hath and eates, how canst thou dye? Was not thy Father and Mother dead and left thee all, why wilt thou dy? O bone! hadst thou not wit more then all thy friends, neighbours and kindred? and why then wouldst thou dye, and leave us fools behind thee, but O hone! We will follow thee even to that place where thou receivedst thy deaths wound, O hone! for a womans denyall, O hone! didst thou not know? yes, too well, that caeteri volunt, O hone! or a whetstone, for my wits are very dull upon this melancholy subject.

[Page] He commanded mee to sacrifice them to the fire.] What volumes of this hard subject had this Loves-Martyr wrote? which after this fire, were never to see light. It was well done of Vivaldo to endeavour the reprieve; for the vapours of so much discontented, sad, melancholy stuff, might in an ill time affected all the standers by, and wrought such sad impressions in their braines, that the party that were single might have disavow'd womenkind, and then it might have (had the example been followed) brought the World to a conclusion that Age, and the parties married would have no doubt gone home, and for feare of such unkindnesse, so laboured to please their wives (for men doe strange feats when they are melancholy) that the numerous fruits of one nights benevolence, would have so peopled the world, that Spaine could not have kept them, though it might containe them, and so put the succeision to seek new habitations in the West Indies, who are as glad of their company, as of the Feinds.

Which had this title, A ditty of despaire.] I shall change the name of it, and call it the Ditty of Comfort; because I presume, though I doe not desire the same subject (that is, an unflexible Mistresse) that I can make as good a one my selfe. So when a Lady sees a face not of extraordinary symmetry, let her call it a comfortable face, hers is as good. When a Sermon is preach'd not of too singular composure, but plaine and easie of apprehension, that also is a comfortable Sermon, another man may doe as well; and so for other things, as your owne application shall best serve.

CHAP. VI.

The Canzone of Chrysostome in Despaire.

Give eare unto my Elegy,

Or shall I call it Legacy;

Let it be both: For in it I deplore

My owne sad love, and charge you give it o're.

My yeares, when first I saw that face;

(Had I ne'r seen her nor the place,

Where bathing shee set me on fire:

Strange! water should incense desire,

I had been happy) but my yeares

Bad me be bold, though my heart feares.

No such Orient Pearle Dian 'shed

From her pure skin, and drenched head,

When that the silver streame grew rich,

And found her water pearly, which

Dropt from the Goddesse, and now Graces

Her Nymphs, and serve them for neck-laces.

Marcela as she bath'd her limbs,

Th' enamour'd fountaine standing seems;

[Page] And the Flee [...] waters could not move,

Turn'd to a lake by powerfull love.

The bowes together twist, and shew

That you and I ought to doe so:

And all the birds in a joynt quire,

Did sing her into soft desire.

In gentle murmures the kind wind,

Conveig'd into her eare my mind;

Which when shee heard, she straightway dight

Her robes, and did her selfe benight;

As from the howling of a Woolfe,

And from the fountaine as a gulfe,

From all the birds as birds of prey,

From winds, as bands shee flew away:

And as shee unrevoked ran,

Shee thought each tree to be a man.

But I had grav'd in thousand rinde [...]

My loves, which where she written f [...]ndes,

She barks (hard heart) the guiltlesse tree,

And so by proxie murders me.

Enjoy thy cruelty, ile fall

The Martyr of thy spleen and gall;

Triumph in scorne, 't shall be in vain

Relenting, wish me live againe.

For by that rock ile buried be,

The emblem of thy crueltie;

Marpesia, lose thy craggie name,

Marcela is the rock of Fame,

Fam'd for the death of Chrysostome,

His life sometimes, but now his doom;

Thou lend'st indeed a thread, ab but

It was no sooner lent, but cut;

A face thou shewdst, aspring of life,

But in thy tongue there was a knife:

Soft as the Down of Swans thy skin,

But thy heart was adamantine.

Learn all of me, Shepheards be wise,

And come not neer those charming eyes;

For if shee catch you in the flame,

Shee'l hold, and burn you in the same;

Let her range on among the Beast [...],

You'l find [...]'th' Heard more gentler Breasts,

And make your suites to stocks and trees,

They will be mov'd, they 've Sympathies.

But this Marcela's only skin

Without, and patri [...]ed within.

Remember what a dying man

Saies, and the Can [...]ns of the Swan;

[Page] When e'r this cruell faire one dies,

I charge you her anatomi [...]e,

And when shee's found, as I relate,

Such stone you cannot penetrate;

Lay her upon my open grave,

No other Tombe-stone I will have.

TEXT.

ON the top of the rock whereon they made the grave, the Shepherdesse Marcela did appeare.]

See where our Cynthia shines, but harke,

Though the Moon shine, the dogs will barke.

Our Don and Rosinante both neigh,

Forgot is foule Dulcinea;

He would adventure a sound knock,

to change his Dul' for her 'oth' rock.

Ambrosio impatient at that sight, was able to compose the quarrels of brethren, rather barkt then spoke, and in most bitter Billinsgate Rhetorick, bespatters a Lady of most immaculate same, and firm constancy, as the Pedestall she trod on, the rock: Bona verba, better words good Ambrosio, what, downe right Basilisk [...], stern [...] Nature, Mercilesse Nero, Tullia, who would have lookt for such N [...]ctar with Ambrosio?

I come not here (good Ambrosio) quoth Marcela, to any of those ends thou saiest.] Marcelas speech is a pure defence of resolv'd virginity, vow'd Nu [...]nery, a rigid constancy, and obstinate resolution to gather nuts all the vacation long, which are very stipticall, and the bodies that feed much upon 'um, costive, and seldome loose.

Our faire Hippolyta dedicates her selfe to the Forrests and Woods, where exercise and continuall labou [...] and variety, give check to all those paisions, which a sedentary and lazy life are subject to. Spinning will not qualifie nor suppresse those fancies so much, they are not allayed with a wet finger: Carding can doe no lesse, which (as it would affect somewhat,) our Ladies doe most intollerably ply. But Tib and Tom are not of the Wool-pack, nor those stocks of the primitive good house-wifry. Though this life of Shepheardizing be out of fashion, yet farre better doe they, who in remembrance of these rare pieces of abstinence, busie themselves in rockwork, in Civet-baskets, in waxen Fruit-Trees, in making Adams and Eves even in wax, representing their state of innocency, in framing Paradise, Babell, Ierusalem, Nin [...], Troy, or any thing, rather then setting up t'other dozen, or wasting the week amongst young gallants, who, to shew their breeding, must los [...] their mony fashionably, pay the box generously, and so they winne, shall I say, or rather lose (for unlesse they lose they shall be accounted hard-h [...]ads) the reputation of compleat Courtiers. To all of this Marcela is an example, and a plea, a pres [...]dent and leading Case to all such Ladies (if any such there be) whose servants have departed out of this world upon the same occasion taken, that Chrysostome did: Shee in this eloquent speech, doth [...] all refractory damosels, from the least accessarinesse or lyablenesse of guilt from the ends (violent or melancholy) [Page] of their puling, s [...]iv [...]ling, or Hen-hearted Servants. No woman is to be indicted, as cruell Spinster, for the shortned thred of Tom Fooles life; if he dye or runne mad, or beyond [...]ea, or vow not to shave his Beard or powder his Cock scombe, or ride in a Coach or Seda [...], or goe to Sermon (that is to wait upon a Lady to Church) upon the Repulse, the Maidens, nay, the harsh Letter, the Frown [...], the Gloat, the Hung-lip, the Neglect, the Go-by, the Bannimus from the Table, return'd Presents Letters, Fancies, (all but kisses and Banquets) of the most exquisite Marcela in the world. Oh Chrysostome, Chrysostome, thou wert Felo [...] Te; Thou didst cast away thine owne life, and dese [...]vedst to he stak'd as well as buried in the open fields, for being such a Goose, Widgeon, and Niddecock to dye for love: Of which sort before you shall find one in the Bill of Mortality, you shall find ten thousand dye of Grief, and the Rickets, which is a disease, when the head sucks all the nu [...]riment from the rest of the Members.

I never gave any hopes to Chrysostom [...] or any others.] Our brother departed is to be blam [...]d more and more, that will take no Answer: she told him (in plaine English as they say) [...] she could not love him or any one: What cann't be cann't be: It's bett [...] to goe out of the house, than to be thrust out, and be laughed at. But this Pagan Scholar would not beleeve a Woman in the Negative to her owne good, he had read no doubt of some one, who said, she would embrace Fire or the Faggot, rather than such a One, and in a fortnight the Imprecation forgot, she hath been tyed and bound up to that more abhorred stake. His [...] ne cred [...] here fail'd, Marcela was resolute and stout to her Quanquam: not like tha [...] tergiversating and back-sliding Lady, who desperately vow'd and threatned the Ponyard, present death upon a libidinous assaulter, who notwithstanding the apparent and instant hazzard of his life, (gracelesse wre [...]ch) fell on and storm'd his peremptory desire, so furiously and inconsiderately, that had not very much mercy been eminent at that nick of time in the Lady, the Assailant, if he had a thousand lives, they must have been lo [...]t all. Such an unvanquishable spirit no Age hath met with, as was found in Marcela, who without doubt was of Amazonian Constancy, and could have rather endured one breast cut off, than a Child sucking at 'um: rather the Bowes and Arrowes with the Man-like Quiver at her back, then that any effeminate shaft should come night her Quiver: rather the Busk in upon he [...] halfe way covered Legges, then endured the lac't Pantofle, the silk Stocking, the button'd Smock, or the sweet bag at her Pillow, or a Pillow to her Downe-bed, or any bed but the Downes themselves; where shee lay and compos'd this ensuing Poem, to answer the untrue, and unjust accusations of Chrysostome and his fellow Shepheard, netled Ambrosi [...].

MARCELA [...] Plea.

I doe appeale to all my Sex,

Whom tedious suiters hour [...]ly [...],

And chiefe to those (if any [...])

Vnder my vow of Chastity.

If none be found, then I [...]

Such as the Matrimoniall

[Page] Nooze hath caught fast, but gladly would

Be such as I am, if they could.

Is it my sinne for to be faire?

T' have pleasing Fetters in my haire?

T' have an eye made for to kill,

Or to revive at mine owne will?

And such a voice as Birds stand mute

To heare? and dye as on his Lute

Once fell the Nightingale,

And fainted when her voice did faile?

To have two ri [...]ing lips, yet such

A [...] onely know each others Touch?

A hand so small and snowy white,

'Twould serve to light you in the night.

A Breast where Azure veines are drawne,

(Soft as the Water, or the Lawne;)

Yet plimming by a generous heat,

That alwayes by one Pulse did [...]eat:

Pasternes upright, so small a [...],

It puts the Does, and Hindes unto't

To tread so nimbly o'r the Plaines,

And tires the heavy clo [...]ted Swaines.

Nature if these be crimes, I lay

On thee the charges of this day.

But if what thou didst freely give,

I meane to keep, long as I live,

Pure and unsullied, as the Rose,

(Not tainted by approach of nose.)

Why am I blam'd? Cause Ile not part

With these, by giving up my heart

Into anothers mast'ring power,

To crop at's pleasure ev'ry Flower?

If I decoy'd a simple Swain,

Or gave him hopes to come againe:

If I receiv'd a Gyrland, or

(When that I knew what he plaid for)

Would heare his baited Layes,

Or gave him either smile, or praise,

Let him appeale unto that smile,

And Ise no more his hopes beguile.

But when I've told so oft my mind,

Which you may read, if you're not blind,

Through my transparent skinne, that I

Intend to live a maid, and dye;

If like this Chrysostome you pine

To death, it is no fault of mine.

I am and will be on my vow,

Answer my Riddle, if you can tell [...].

Had I submitted to thy Foolerie,

I must be false unto my selfe and thee,

[Page] If I that had vow'd Chastity before,

Should marrie, married I should play the whore;

For marrying to be chaste to thee I vow,

How art thou sur [...], when I broke one but now.

'Tis onely she alone that lives therein with honest intention.] How now Don, I begin to smell a Rat, if Marcela alone, if these honest intentions, what is she of Toboso? This cannot be forgetfulnesse or incaution, for it was morning, and he was fresh and fasting. On my life Dulcinea was no better than she should be, pray heaven she were so good: yet it may be he spoke this somewhat hyperb [...]icall [...] that is [...]gnorantly, as the good chaste wife, who s [...]pri [...]ed with a Quaeri [...] from h [...]r jealous husband, who had heard abroad amongst his Neighbours, that there were but two men in his parish that were not Cuckolds, could not stay any longer, but forth-with repaired to his wife, and told her the st [...]rie, and was very inquisitive and urgent with her to resolve him, whether she knew or could ghesse who those two happy men were: The good soule not reflecting upon her husband, or her owne vindication, being secure at home, puzled her selfe to satisfie him of those abroad; but knowing how unhappily she was situate, and confident of the truth of the rumors, she protested she could not possibly ghesse who those two should be; which rais'd such a dissention betwixt them, and her husband was so touchy for no cause at all given, that the good woman was forc'd to the course her neighbours used, onely to live a quiet life with her Husband, who after he was come into the honest list, was more contented than ever before; and his wife, by such Arts as her Gossips taught her, quite rid him of all his jealousie, which in the time of her constancy to his Bed, he was ever plagued withall.

Which Ambrosio said was to be after this manner.] But I beleeve Marcelas was more proper which she engraved in the Bark of a tree, just against the place of the Rock where the unfortunate Sutor lay.

Suffer kinde tree this Epit [...]ph to grow

With thee, and as thy G [...]mmes doe flow,

Into [...]be the Words, that none may dare

To take them thence, but see they're there.

EPITAPH.

Against this Tree d [...]th lye a Swaine,

Who dy'd indeed, but lov'd in vaine,

Who hop'd t'have been Marcela's Lord,

But dy'd upon a cruell word:

To whom I wish'd a longer life,

But not as be, to be his wife.

Yet if his Dust conten [...] can have,

Ile [...]ingle Ashes in the grave:

And when it is my welcome Turne,

What Bed deny'd, enjoy i'th' [...]

The end of the Second Book▪

[Page]

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DON QUIXOT. BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

Swift as the Roe, Virgin Marcela flies,

The Don can onely follow her with Cries;

But our Atlanta doth not minde his Calls,

Nor hath the Don or gold, or gilded Balls

To bait her flight: but both resolve together

To bait themselves, and let the Devill go with her.

The grasse is Table to the Don, and meat

To Rosinant, who full was for a feat,

And lust full, scents the Mares Gallician,

And presently is for coition:

The lab'ring [...]ades were not for wanton tricks,

But answer his Levalto's with shrewd kicks.

But Rosinant persists, and maugre packs,

He mounts (girt-burst) upon their skittish backs;

But the Yanguesian Carriers with Battoon

Did cudgell out of's side the salt Baboon,

And tam'd him straight; where at the enraged Don

Enters the Lists, but had blowes three for one.

And Sancho too was here a Combatant,

But you will know the issue by the plaint:

Plainiffs were both, both Sancho and his Master,

Defendants none, the Umpire is a plaster.

TEXT.

TRavelling the space of two houres without finding her, they arived to a pleasant Me [...]w.] Marcela was too quick of foot for the Don; she that used to chase the vvilde Boare, and ore-take the wounded Stagge, hovv vvas it possible that an over-ridden Stallion, or a tame Asse should over-reach her. Horse and Asses tir'd, and soultred with the heat of the day more than affection [Page] they flung their caps at her, (they had tassell ones in their pockets) and cryed as we doe of a Hare escaped, let her goe 'tis but dry meat. But the Meadow is got, the pleasant smiling Meadow, but no Marcela to bestowe a green gowne on; here is the pure and refreshing streame, but not Marcela, who us'd to dresse her sweet face in it, made more sleek, lovely, and glassy, by receiving and returning those lines and imagery to those eyes which were only fit to behold them.

They did fall to with good accord and fellowship.] Hopelesse of satisfying their eyes, they consult how to pleasure the rest of their senses; and (the Don being maimed in the Organ of one of the chiefest) it was high time to provide for the maintenance of the rest; ‘—Strato discumbiter Ostro:’

The green Carpet was laid before them and they (more graecorum, in their lying down, not at this time in taking up, for they had no Caecubum) I may say too more Brutoni, for Bos pro cumbit humi, they I say laid themselves downe, falling to it, haile fellow well met; Sancho prov'd the nimbler feeder, having his nose seldome out of the Manger, which, the Don did not so much mind, because he often gaz'd about for adventures, and did not follow his blow, or rather his stroake, (for this encounter is of the Teeth) insomuch, that Sancho was the Knight of the Meadow, though the Squire of the High-way.

Rosinante had a desire to solace himselfe with the Lady Mares.] Rosinante it seems was not runne off all his metall, he was back'd to enterprizes, and would have had a Barriers with a Gallician Philly, which was a great errour in the Cephael-Errant, for he was by ordure of his horse-hood, to have reliev'd the Lady Mares, (not as Spanish Iennets are begot, nor in that corner) who were oppress'd and overladen with heavi [...] packs, and ought not to have laid more sacks to the Mill (as they say) being the only horse of the only Lady-relieving Knight now remaining in the whole world. But the Yanguesian Carriers (finding the Beast troubled with melancholy) presently flew in to the assistance of their Mares, who had hitherto (more then many rationall creatures will doe) defended themselves from this foule ravisher with their heeles. But now Rosinante is at the stoole of repentance, never was paure Brute so hamper'd for wicked intentions, never such sharp blowes for the gentle stroakes that he meant to his Galician sweetharts; besides that, he did carrie the favours of one of the goodliest amongst them upon his flank (as plain a Mare-shooe, as ever was made by Smith;) these Battoone marks were too intollerable, (which their Masters did accumulate upon his hide) till he lay down upon the grasse, worse tired with this wooden entertainment, then if he had all-abroud (as the Scotch Kerle saith) aw the Phillyes one after another upon the place.

Sancho at the second Peale is struck downe, and the Don fell at his Coursers feet.] Love me, and love my dog. It was a signe Sancho did not heartily affect the Don, that he was so unwilling to relieve Rosinante from the Yanguesian Gyants; but he had reason for it, he saw their number, and the noise of the weapons, from Rosinante's sides, made him provide for his own: Feare hath a quick eare, and though it was tickled with the government of the Island, (which alwaies buzz'd in the hollow of it) yet he perceived it was a desperate causway that conducted thither, and that he should [Page] undergoe very strict discipline, before he came to exercise any. And so it proved; for though he was spurr'd up with hopes by the couragious inspirations of the Don, yet (alas, notwithstanding he collected his full spirit) what were Hercules and Lycas against more then twelve labours at once, or rather labourers? whom Sancho very properly advised not to charge on foot, or indeed at all, or to engage upon a horse quarrell, which would gaine no credit in History, and especially if they should be foil'd; what a blemish would it be in the book that was to be wrote of them? to see in a great Cut or Brasse leafe, there Rosinante laid breathlesse, and by him the Don, not able to heave a side or stir a limbe, or stretch forth a hand, and Sancho in wofull manner pictur'd aloof off with his face to the ground, asham'd to looke up to Heaven, or upon man or beast, after this ignoble victory; Only the Asse, reserv'd to carry away the blushing spoiles of the field, will be seen in the piece free, grazing and leaping, and as having more wit then three, contented himselfe with his pasture, not like Rosinante given to lust, nor like both the fools (I mean as to this enterprize) his masters given to revenge.

The Carriers with all possible speed, trussing up their loading, followed on their way.] Fuga est pro culpâ: A guilty Conscience is a thousand Judges, Juries and witnesses. But who shall make hue and cry after them? who shall raise the Country? It being done betwixt Sunne and Sunne, the hundred was to pay for the Injury done by the Carriers, which were wont to pay for injuries done to them: But it was secure as to that matter, for cantabit vacuus. The Don fear'd no robbing, and as for their Brutes, they were not worth stealing; Nothing was taken from them, the fault was in what was given them, and not the hundreds nor ten thousands could take it off. Sancho more wise (for in a [...]flictions he got experience) then his Master, (who, like his Couzen in the mortar, never profited) remembred his Lord of the liquor at Feoblas, which was much, that his head (so disordered) could containe so hard a word in it. But as for the Balsamum Fierebras, it was at that distance, (as a Doctor of Physicks remedy was in time of present application) some forty or fifty miles off, but this farther, not in Facto, (though as by the name appeares) but in Fieri.

I cannot set a time for our recovery, but I am in the fault of all.] Statutum est semel mori, the Don kn [...]w that; but as for the stati dies of a sicknesse, the beginnings, declinings, perfections of any disease, herein the Don was to seek as much as for his Balsame; but pares in culpâ, pares in poenâ, like Master like man, Sancho was cheek by jowle at dinner, and now he is jowl'd with him after dinner. But confession is the first step to repentance, though a foot could not be mov'd by either of them, yet notwithstanding it was reall, for here was contrition, (or rather attrition) also adjoin'd, and an absolute resolution upon Sanchos part, never to play such a prank againe, with endeavour of satisfaction, and an Act of Oblivion to these Banguesian Carriers. There wanted now the Monks of his former adventure to pronounce the absolution, and the Don was fit for Heaven; and so he was without it (as to the matter, though the forme were wanting) yet he lookt to get that Paradise purely by suffering, which Sancho (unlesse at this time the purchase was paid for it) desired some other way might be atchiev'd.

Draw thou, and chastise them at thy pleasure.] DON QVIXOT very [Page] cunningly, but nobly, would have entail'd these inferiour Encounters upon Sancho and his heires Male. Indeed dry-bastings, cudgelings, surcinglings were too mean for a Knight, and more compatible with his Squire, who by often malleations, hammerings, poundings, and threshings, might in good time be beaten out into the forme of a gentileman: For he was like a wedge now, or like gold in the Oare, thick and rough, and no doubt, but these Yanguesians did but act the part of Goldsmiths, who with much labour, polish, and surbish up the splendor of rough-cast metals. After some few experiences of this G [...]ldsmiths-Hall Furnace, the man no doubt would be far fitter for the government of the intended Island, who in the shape he now was, cannot be esteem'd proportionable for any plantation, unlesse it were in the Antipodes.

What would become of thee, who dost disable thy selfe in respect thou art not a Knight, nor desirest to be.] Here Sancho had almost lost a Hog for want of a halfe-penny-worth of Tar. The hopes of an Island (and that no small one) rather then compleat his Errantry through blunts to sharpes, through surcingles, to the garters and Zones of Amazones. The Don excellently well upbraides and excites his coward-spirits, setting before his eyes (which were much benefited by looking upon the green grasse) how venerable, of what [...]igh esteem among the Romans the Veterani were, who were nought else but old beaten Souldiers. What respect a Captaine gaines, who at his return views his Country, and shee him, with a face and skinne as scarrified as that body before an Almanack, a signe of what danger he has runne through, as those are of the Sun passing through the Zodiack: Then after his departure, to have this skinne hung up in the school of Anatomy, where every year, thousands of Ladies view the Monumentall fore-skin, with as much joy as did the Hebrew damzels, those of the slain Philistines; what and how many legs hath a Colonell (whom an honourable shot hath left but one to) in place of that? All eyes will look upon him, who hath lost one: Polypheme was more star'd at then 'Ulysses, and Argus, if ever he had the fortune to see him, more wondred at his sawcer, then all his owne hundred of small eye-let-holes. Every man lends an hand to the Officer with one arme; nay, our very enemies (after the hot disputes are passed) are in honour with us very much, especially, if by some great piece of valorous hazard, (the signes whereof are eminent and visible) they beare the Characters of their own gallantry, and of successe. Such Sancho was my eare, and ever will be throughout Bisca [...]a, and all eares will glow, in memory of the blood I lost from that. Doe but recount (for I must speech out this timorousnesse from thy head and heart) recollect with thy selfe I say, what honour a Ship hath (senselesse of the thing done to her) which is famous for some singular Sea-service, the water-men speak nobly of her, tell their passengers how bravely she behav'd her selfe at Lepanto, at the Golph D'i Venice, in the Mediterraneum, in the Straights, at Gibberall Terk, amongst the Cypriots, the Candiots, the Smyrniots, the Scyots, the Scanderouns, and many more Islands, where she hath taken in fresh, and whether the joyfull natives runne, as much wondering to see her honourable Barke, as if a Sturgeon, a Sea-Calfe, a Porcipize, a shark, a sword-fish, or Leviathan himselfe had been cast a-shore, and could not retumble his vast hulk into the maine Sea againe.

[Page] The pains of the disgrace doth not so much trouble me as the griefe of the blowes, &c.] These Orations rais'd not Sancho's spirits a jot, nor his body from the ground: Inso much, that he gave over the thought of the government of the Island, and imagin'd he had taken possession of the Continent, where he lay a Living Lease seal'd upon the ground, yet not in case to molest any Trespassers. For unlesse Rosinante could be caught againe and his Asse, what likelihood of any other Purchase, then this of the Turff? Rosinante was the concluded Author of these last mischiefes.

—Equo ne credite Teucri.

Never trust a modest-lookt Stallion, your soberest Jades are firkers in Corners, and your horse that sayes least is (like the silent Sow) for Draft-Mares. But Sancho was resolv'd to humble him, if grasse and hay can doe it; he is to be interdicted Oats and all Flatulent and erecting dyet for a Moneth; but had rem been prov'd in re, his mouth had been excommun'd Provender for ever; for a lascivious futring jade could never prosperously carry the chaste body of a Knight Errant through his Virgin-rescuing Adventures. It is dolorous to relate in what variety of Agony hee lay shifting from side to side, and sometimes upon his knees, but nothing would give him ease; and the sight of his Master lying in worse malady was double griefe unto him.

Tormentum miseris socios habuisse doloris.

I know all these Incommodities are annexed unto the exercise of Armes.] Play the Crab with me, and runne a Note backward: and for observation upon the place, I conceive that these Incommodities were so heavy, that they conduced not to the exercise of his Armes, Sides, Back, nor Thighes: all the parts of his body being in a parity of suffering, not by compassion or sympathy, but by the proper anguish of each particular joynt and member. Otherwise some unexercised Limb (like the undipp'd heele of his brother Myrmidon-killer Achylles) had been enough to lose the whole man. For I can compare the thorough and Integral, and almost quotidian poundings and bastings of the Squire and his Don, unto nothing apter and more convenient, then the daily sowsing of that valiant Greeks body in the inchanted Bath for Invulneration. Certainly if Glasse may be so indurated by fire, that it may scorne the force of the hammer, so verily I believe, that our Knights parts would be stock-fisht, and solidated by continuall contusions, threshing and quassations, that in time they would be inferrible, that is, Sword-proofe, Battoone-proofe, Cudgell-proofe, and Surcingle-proofe. Milo, 'tis knowne by using to carry Calves, improved his strength to the burthen of a Bull: So the Don by bearing well and stoutly these Yangue [...]ian trials of skill (Tyrocinia meerly militaria) in time would contemne all the injuries, nay the very packs (if he were put to it) of all the Carriers of all Rodes. Atlas by such stupendious burthen-bearing came to be Porter of Heaven it selfe, and Hercules his supporter, that is, under-porter, and the Don (when his earthly labours are to cease) in reversion to Hercules, Nemine contradicente.

The Wounds, friend Sancho, that are given to one by those Instruments which are in ones hand by chance, doe not disgrace a man.]

[Page] —Mene Iliacis occumbere campis

Non potuisse, tuaque animam hanc effundere dextra.

Had I but falne in Trojan fields,

Cover'd with Myrmidons rich Shields,

Where Hector lyes in his bloud graveling,

Slaine by Achilles lusty Javeli [...].

There was the honour of it, Sancho, to fall by Achilles his Speare, that was Field-Honour. But to have a Pack-staffe salutation, it is not dishonour in the Heralds Court of Knight Errantry. 'Twas no legall Combate (judge all Masters of Defence) where the weapons are not nam'd in the Bill, and produc'd upon the stage. This was meere Chance-medley, and mis-application of tooles. There is no flaw, no shoulder-spraine, hip-shot, nor rib-rost in thy credit; ther's the comfort Brother, we are reputation-sound. A hundred of these (which however Heaven avert) make but misdemeanors in Knight-Errantry, and can never amount to an Attaindor.

There is no paine nor griefe which Death will not consume.] Death (Brother Sancho, now we goe forward againe) said the Don, puts a period to all Travailes, all Adventures, and therefore necessarily to Knight-Errantry, it selfe, and dissolves the Order, then which it were better that the Machine Catholike should fall: For thereby so many plunder'd Ladies, abused Virgins, oppressed Matrons would be left unrevenged. No, no, friend, let us to our Brutes againe: And for a concluding story about Death take this; An old lazie fellow having over-burthened himselfe with stolne Furz-bushes, groaned more under the weight than stealth, and even spent and tired, cryed out, Come death, come death and welcome: which spoke▪ comes in a gashfull, horrid, meagre, terrible, ugly shape, Phoberoon Phoberotaton: That is Death, Sancho, a very ill-lookt Fellow, worse than the Yangu [...]sians: and this Raw-bones demands of the poore old fellow, what he call'd him for. The man looking up amazed, Nothing Sir (said he) but onely that you would be pleased to help me up with my burthen. So I say, Sancho, and doe thou as I say: Let Death alone yet, and saddle me for the Asse; that is, take me, and lay me upon thy Asse, better be a burthen then lie here for old Phoberon.

I doe not hold this kinde of riding dishonourable.] Sancho you may perchance thinke it improper to behold me upon thy Asse hanging Wallet-wayes; but if thou didst consider, that I intend after the next glorious defeat, to be for Madrid, and there to accumulate the Order of the Golden Fleece; thou wouldst not much strange that I doe before-hand conforme my selfe to the Ceremony, which is the ancient'st Order in the world, and indeed was first belonging to the Ship-Knight-Errants, the Argonauts. And as for the dishonour of riding, or rather (as present necessity commands) bethwarting, or over-laying the Asse, know—

Nay look, O look throughout the world so wide,

And each one rides the Asse, or th [...] Ass doth ride.

But Sancho you may reply, that is uncomely: It is so, if there were no [Page] more in i [...]; but I have been tax'd for want of Devotions by Vivaldo, therefore now I will to them, and though it be Kim Kam; yet it is more then hath been related of any Knight-Errant, and I will for future luck-sake crosse all my Adventures in this posture, as I lye even crosse the Asse, that no Inchanters, Giants, Carriers, or Windmils, may any more prevaile upon us, and be assured, that though I doe not ad Sydera tollere vultus, yet my paines and moanes reach thither, and I look downwards in defiance of all hellish Confederacies, from whence they come: Goe on therefore with alacrity, (good [...]Brother Sancho) for (if thou couldst Prognosticate so well as I, who through all accidents look to the end of my Intentions, and shape them good or bad for that designe) thou canst not but perceive thy self already in the very way to promotion, being chang'd from a rider of a poor Asse, to be the honourable Conductor of Asse, Horse, and Man, to the greatest Castle now in sight.

So let them goe, all in an happy houre,

Well met Fooles, Iade, and Ass, One, Two, Three, Foure.

CHAP. II.

Our Don is Inn'd againe, O cry yee mercy,

It is a castle with him (as I heare say)

Three Ladies at a time (all well appointed,)

Wait on our Knight, who is with Grease anointed.

To bed he's carryed, and without his supper,

Suppled with Kitching-stuffe from head to crupper.

'Twas ease and sleep he wanted, take enough,

Belly and back must not have Kitchin-stuffe

Both at a time; if that his bones were quiet,

His Belly was nor did cry out for Dyet.

But O the Body that mine Hostesse greas'd,

Three Women view'd the corps, and not one pleas'd.

Great Bumps and Hillocks in his Flesh arise,

Like Hills throwne up by Wants, which want their eyes.

Such fruit the Fine-tree beares, but no tall Pine

Appear'd, or a Top-gallant Masculine,

Which made my Hostesse, and her pretty daughter

Take little pleasure in him, but of laughter.

The Asturian wh [...]re, much like an Africk Monster,

Came to his bed by chance, but he cann't once-stirre

Ought but his tongue, which brought our Warriour

Againe into the clutch of Carrier.

Base and unmanly fellow so to do't,

To tread a right bred Horseman under foot,

Against all law of Armes, whilst Sancho Panck'

Doth play the Batt'le on Moll-Tornes Flanck.

[Page]

TEXT.

SAncho said it was nothing but a fall from a rock.] Our fleec'd Knight, or Knight fleece, not of the Fleece, (unlesse when he was laid in the Flocks) by Sanchos nimble wit passes for Rupecadente, the Knight of the Rock, not that he fell upon, but from; the Knight of the precipice more properly, or the Knight of the Downfall, or the Knight of Ruine; any of those Attributes or Titles were sutable to the Don and his Squire, the Squire of the Quarrie, or the Squire of shrubs, or Squire of brushes, as you shall see every where about stony, rocky, and craggy grounds.

Made a very bad led for the Don in an old wide chamber.] The uneasines of his bed was nothing to a Heros, that had made the ground his Pavillion. The Emperors of Asia ly on quilts upon the ground, our Don lies upon the ground abed, Feathers effeminate, and soft Flocks suffocate; bedcoards and boards are the best flesh-firmers, Consolidating and Contabulating his Body of Errantry into a gumme and moving Mummia, which was first made of the Mauritanian Knight-Errants, and thence deriv'd to the Spaniards.

The Hostesse and her daughter anointed him all over, &c.] The Asturian held the Candle.—

A fit servant to hold it to the Devill. By the benefit of this light they saw ‘Monstrum, horrendum, ingens, cuique est Vn'auris Adempta.’

These Maukins were not so modest as the good Lady Prioresse, when the search was made amongst her Nunns for one, who had under that disguise made the handsomest amongst them, horribly forswear her selfe. And at the last, comming to the person indeed, who was the wicked cause of the breach of her vow, when I say they came to close, and hot-hunt, even to Astianax to the privy search, notwithstanding that his ti'd up Astianax was so fierce (like a muzz'led dog) at the sight of the beauties, and fellow searchers, that he struck Madam Prioresses spectacles off her nose; yet I say, the grave Matron and her faire assistants did not, like these impudent heildings, stare upon the violation of the Conventicle, but with great care, laid their hands to their eyes, and through the crevises only of their fingers, saw (to their great griefe, how rash and inconsiderate such vowes are upon better meditation and second thoughts. But here was no such incouragements, yet they did Hog-grease his body, and smil'd and twitter'd at the bumps in his flesh, which was like a bruised Pig, (but not so white) splotch'd all over, or like a mouldy Cheese, where three parts are blew and vinnow'd, or like a musty pye. The Hils and Dales in his body wasted her spike-nard extreamly: Indeed, he was more fit to have been delivered over to a pla [...]terer, who with a shovell or two of mortar and a trowell, would have daub'd up the gaps and Cosmas of his dilapidated Carkasse; that done, to a Carpenter to have new planckt him, his muscles were so extended and contunded, that he was not Corpus mobile; after that, to the joyner with him, to shave and smooth the knobs made by the Yanguesian Rockers; and after that, a Mason and other Tradesmen, for he reparation of the Oeconomie of his whole body, which was all out of order, both Timber and Stone-work.

[Page] It may very well be said my Hostesse daughter, for I have dream'd that I sell from a Tower, and could never come to the ground.] A Tower with Pinacles I believe, and there shee held, for shee fell upward. This slut recites the dreame false, and in her owne person, when it was her Amorosos, the Curate of the Parish, who being often in hopes (and sometimes gratified) with a nights lodging, dream'd that he fell into a Well, where he went down, and he went down, and down, and still downe, but he could never come to the bottom; which afright awakened him, and upon the next motion, he moraliz'd his Fable of the Well, and found himselfe in puteo Sans Fund. Her Dreame as it is in the Arabian Copy, was of catching at the Pinnacle, Pinnacle after Pinnacle, as people that are drowning, doe any thing they can lay hold of.

Know then sister, that a Knight-Errant is &c.] M [...]ntornes is the Monster of this Castle, which I marvell the Don did not (though naked) assault, as Hercules did any living thing, when he run mad in his shirt dipt in the blood of Nessus. She was a more rare sight, then we exhibit at Bartholmew Faire (take in to help it the reaking, sweaty Rouncifolds of Py-Corner too) yet this Beast Sancho cals sister, (perchance both of a litter) shee was a sow of the largest breed, if you look upon her paps, and if Circe had lived in her time, she would have us'd no other Incantation for the Metamorphosis of men into swine, then the stroakings of her dugs, which would yield (after she had taken the rennet of a brimming) as much as a Dutch Cow. Upward she was Elephant in head and ears, but not so docile, not so wise as that Creature, nor so serviceable; for then Don Quixot would have absolutely renouncd Dulcinea, and tooke no other Lady then this, who could carry Castles upon her back, as fast as he could take them. Her face was flat, and very much like an Owles, if not more Oulebie, and her Nose adunck like an overgrown Eagles beake, her voice, and that melodious birds, much alike. Her Belly of a capacity for a Cellar, two Stands of Ale might find room therein, and a century of spickets; yet this younger sister to her at Heidelberg, is enamor'd with the name of Knight-Errant, and desires to know more of his nature, which Sancho describes so villanously, (as if he suspected the Dons inclinations) and intended (if their bellies did not deny the Banes) to joyne issues with her himselfe: yet take the Description, 'twill serve for Future times as well as these.

A Knight-Errant, is (as you see) a Creature bruised, basted, swadled, greased, bed-rid and fit to be sent to Madrid, to the house of Bethelem.

Yet whom, thou seest thus vile to night,

To morrow is a Prince, or some such wight.

Sitting up in his bed as well as he could, he took his Hostesse by the band, and said.] The Hostesse having suppled his joints, that he is able to sit up, Gratefull and Gracefull man (as she made him) the Lard of Mancha, or the Liquor'd Knight greases his fat sowe, that is, gives her the oyle of Mancha; Courtly stuff for hers of the dripping pan. And ‘Inde toro loquitur gravis ursus ab alto.’

Most gracious Lady, so y' have the Laird

Of Mancha, for no cost of oyles you have spar'd;

[Page] Before I was illustrious, but your kinde

And gentle hands have made me so behind.

Lend me your daughters hand, 'Ide handle her.

Ah girle, art thou a match fit for a Chandler!

If my hard hearted Queen should vamp to Charon,

A Boat for her, a Chariot for thee, Faire-one.

Now by m'e anointed Flesh and Bodies glew,

(Such Aromatick aires there are but few;)

I'le stick my Dear to thee, and cling withall,

As fast as e'r Tantoblin to a wall.

This said with emphasis, as much as his collected Spirits would give leave, with patheticall lookes now upon the mother, then the daughter, then Maritornes. Our butter'd Westphalia gave Sancho order to informe them further of his Worth, Country and undertakings, and looking for no applause to his Oration, he slid into his bed like a hogshead downe a soap'd ladder. His bed was full of holes, so that the Flocks broke through the breaches, and stuck all about his fulsome and unguentous Body in such numbers, that he suspected himselfe to be infected with the swine Pox. That thought, and the fear of a Rat-encounter kept him waking; For he was baited with stronger allurements then tosted Cheese, or rusty Bacon.

The Carrier and Mary Tornes had agreed to passe the night together; a good wench, if she promis'd, shee kept her word.] This Asturian golph was better at keeping her word then her honesty, and of all words, she never made good her nay, if she could remember that ever she gave a denyall. Shee was true Touch, a word and a blow, say and hold, touch and take, happ, be lucky, strike me handsell, kissing and clipping, laugh and lye downe, and hey then up goe we. A Lady that very well deserv'd to be brought to, and attended on dayly by two able and lusty Furcifers or Squires of the Body, at that famous Castle call'd Bridawelia, where amongst Justice Quamdiu's Seraglio, she should worke at the merry hemp post, a [...]d twice a day the foresaid Squires of the Body should Flebotomize her salt Corium, till all the wanton blood flowed out at the lacings of her flesh coloured Wast-coat.

Don Quixot lay with both his eyes open like a Hare.] A thousand feares, fancies, Chimaeras keep our Don not only like a Hare in his eyes, but his braines also; which being as vertiginous as a whirle-poole, presented ten thousand whirlygigs, Windmils, and Turne-pikes to his errantick soule; so that by the very strength of Imagination and exalted fancy, he would make sallies in the bed, and sometimes out, and routed all the Flocks out of the dilacerated Tick, which hung about his glu'd Body, like Bees at a swarming, or flies got to their winter quarter, thousands in a place; he was all over like a hillocke of black-berries, or small Toadstools, here and there they were thinner about his legs and armes, like Sheep-dung in a With, if a man may be compar'd to a tree revers'd or unrevers'd. Quixot is a Mulberry Tree; look upon him now, and you will take him for no Knight-Errant, but an arrant Shepheard with all his Flocks about him.

While he was thus troubled, the Asturian wench entred the Chamber in her smock, and the Don caught and grob'd her smock, &c.]

[Page] Fumidoque supervenit Uglee,

Vgly Torneadum fuscissima.

Whilst the Don with his Flocx-crump-shoulder was acting Richard the third, in comes this, not Ghost of Iane Shoar, but of the very Common shoar, the Quintessence of Tantoblins Field, and is the nasty prey of his high employed thoughts, raised for the embraces of the Lady Quintanonia, and supplied by the Lady Pentassle, or the fulsome Lady Boggardina: whom, as soon as he had incircled in his Arme-twigs, he might have roar'd out upon, as loud as the gentileman of the Ins of Court, who comming out of the country on a night, when the boggards were to be cleansed, and having no notice that the place was unplankt and laid open, being called thither by an expellas, extrudas, exenteres, ne admittas, a writ in that case very necessary, fell into Cocytus amongst the pickle, he came to augment, where floundred extreamly and uncouthly accoutred, yet he resolv'd to call for no helpe till the like mischance ensnar'd some body into that inchanted Castle, which was the first that ever was made under ground. At last a stranger (who with good Ale, had mellowed and lenified his intestines) came wadling with a load of Sacrifice to Stercutius, and ready to present to Cloacina, fell into the Armes of his Senior Yeoman Feuterer, who overjoi'd more in his companion then the place of meeting, swore, and art thou come? Welcome to the Wedding Dios Diablos! the place, the fall, the squash, the hugge, the Salutation, and intollerable Incense, did so confound our Votary, that he could not containe, but utter'd Grobian returnes for the kinde entertainments of his friend Marius, in the Lake of Minturdum: Who, after his belly full of laughter, cri'd out for help, which suddenly came, and in an instant they were dighted, and came cleanly off, though they went fowly on. These were adventures of A-jax, which none but these two Knight-Errants (for they miss'd their way) ever attempted, except our Father Ben and his Argonauts, when they vent'red in an open an untilted whirrey, through the Common shores of a spring-tide; but how they escap'd the dangerous gulph of Mala Speranza del Arse-holo, you may read at full, in that most celebrated Poem which is stil'd A-jakes. But our Don could not distinguish a Tantoblin from a Pancake; but extracts and sublimates out of his Balneo Mariae de Tornes, (whose exhalations were no better then those of a dunghill) the fumes and evaporations of a Civet Cat: For exsensed (as he us'd to be) and only a man of Phantasie, he conceives on the one side of the Asturian, he touches balm and dissolv'd gumms, when his fingers were in a tarre pot, and the smell more odious than that of soap-boylers; and on the other side, for the amorous foole was resolv'd to survay his whole Quintanonia, he imagines he feels Ginger, Nutmegs, and the cordiall borders of Mace, and such orientall spicery, when he was knuckle deep in the bogs and quagmeirs of Old-Lingia, and the bristles of a wild Boare or Porcupine, were more soft and pleasurable then her filthy Furrz bush.

I could wish to finde my selfe in Termes, most high and beautifull Lady.] Which speech because it is but short, I shall give you in Meeter.

Lady, whose bodies bright (for ought I know)

As farre as touch can judge, I deem it so;

[Page] How shall I recompence these high shewn-favours?

How ever re-incense you for these savours?

I doe small out what your good Ladiship

Would have, by th' applying of your lip

To mine, that as our sugar'd lips doe touch,

So other parts (as well) may doe as much.

But our Yanguesian Varlets, Lady trust me,

The whorson Rascals have unfram'd and burst me;

No limb is sound, no joynt, the smallest rustle

Against my body, vexes every muscle.

Your pardon therefore beautie, most desiring,

That I reply not to your dock requiring;

Besides, and 'twas well thought on by the mackins,

I have a Lady too, who longs for smacking.

To you, who only can her parallel,

For softnesse, plumpnesse, roundnesse, and for smell,

I may impart her name (there he kiss'd her,)

And there he whisper'd, call her (Madam) sister,

Sister Dulcinea; wer e't not that, no doubt,

And all my Aches, we would have a bout.

The Carrier discharg'd so terrible a blow upon the Knights jawes.] Jealousie hath a quick eare, and the Don (though he whispered his soule intents) was over-heard by the Carrier, and over-believ'd too, for he verily did conceive that Maritornes had made a pack of the Don, and taken him up Incontinent: wherefore like an errant Stone-horse, (deluded and detain'd from a leap) he throwes about, kicks his consort, her Knight Stallion, and leaps upon the Don, and tramples upon his Valiant Body, and kneaded the Mill-ground Knight, as if he meant to make dough of him. His bed (but that it fell with the weight) had been the softer for it; the Flocks were never so well turn'd since it was an Inne: the Don was blooded in the mouth as he had been prickt for the staggers, and the Flocks clung to his chops so artificially purp'led, as they had been Mulberries indeed.

The wench, seeing her master, ran into Sancho Pancha's bed, who stept all thus while soundly.] If one won't another will, Quiddere blunt qu [...]th the old Woman to the young man, who complain'd that his wife refus'd benevolence; which is the corruption of caeteri volunt. Maritornes expects retaliation from Sancho whom she greas'd with her owne hands, and now would be repai'd with oleum Anthropinum Hypogastrio applicatum, or at leastwise if his lamp were dry, she desired shelter under his Abdominous pent-house, till her Masters Inquisition were eluded. But old drowsie pate slept very soundly, except that now and then he groan'd extreamly, being hag-ridden by the Asturians incumbency, who having gather'd her selfe in a circle about his umbilicall hillock, she had imagin'd by her agglutination and naturall Incantation, to have raised the spirit of the adjacent coppice. But her Master not finding her with his Lamp and by the fire that sparkled from his eyes, endeavoured to reach her by the eare, calling her by her propet, as well as common name, Whore where? Where whore? where art thou?

By this Sancho awaked, and feeling that bulk, gave Maritornes many blowes, which shee exchang'd so trimly.] The noyse awaked Sancho, now eas'd of [Page] his Ephial [...]es, though in a swea [...] an houre after. But his difficulty of breathing was supplyed by the motion of his Armes, for he intreated his unknown, unseen, but not unfelt bed-fellow, so roughly, and so rudely, that she could no longer brook these unmanly returnes for her warme and gentle Bumme, and Belly-pats, and defrauded of her hopes, and exasperated by contrary blowes with Feminine fury, shee multiplyed her clod-fists so frequently about the muzard of him, and thump'd his hulks hide so vigorously, that she made him bownd from the bed, which prov'd unto her great disadvantage; for as soon as Sancho got up, down went Maritornes, and being cast the wrong way to her desire, Sancho beat all manner of Marches for a quarter of an houre upon her drumme-head so loudly, significantly and perfectly, that it was rare encouraging Musick to the three Matachin Combatants, the Carrier, the Don, and mine Host, who continued that tripartite fray somewhat the longer, excited and stirr'd up by the Marshall sounds and loud claps of her taile, passive and active.

The Carrier perceiving by the light of the Candle, which the Inne keeper brought, the lamentable estate of his Mistresse.] Had not the ray of the Candle betrai'd to the Carrier, whose drumme beat all this while, poor Maritornes had been flatted in the hanches, (as if she had been beetle-beaten to be laid in a pasty.) Sancho had almost levell'd her extuberancies, when the Carrier came to her rescue, and gave Sancho such a sound and expressive souce on the eare, that it admonish'd and chastis'd at once his sawcinesse, for daring to come so neer his Mistresses Sowce- [...]ub. The Asturian was a stout brand-strops, and though Sancho mauld her Cascoines, till her feathers were about to fly, yet shee never cryed out for (though the Carrier prov'd her Man-Midwife) help at her delivery. The Scene of this various Tragedy cals to minde the song of Iohn Dory, personated and well performed by a Company of lusty shoulder-thumpers, who discharg'd the mutuall thwacks so stoutly, that they make a noise, as if they were beating of hemp. The miscarriages of this Love-Scene, turn'd into a sad and lamentable Catastrophe, cals to memory the story of an Outlandish Peregrine, or Traveller, who having seen most parts of this Nation, came at last to that famous University of Oxford, where being infinitely satisfied with the beauty of the place, the magnificence of the Colledges, the discipline, habit, and order of the Students, and above all the famous structure that was then almost finished of Sr Thomas Bodleyes Library (not inferiour to the Vatican) and since inlarg'd from a T which was its figure, to the from of an H. he did confesse abundance of contentment, and resided long in the place, which though he liked very well, yet there was something wanting to him, for the pleasing of Scaliger his sixth sense, as he cals it. And comming from, and having been born in hotter climates, he would use to say, that those Countries were better furnished with she-Nurseries and Seminaries of no Religion, and vertue, then this colder Island: The Popes Seraglios were very profitable and necessary Refrigeratories for the constitutions of the men upon the place. But one day passing through the street, with his Interpreter, of whom he enquired the name of every place; at his return to his lodging, entred into a Table-book, what instructions were worthy the notice. Amongst the rest of the lanes, he remembred, one was called Seven deadly sins-lane: Which place he marked and diligently [Page] observ'd, that he might find the way thither, (when occasion served) without his guide, which not long after was put in practise, and one evening he repaired thither, and as well as he could in his halfe English, he required in this Deadly-sinnes-Lane, whereabout was te House of Lust, pray tell me te House of Lust; scarce understood by the Inhabitants; at last he knocks at a door, at which a sharpe nos'd eager Woman came, unto whom he said, Madame, is dis te House of Lust; of Lust, you rogue, said the Woman? having in her hand a broom-staffe. (wherewith her Husband and shee had been deciding the controversie for the Breeches,) and laid it on with that force, that shee gave him a broken pate to his broken English; whereat the stranger stood plaguily corrected, and crying her Mercy, that had none of him, said, I be mistake Madame, dis be not te house of Lust, but te House of Wroth. Now apply all; so it fell out out here, Maritornes thought to have made a vaulting-School of this Chamber, and to her abominable griefe it proved a Fencing School, where a Prize was played, and shee a great part of it, at never a weapon that shee liked.

But the Officer seeing that he, whom he held fast by the Beard stirr'd neither hand nor foot.] Never had any Knight-Errant such unfortunate Inaugurations at setting forth into the Field of Honour: See, see, how he lyes, as if he had finished all his labours in the Repository of Gallantry, flat on his Back in his Helmet; just like the Knights Templars in their Armes, untill this intruding Officer disturb'd him, composed in his Coemit [...]rium, which was an unpardonable affront to a Knight-Errant Dormant, to have the handle of his Face Couchant, so uncivilly treated. But Feare and former paine, keeps the Don politiquely Insensible, and stiffe, so that his counterfeit death saved him a reall killing: For the Officer imagining him so indeed, cried out Murther, which dismiss'd the three other assaylants to their severall Quarters, Maritornes worst contented then any, though her haunches were never soundlier clapt in a night before, which shall serve for the plaudit to this Chapter, being one of the merriest in all the Book; and so exeunt.

[Page]

CHAP. III.

Mischiefe and Love doe mix, the Ladies daughter

Is one while to be dubb'd, and then Man-slaughter.

Murder, and tickle me; One Face which keeps

Two Cheeks, one [...]smiling ever, 'tother weepes.

A Tragick-Comedie of errors, where

A kisse o'th' lips procures a cuff o'th' eare.

Tantalean Torture, and Sisyphian

Apples and stones doe play: th' oyle and panne

Now hugg'd and hagg'd by an Asturian Whore,

Then straight way batter'd by an Inchanted Moor;

(Or else her Sire the Devill.) Sancho come,

It is high time to make our Balsamum;

Goe, get me these Ingredients, such as Aeson

Renew'd from Winter, unto vernall season;

Such as the bearded sonne of the

Aes [...]ulapius Apollinie imberb [...]s barbatus fillus.

smooth-chinn'd

Father Apollo us'd and medicin'd:

One who had broke his neck in twaine with hunting,

('Tis not so bad with us yet, though we're grunting:)

And made him new againe, another man,

So like as Lamp to Lamp, or pan to pan;

Only a name he gave him (as 'twas decent,)

As I my selfe have, at this very present.

This Balsamum eclep'd Fierebras,

All Aesculapian tricks doth much surpasse;

Nor Galen, nor Hippocrates did know it,

Nor John Pontaeus, he full farre would blow [...]

Even into England, where brave Palmerin,

Had he [...] happy, or so skill'd had bin,

T'have known this precious dose, nor be nor's horse,

For all incounters, had been e'er the worse.

TEXT.

FRiend Sancho, art thou asleepe sleepest thou friend Sancho?] Such kind of Tones as these the Vmbrae use, when they call upon Charon for a Boat. But Hector (nor any of his name-sakes since) in such a pitifull case, so codled ever came to the Stygian Shoare, as the Don and Sancho, if before the application of the Balsamum Fierebras, they should be sent to Pluto for a token: For their bodies were bow'd and so pliant, that you might turne them upon your finger like a piece of Barbary gold. By the dolours and fractures of their bodies, you may think them below the condition of men, but by their want of meat and no sleep, not inferiour to the state of the Gods: ‘—Vox homines sonat.’ Such a shrill Note gave Abel Drugger, when after a nights expectation in [Page] the Privy-house (his gagge of Ginger-bread dissolv'd) he was to crave a blessing of his Mother the Queen of Fairies, and her Ti-ti-ties. But our Don and his man were a while among the Furies, though some part of the night he was (but not dancing) with a Pharie, but in the Rings.

A hand joyn'd to some Arme of a Gyant, gave him such a blow on the jawes.]

This Gyant Carrier would have been more mercifull to his hand, if he had knowne, against the jaw-bones of what creature he so often ding'd his fist, and Maritornes likewise would not have endur'd the adventure, if she could have suspected that the issue of her nights dalliance might have proved a Mule, as by the fire-side it would have been very visible, however the partus sequitur ventrem, might a little assimilize it in the Crupper, to the Flanders breed.

Be not grieved Friend Sancho, I will now compound the Balsamum Fierebras, which will cure us in the twinckling of an eye, &c.]

Hei tibi quod nullis, Amor est Medicabilis herbis.

Though in those innocent times, Philtrums, Love potions, Nutmegs, suppled (sub Hirco Alarum;) nor the blood from two opened Orifices of Corydon and Phillida intermixed, nor twists of haire, nor legs, nor any other Fascinations were knowne; yet something of high concernment, and great prefit was discovered, and (as an Antienter Author hath it of that Nation, then Cyd Hameti Benengeli) by Priapus himselfe, who was the greatest Herbalist in the World, and the Tutelary genius of all Gardens, and handsome Plantations: This Phutologicall Deitie (I say, or rather the old Arabian) being enamor'd of a Smiths wife (that was usuall amongst those powers) who came constantly to his Quarters, to gather Sallads, who looking many times on, and with good liking upon the portraicture of this high-mounted Genius) he understood her meaning (as they say) by her gaping and discovered (by way of recompence for her favours) the Secreta and Arcana Herbarum, which the fond foole revealed to her husband, and he upon his death-bed to his brother, which was the first Catholike Kings Farrier; And it is credibly reported by my Arabian, that he chose him a Venus out of the sisterhood of the Mancha, from whom this Opobalsamum as well as the Don himselfe was traducted, as by his looks is most evident, that he was originally descended, not of the Fabri, (or Fabritii) Lignarii, but Ferrarii; for he did often account himselfe of the house of Ferrara, and might very well. Thus by many meane conveyances this rare Secret was at last lodg'd in the Family of Quesadas, Quixadas, or Quixots, as is aforesaid, that's all one: And this derivation I have been somewhat more curious in, because it might be wondred how the Don should come to the knowledge of such a Rarity, and this same search hath not cost me hot water (as they say) but what is more dangerous, it is fetch'd out of the Fire, and if you please to cast your eye Anagrammatically upon the name of the Balsamum, you will find ‘Conveniunt Rebus Nomina saep [...]uis.’ And Fier-ibras, though the latter Termination may make it suppos'd otherwise, yet such ends signifie nothing, but the first is materiall, and shews assuredly that it came from the Fire, or rather men of Fire, who were the Vulcans of the Times.

Sir, said Sancho, is not this the inchanted Moore?] Sancho is very much afraid [Page] of this vision, the fellow walk'd like old Ieronymo, a distracted Spaniard; And with his Lamp in his hand, as if he were speaking his words; ‘Who cals Ieronymo from his naked Bed?’

Negromancers will not suffer themselves to be seen.] Right Don. Negromancy is Deceptio visus: Doe you thinke that Faustus or Vandermast were discovered when they took the Bowle out of the Emperors hand, as he was about to lift it to his head: A voice indeed was heard, Multa cadunt inter calicem supremaque labra. Nor was Bacon (Roger Bacon I meane, when the Brazen Head thrice spoke) ever seen, or in that study, which untill this day is call'd by his name. But these were great and deep Scholars, and you know the deepest waters make the least noise; your Rattle Heads keep a noise, when your full Hogs-head will not sound. You have heard of Gyges ring, you know Gyges was never seen all that while; and you have heard of Gyges his Lady, nor was shee seen ever at the running of the ring, except when her over uxorious Husband shew'd her naked to his prime Favorite, who asham'd of the spectacle, never left till he got opportunity to cover her nakednesse.

Is it the custome of this Country you bottle-Head, to use Knight-Errants after this manner.] The DON had a plaguy wit, and guess'd by his head, what employment the fellow was of. Now, whether he meant of those sort of Bottles, where Duke D' Alvas Face is so eminently fixt, is a question? but I believe not, for it prov'd a head, as it had been of Bottle-Ale, for it gave a Bounce (a cruell one, more then of a Cocke to the Don) and runne out.

Without doubt, this was the Inchanted Moor quoth Sancho.] He was a Black is most certaine, and the Don a blew, if not both: But this was the most charitable wound that the Don hath receiv'd in all his Adventures; For 'tis true the Lamp gave a shrewd cut, but it broke, and the oyl ran presently forth, and was the cure in an instant.

Vulnus opemque tulit.

Procure me some Oyle, Wine, Salt, and Vinegar.] Traine Oyle, dead Wine, Base-salt, and the Lees of Lombards made up this decoction. I doe wonder, that in all his sodaine accidents, the wholsome cure of Pisse and brown Paper was never discovered to him, nor his Squire Sancho; which if he had known, it had been of great consequence to him, and because it was frequent with him to Urine (being much given to Horse-radish, Garlicke and Feare) which are all Diureticall and clensing, and he himselfe for the most part musing; (that is to say in a browne study) He was seldome without the main matters, and as for the wounds, not a day scarce or an houre without them. But this is only for Knight-Errants at hand, but the Balsamum is for the inward Contusions, as you shall heare anon.

He put this precious liquor into a tinne Oyle-pot, and said over it eighty Paternosters, Aves and Creeds.] The Tinne Oyle-pot did very well concurre to the cure, for his pate being but lately broke by a Lamp-panne, (which was of the same metall) that being broke, spoil'd, and uncapable, the experiment might be made upon a pot that was coaetaneous, and of the same make with it: So by application of the Balsamum to the very Sofia-tinpot alike effects might follow, as usually doth Unguentum Armarium, and it [Page] might very much conduce to a speedy cure, help'd and assisted as those remote Agents must be, Per genium mundi, & volubilitatem Atomorum & virtutem Sympatheticam. The eighty eight Paternosters, Creeds, and Aves, were only these few Latine lines under-wrote, which were the Charme, and vertuous operators of the grand effects in the Balsamum. I doe not believe, that he would use such holy Formes and Ceremonies, and signum Crucis too, for a Thing made at the best, but for a Creature with a starre in the Forehead.

Neptune Pater Equorum,

Et tu Sol, qui tenes lorum;

Quadrupedum ignivomorum,

Fac ut ego, qui sum Coram,

Vis vibicum & Dolorum,

Futurus Domitor Monstrorum,

Protector hominum, horum, harum, horum,

Vi [...]ûm, Mulierum & Orphanorum,

Per hoc Balsamum, Opobalsamorum.

Invulneratus posthâc transeam,

Prim-as Militum Errantium.

This is to be said or sung, and round about the Ovall, for he had these Incantations in a cycle, (besides that of his head, which was of the greatest Capacity, sphaericall and whirri-call) and about the border of his Annulet, these words wrote in a great Character.

Octogintos octos per haec verba,

Benedicetur quaevis herba.

This indeed mystically pronounced, and look'd 88 times, (which is the Spanish Mode of Incantations,) the simples receive their wondrous virtues, and did operate very much upon the Knight, who was one of the simplest in the World, and therefore the most capable of cure by them.

And having taken the dose, he slept two or three houres.] It was very improper, and unartist-like done in Sancho, to permit him to sleep, and shew'd that though most men would be counted Physitians, he laid sure hold upon the other part of the division. Sancho should have rode him about the grounds, or run him a hand-trot in the hay tallet, which was the usuall custody of those, to whom it was first administred, and then tied him up (well cloath'd) to the Racks, and some three or foure houres after, refreshed his sweated body with a mesh. But had not the Don been of a stronger constitution then that creature that us'd thus to take this Physicke, a Body of Brasse indeed, this Balsamum Fierebras had dissolv'd this magnanimous person at the first experience; what did not this fetch up? something of every thing, and it was strange (but that his heart was great and could not get through the Isophagus) that it came not up with the rest; Much undigested Poor-Iohn and the Goat, came skipping back faster then it went down; the Iron Cheese made a horrid noise, (as if the Mils had been in his guts,) Sancho with the aid of his fingers, could hardly get out the roapy stuffe that stuck in his throat: After this (for the Basons were shifted) came up all manner of colours, an odious and filthy consistence, which were the collections of the many bruises (now matur'd into a putulent matter) got by the Windmils, the Yanguesian pack-staves, and the late [Page] kneading of his Chamber-fellow, the Knight of the Herculean Foot, and Briarean Hands, even Maritornes his Gyant-Carrier; whether he had the Pulvis contusionis amongst the ingredients, I know not, but it wrought as if it were, and the Balsame deserves a new name, more sounding, ample, and full befitting its owne vertue, and the Dons quality, and let it in an happy houre be named, ‘Panc [...]ymagagon Fustifugum.’

Which for the capacities of those not skill'd in the Latine Tongue, and that Iuniores may understand, call it in plaine English thus,

The Medicine Catholick,

Against kick, fall, and stick.

Sancho desired leave to sip up the remainder of the Balsamum.] Sancho perceiving his Master cleans'd and cleare, (for he was as gaunt as a Hawke after casting) desired a Dose for himselfe, which his Master very willingly did condescend unto: And Sancho, like the wench that desired to be us'd well by the Apothecary upon her Recipe, had so much given her for Gods sake by the knavish boy over and above the prescribed quantitie, that shee wish'd upon the returne of it, that the Devill had taken him for his courtesie. So Sancho very liberally drencht him selfe, but as Physick is not alike to all constitutions, as the French Doctor said; if te Body be full of grosse humours, and that it operates excessively, all de better for dat; and if the Physick doe not stirre the Patient, 'tis a good signe that de grosse humours are not in te body, and so all te better for dat too. So our friend Sancho, having a tough and tenacious stomack, and that was not us'd to part with any thing it had once receiv'd (unlesse (dogge fashion) upon condition of Resumption,) labour'd to digest it, and turn it into nutriment, which verily had been effected, had the Dose not been over-proportioned; which put the Squire into such an Agonie and maw-Convulsions, that he thought his soule had been transmigrant and Errant from his Body. At last gathering all his expulsive faculties together, and setting his hands to his sides, at the first reach he threw out his troublesome guest, and dislodg'd the Balsamum, which being embitter'd by his long stay, made the Squire look very sowerly, and so distorted his face by manifold writhings, that he looked handsomer (if his countenance could have kept the posture) then ever he did in his life. But he had more motions then one, his backward memento's came so fast, that he could not mind what his mouth utter'd: No Bed-panne was sufficient, nor the Tub for that purpose. He was compelled to advance his Plukes to the Chimney, which he most violently assaulted and batter'd in such furious sort, that much of the shot recoil'd upon his Canon muzzle, which the Asturian with a maukin cleans'd, (as oft as the enormities happ'ned) very glad that shee had this revenge for the Battell plaid upon her Maine-Pillian; shee ever and anon held his head too, which shee bound about with a list taken from her leg. The halfe Tub began to fill, for up came all his Wallet-thefts, his stomack was like a Foxes kennell, or a Polecats hole, whence innumerable parts of the creature came fluttering out, as if they had been upon wing againe. It would have puzz'led a Poulterer to have named the severall ransacks of that Oleo. Such a hotch-potch was never seen, insomuch, that the poor Asturian even stifled with the fumes and Nauseae of his filthy Caldron, could not hold his head nor her own [Page] stomack any longer; but kept consort with him, & plaid her part so wel, that she run through all the keyes from A-la-mi-re to double Gammut, nor was she only vocal, but her Base Violl went as fast as his, with great danger of breaking her twatling-strings. They made a foule house [...]etwixt them, and Sancho was so [...]tupified with her continuall Cataracts, that he could not heare his owne tale, for the bellowing of Maritornes, who reach'd as if she would have fetch'd up her Lady-tripe.

He called the Inne-keeper unto him, and said with a grave and staid voice:]

High Constable of this large Castle, know,

I cannot pay you, what I present owe

For all the favours shewne, for the sweet oyles,

Yet fragrant on my wounds got in late broyles.

But chiefely for the Queens affections,

And for your Daughters gentle Frictions,

Never was Knight so handled: Wherefore say,

(For new Adventures call your guest away)

Is there a Miscreant who hath dar'd to blast

Your Queen or Daughter, as they were unchast;

Or that your selfe are of no noble spirit,

(Courteous above almost Knight-Errants merit)

Shew me the Varlet that I may confound him,

Before I goe to fight the world so round in.

All that I desire is, saith the Inne-keeper, that you defray your charges.] The Invincible ignorance of mine Host was very smartly reprehended and punisht in the Knights generous and free Goe-by: Teaching the Foole hereafter more wit, who when he demands money of a Knight-Errant, to take hold of his Bridle, or else by the Law of Effugium, or Mittit habenas, he may make his escape good; and there are Presidents enough for it.

The Inne-keeper came to Sancho, and ask'd his money of him.] Sancho overheard his Masters Reasons for Non-payment, and from a strong Argument (drawn à paritate rei, though not subjecto) laboured to have convinc'd the [...]ncredulous Host, who had neither Faith for the Reckoning upon their words, nor to the valiant Deeds they were to doe. But it was Sancho's misfortune to have a more Indocile Creature under him, and lesse manageable than the Dons, so that he was left (as alwayes the Asse is) for the reckoning: He urged often, like Master, like man; and love me, and love my Dog: Beside other more true and significant Proverbs; as, Sue a Begger and get a Louse, Where there is nothing to be had, the Common-wealth must lose her due, The Devill take the hindmost. But mine Host on the other side had his Proverbs too, Touch Pot, touch penny, Finger in Dish, finger in Pouch. Sancho could not deny that the Pot had touch'd his Master (the Oyle-pot he meant) and he had toucht the Ale-pot. But he was impatient, and telling them, they could not without manifest danger and violation of the Lawes of Errantry stop him, he attempted to escape.

The Clothiers of Segovia pull'd him from his Asse.]

O happy, happy Sancho hadst thou been

If thou wert gone, or ne'r hadst seen this Inne.

[Page] For the Cordovan Point-Makes, Scoffers, and Mockers, by their Profession, and Segovian Clothiers, sellers of Blankets, upon one of their strongest commodities lay dis-mounted Sancho, now like a great Bell, at which six lusty Ringers are plucking, and after a Celeusma or two, they raise him, and finde him comming, then up they have him, and never give off till they have turn'd it over & over. Sometime they made him stand an end, his head being flat, very much helping to the posture. Thus you see our Squire Errant is made a Squire Volant, and in stead of the Government of an Island is made a petty Prince of the Aire, to whom the Birds flock, as to his Brother Broad-face when he flies abroad in the day time. It was well the Balsamum Fieribras had so throughly purg'd his sinke, otherwise he had left foule signes of his high Indignation in the Blankets. In his Tranation he lookt about, and saw under him (though a farre off) his Lord upon Rosinante, no bigger than a Toad upon a Bucking-stoole; and the Don beheld in amazement the motions of his Squire, now equall with him in all Adventures, this last paralelling his of the Windmill. But the Don shaking his Javelin over the wall, and discovering implacable rage, and threatning, but not attempting to leap the wall, the Inne-keeper gave the signe to the Ringers, and they let the Bell goe very Musically downe, by lessening their stroaks, heaves, and tosses, till they brought Sancho very well breath'd and air'd to the ground.

Sancho requested Maritornes to give him some Wine, which shee did.] Poor Sancho was as dry, as if he had been visiting the torrid Zone, or pass'd the Line; a draught of water he would have, but his Master knowing in his great observation, that water will putrifie and stink under the Line, would not permit him to drinke it, nor yet would Sancho be perswaded to a dram of the Bottle, no Balsamum goes down his throat, which was as open as a Sepulchre. But Maritornes (all after-claps forgot and forgiven) mov'd with a Fellowship of his sufferings, risings and fallings, helpes him at last to a draught of pure Nepenthe, a lusty glasse of Claret wine, wherein the dead flyes look'd like the wholsome Clove, and because he should be sure to have no more risings in the stomack, she powder-sugar'd it with a little burnt Allum, which shee crumbled into it, and stirring often, said, partner in affliction drinke, drinke it up, the deeper the sweeter, parting with Sancho in the very same proverb, as she hop'd to have laine all night with him.

Now Sancho, switch and spurre, and curse the houre

That brought thee to this Castle without Tow'r.

[Page]

CHAP. IV.

Freed of the Castle, he is hurried on,

And findes the Pagan Alifamfaron,

And good Pentapolins o'th' naked Arme,

And both their Armies ready for Alarme;

Then making ready 'mongst the thickest rout,

For the fierce Pagan Prince he seeks about,

Inrag'd and madded; the Mahumetan

Cannot be found: The Battell he began

Amongst the Infantry, ne'r fight was hotter,

For all the Sheep appear'd to him as Trotters,

Which he hew'd downe apace; but the dust smothers

(No quarrels are so fierce, as those of Brothers.)

The Don, both face and eyes, he knew not whither

Rosinante ran, but trod downe Yew and Weather;

The Shepheards at this Woolfe on Horseback wondring,

Caught up their slings, and with good stones they thunder him,

And plyed their worke so nimbly, that his Coasts

As well, as he their Muttons, they rib-roste.

And did so batter too, that a stone hot,

It was apparent, he was gone to th' Pot

Of Balsamum, to raise his wasted spirit,

But with a lucky hand as sling did e'er hit;

The second stone did break the pot of Balsame,

And on the ground (for there I'm sure did fall-some)

Lay that same holy Liquor, and foure grinders

Of his Cheek Teeth: From which God blesse the finders.

TEXT.

DON QUIXOT would have revenged, and Sancho would have avenged the injuries of the Blanket.] Revenge is sweet, and the Don and his Squire never pardoned any, but those they could not beat, which was enough for larger bowels, (and theirs were of the largest too) but not of Mercy, that you should see. This knowne cruelty in them, made them terrible, and fear'd where ever they came, and those who stood out should be paid, (except Inchanted Inne-keepers) was known throughout all rodes: So upon their approach, Castles were surrendred, Ladies submitted, Gyants capitulated, Armies treated, Hostages were sent, (but none ever return'd by the Don,) Kingdomes entred into Leagues and Confederacies with Quixot and his Squire, as secure, as if all the Knight-Errants Seales in the universall World had been to the Articles. The Catalogue of his Associates, Friends, Auxiliaries, with the frames of all demolished places, Pillories, Privy-houses, Whipping-posts, old Barnes, haunted and forsaken Houses, besides Baudy-houses and Pigsties, are all to be seen at the Mancha, every Festivall that is kept to the Don; when as at a Bartholmewtide [Page] the Fights and Travels of this great Knight-Errant are to be seen, and himselfe represented (for these honours came after his death) to the life, by Timotheo Reado of Tiveri-ae, who was the most incomparable mimicke upon the face of the Earth.

The men whilst they tossed me had proper names.] Peter Martinez, a very able man of his hands as was in all Spaine, and Tenerio Heriander, not such another in Madrid, at a living or dead lift, and Iohn Palameque the Deafe, was the Inne-keeper, which defect, whether it were naturall or politicke, is much doubted, but it held him surest and longest at the reckoning, when any thing in the Bill was questioned; he had been in his younger dayes bred in Holland, which is the best place to traine up an Host or Hostesse to Austerity in the reckoning. All To Mall is the word, and irrefragably 'tis stood too. These were the Worthies, which mounted Sancho higher then into his Asse, and whose names could he have [...]wrote no doubt, but he would for the high favours they shew'd him, have put them into a Book, whereas now he is forc'd to give them entertainment in his head, which was a very bad lodging, but yet too good for the guests.

Ever after the defeat of the Biscaine, we had blowes and more blowes, cudgels and more cudgels.] He might have gone a degree farther; for as I take it, the last basting will admit of three, Yanguesian positive, Gyant-Carrier comparative, Oyle-panne superlative; he exceeds plus plurimum, and I too much feare, that there must be a Climax made in the Grammar, for his beatings could not be declin'd by the old rule, but we must necessarily allow of a super-superlative, and a hyper to that if need require. Sancho hath his Tole-Booke too, I mean his memory, and it is the best Register: ‘Multa Tulit fecitque puer, sudavit & alsit.’

That hits him pretty well, but that of Virgils upon Aenaeas more pat; ‘Multum ille & terris jactatus & alto.’

Both which must be rendred into our Mother tongue, because they doe (but too succinctly) expresse most of Sanchos sufferings, but especially the last.

The first verse rendred.

Much did they suffer, but what did they-much,

When they were boyes at Trap, or slatter-pouch;

They'd sweat untill they stank, and then catch cold,

The aches are not off um now they'r old.

The second verse rendred.

He may be which you please, Master or man,

Who in their suff rings, them difference can;

From place to place, like unto Rowling stones,

Gathering no mosse, but bangings to their bones.

And toss'd aloft by the sterne Windmill Quish-ot,

Sancho from Blanket, cause he paid not His-shot.

VVhich belonged to Amadis de Gaul, when he nam'd himselfe Knight of the burning sword.] That Amadis de Gaul had such a sword is probable, for he might have occasion to fetch it from the Cutlers red hot, especially if ever his Squires Horse tired, it being as present a cure as [...] hot spit. But if ever he [Page] had a true one, it must be made and ensampled by that of Chinons of England, or the fool transform'd, for by both those names that Knight was ever remembred. This sword, by some privy to his Testament, was ordered to be buried in a side of the great Hill Pen-men-maur in Cambro-Britannia, where it was to lye nourisht in heat, by the Sulphurous supplement of that Minerall, untill one of the most redoubted and Moderne Knights in Europe should be born out of those parts, unto whom this sword in processe of time was brought; the child scarce able to speak, (like as Hercules grasped the Serpents in the Cradle) grasped as much of it in it pretty fist, smiling, and pleas'd with no rattles, babies, hobby-horses, or any such toyes, but only this burning sword, which as it never burn'd his fingers, so he never dreaded it; and come to age (Captaine Iones was this Valiant Infants name) he gave the sword a name which it will never lose, ‘Killz-adog.’

The Whineard of the house of Shrewsberry is not like it, nor the two handed Fox of Iohn Falstaffe, which hewed in sunder fourteen out of seven principall assaylants, and left eighth and twentie equally divided bodies in the Field, all slain while Shrewsberrie clock could stricke seven; (of the men you must take in.) Upon this new sword of Quixots when he got it, these words were to be seen;

Sum Quixoti, pro vincere inimicos meos.

Which is thus in English;

I am Don Quixots guartha, my spatha,

With Basket hils, and blade of a Lath-a.

When Don Quixot perceiving a thick dust arise in the way.] It presently cals into the Dons mind, that great Gyant Adriasdust, who had choaked many a man, and was only vanquishable by the Knights of the Well, or the Running spring. Wherefore it was time to look to it, for now if ever he was like to come to those deadly words, ‘Dust to Dust;’

As appear'd by the Catastrophe of this battell, wherein, though the Don did slay seven Knights of the Curled Fleece, yet he paid for the honour very dearly, and lay speechlesse, toothlesse, and witlesse, and the pillage of the Field carried off by the enemie supperlesse: Otherwise Sancho Pancha, though the losse of his Wallet very much troubled him, yet with one of these booties, which had been prey and Wallet too, he had rested contented; but now there was no hopes of sleeping this night with a belly full, or in a whole skinne.

Sr (said Sancho) what shall we do? What said the Don, but assist the weaker side.] It was never so, but when this Valiant Knight join'd unto it; but the Knight by the Order, was to be on the oppressed party, whereby he was sure to have the worst on't. I believe Sancho would have been Jack of both sides, for he lov'd a side of Mutton, both leg and the other, as well as he lov'd his wife, which was rib of his rib. Here was a recruit for the Wallet, but where is the Wallet to be recruited.

Sed vos non nobis, vellera Fertis Oves.

He that comes to us is Ali-fam-facon, the other at our backs is Pentapolin.] These two Emperors are the mistaken Shepheards of the Country, who [Page] serv'd Madrid and the Catholike Kitchin with those droves: What a company of Knights, Gyants, Captaines and Officers, doth this phantasticall whimzy-pate gather out of this Innocent Flock; if ever his head (as when did it not?) had gone a Wool-gathering, certainly now he might have had a profitable adventure, especially of intreating the Gyants of the Rodes modestly, he would have been contented with a brace of the infirmest Souldiers, which were the tenderest meat amongst them, and ready to drop into his lap.

This Knight here whom thou seest in the yellow Armour.] All Virgils Bucolicks will not suffice with names, (nay search his Georgicks for help to boot) for the Officers of this Army of Foot: Had it been a Heard of Oxen, it would have afforded greater Gyants and more trusty Knights; For Beeves have been knighted, (I mean out of their loynes have come Knights,) as Sur-loin and Bevis, whether of Southampton or any Towne beside, was of that race. China-beuf [...] a huge Gyant, and with the great Cham of Tartary now at Warre for that vast secret of the World, the Kingdome of China; The Chineses or Chineteers are the most numerous people in the World, where is there a man that hath a stomack, but is for China-beuf? Rúmpô-beuf & Croppó-beuf are his younger brothers, who have stood to the msot stout Gyants in the most sharp encounters that ever were (tooth and naile worke as they say,) and made the Cadmeian race of their enemies weary and give over, and with their belly fuls too; as you shall read at large in the Chronicles of the Buphagi, which are kept part in the great Libraryes at the Bridge Foot, Boares head in Eastcheap, and the Ramme and Goat in Campo Fabrorum, which indeed is the chiefe Randezvouz of the other Army, whose Captaines and Commanders the next note shall unfold unto you.

I heare no Trumpets sound said Sancho, nor nothing but the bleating of Sheep.] Now the other Army is drawn into the Field, which was not of so great Gyants indeed, but they were more numerous, and unanimous: For as in Scotch-land they have a word, especially upon the Rout, One and Aw; so in this vast body, if one run, aw run, if one stamp the foot, aw stamp the foot, if one [...]ab, aw nab, if one ba, aw ba. He that Commanded in chiefe, was not, as the deluded Don imagin'd, not Ali-fam-farom, but Ali-fe-Ramme-Anafaron, who was a surly Sir, an old Souldier, and had kept the field more then any Generall that ever I knew; His sonne and heire Rutter-ramme-faron, was the Leivtenant Generall, Marshall of the Field, grand-Wether, a nimble Officer, who was very rich, though in Field service he was often taken and fleec'd by the Enemy, who are a sort of devilish Gyants, who infest their Quarters constantly and unavoidably about St Iames tide, when by great subtilty, and assisted by Negromancers, and I know not how many unhallowed Monsters, they customarily once a yeare make inrodes upon 'um, rather pilferers then Souldiers, and what Souldiers or Officers they catch, they plunder to the very skinne, and so cashear'd, they send them back to their Quarters, as naked and bare as a shorne Sheep, as we say in our English Proverbe. Brigadeers in this Army of Infantry, which may well be so call'd, for they are the harmlessest Souldiers in the World, content with their Quarters in Field in the Summer, and in Winter, with such voluntary Contributions as the Country can afford: For their Brigadeers and Commanders of the right and left wing of [Page] this Army are very well lik'd of every where; no Lord, Knight, Squire, Gentileman, or Yeoman, but are joy'd to see them at their Houses and Tables. And such is the great love the People beare to them, that they may quarter with them all the yeare long; but they seldome doe lie upon the meaner sort of the People (though they would willingly entertaine them) but at the ablest mens houses, and most wealthy, which is a great ease to the whole Nation where they live; and were it not for that ravenous Gyant, who doth without mercy devour 'um, the cruell Woolfangus, they would scarce have a scout or sentinel out in a year, unlesse it were at St Iames tide (as I told you before,) when those other Gyants, call'd the Tonsorini, Deglubecanii, Excoriarii, and Lani-furciferi infest their whole body; then indeed the whole Army sometimes is one grand Round, one Court of Guard, and a thousand lye perdue; but such is the unresistible subtility and force of these forenam'd miscreant Gyants, (who at first by trechery of their supreme Governour, Pastor infido, were l [...]t in amongst them) that they cannot prevent this universall pillaging, which they endure the more patiently, because the mischiefe is fore-knowne and frequent, and their Brigadeers, whose name at last I have remembred, viz. Costo-magnó-mutton, Racháumutton, and Scapulovin, are now upon a composition of a Tribute of Wool, which they yearly pay, and are by patience and Gods blessing (in a month or so) as well fleec'd (as we say) againe as ever. Rumpaney Kid, a very stout Souldier, is alwaies in the Reer, and was never seen from his station, unlesse remov'd by death, and then alwaies one of the same Family, for their known services, succeeds, and by common consent the place is entail'd upon them. Unto his care all the impediment of this vast Army is committed, and their Wives and off-springs, who are as innocent as their Husbands, and it is counted a kind of blessing & wealth to the places where they march. Thus was this Sheep-Field Marshall'd, which the Don and Sancho saw through the Prospectives of their fingers; but Sancho, a very Woolfangian, was bloody minded, and wished the utter ruine and confusion of these two Warlike bodies. ‘—Animal propter Convivia natum,’ was all the Latine he had, or cared for, and to expresse his Sanguinarious Nature, he whispered the Don in the eare so subtilly and close, (that Cyd Hameti did not hear it) and protested by the Gods of Mancha, that he wisht from his heart, and the bottome of his belly, that every Souldier in both those Armies were dead upon the Turfe.

And so it was indeed.] If ever Knights wits went a wool-gathering, ours did at this instant, where a Flock of Sheep are supposed an Host of men, Ramms taken for Gyants, Ewes for Ladies, Wethers for Eunuchs, black Sheep for Negromancers, Lamkins for Knights Pages, Shepheards with their Crooks in their hands for Inchanters, and Pioners with their pipes for Martiall Flutes, the Wethers bels for Drumms, and their taile clouts, their colours, their tupping and rutting for the maine Battalia, and the Buttons for the slaught' red bodies, which were innumerable.

One of the effects of feare, is to trouble the senses.]

Videri facit quae non sunt Timor.

If this axiom be true, the Don by his owne mouth shall be judg'd, that he is the greatest coward of the two, and that he reprehends Sancho unjustly, [Page] who was not distempered by that womanish passion; for he saw really that the Sheep were Sheep and no Gyants; but the Don taking Geese for Swans (as we say) Sheep for Souldiers, 'tis a hundred to one upon Sanchos side, that his Master was more timerous pro praesente.

For all this, Don would not returne, but cri' don, on Knights, all that March under the valorous Emperor Pentapolin.] The Knight is as mad as his Enemie, when it is vex'd with the ticks, he charges through and through, and routed the whole Body, and made such gaps and gashes in the sides of the assaylants, that one Sheep might have leapt through another, till the main part of the Armie had escap'd through the first Sheep-breach. Never was such a slaughter; here lay legs and armes, there breast and sides, there necks, there heads without hornes, there hornes without heads, there feet, there rumps; Sire, Dam and Barne, Ram, Ewe and Lamb, lay all in one ruine; the Knight himselfe like Iohn-a-Green, discolour'd with the garbage of the Enemie, which he fetch'd out of the very bowels of them, using the Sheep, as the Romans did the Iewes, at the sacking of Ierusalem, ransacking in their Fundaments and upwards, for conceal'd Gold and Jewels; but the Don ripp'd them up, not out of covetousnesse, but meer revenge, and was so bespattered and bespringled with the Intrailes, that a-was more terrible then a Forrester, and did so stinke of offall and slaughter, that the Crowes, Owles, Ravens, and Buzzards flew about him for provisions, as if he had been Quarter-Master-Generall for those birds of prey. His word was Pentapolin of the Naked Arme, and look'd himselfe like a Lyon of East-cheap.

The Shepheards unloose their slings and bepelt him, he crying Ali-fam-fa-ron where art thou.] The Shepheards at last, take heart and stones, and defy this Goliath of the Mancha, who (not afraid of an incounter of that nature) run in upon the great Ali-feramme-Anae-faron, and advancing his sanguine Javelin in the very curled front of him, said, dye Tyrant, dye libidinous Ravisher, dye of the yellowes, as thou livedst (jealous and lecherous) so dye. Never any more hope to tup the daughters of Pentapolin, or see the naked and goodly leg of the faire Lady Ovesia, or the tender quarters of the pretty, young, and chast Agnetis, or Agnesia. So fell this buffle-headed Gyant by the hand of Don Quixot, who skill'd in Astronomie, (as farre as an Almanack could instruct him,) struck the Ramme in the neck and shoulders, and with one blow (the signe being at that time Aries) sever'd his head from his body.

He thought himselfe slaine, and remembring his liquor, he took out the oyle-pot, which a Shepheard with a stone broke.]

Saepe premente Deo fert Deus alter opem.

The Gyant of the Tarre-box makes the wound,

The Knight of the good oyle-pot makes the sound.

But O the fate! Cephalus his dart,

Conse [...]uitur quodcunque petit.

This Shepheard was some Parthians Bastard, he had so unlucky an aime, he would hit you a bird flying, (and unlesse an Owle be no bird) he was his marks-man now. He stops two gaps with one bush (as they say) with one stone doth Triplex malum, makes three gaps, a shrewd one in the oyle-pot, whence the remainder of the Dons mornings draught, and drench [Page] for his rib-sparre, or split (choose you which) runne all out, and a cut on the fingers; but the fowlest gap of all, was the breach in his mouth, which the stone did forcibly enter, in despite of his violent detainer, of an high and mighty Guard of Teeth, and a Jaw-bo [...]e, as strong as that, with which Sampson did wonderfull things; the foure principall Gyants of his mouth fell to the Earth with that blow, his Cheek-teeth, which so confounded our DON, (as if his strength had laine most in his mandibles) that he fell after them upon the Earth himselfe, lamenting the loss of his Face-frontiers, and conceiting with himselfe that if he meet not in some good time with the French or Madrid Operators, who can supply him with a new set, his mouth was upon the West side like to be unpalisado'd for ever.

At the season which Sancho look'd in his mouth, the Balsamum wrought, and the Knight disgorg'd all in Sancho's face.] This was the first meal that Sancho had this day, and the good Knight spar'd it (as we say) out of his owne belly, but Sancho could not keep it, it smel [...] so strong of the Pantry whence it came, and the odious stench set Sancho's pot boyling, till it run over in such violence, that he return'd his Masters full meale into his mouth againe, and a second course into the service; they never knew one anothers mindes better then now, for they utter'd them fully and wholly, not a secret to their very heart but was open'd, the Knight had all that was in Sancho, and Sancho had all out of the Knight. If their soules were ever so faithfull at confession, upon easie Pennance, they might very well be clear'd.

Which Wallet when he found wanting, he was re [...]dy to run out of his wits.] This violent and thorough discharge, puts Sancho in mind of his Wallet, Animus in Patinis: Which when he saw lost, he wish'd his head also lost, which he thought was the lesse dammage, for the Wallet held somewhat, but the other nothing, his stomack cri'd out upon him too, for making such clean work, there was not an egge in the nest, nothing for that boyling Caldron to work upon. His body in lieu of his Wallet, was like an empty sack; gaping for a replenish.

But what great Cat [...]rer durst take the taske,

To fill with grossest Fare that emptie Caske?

If we could find the herbes you us'd to talk of.] These exenterations, embowellings, and disgorgings▪ made Sancho's appetite like a swine, he desir'd to be turn'd a grazing. But what Commons would suffice? a grand Sallad of Paradise Garden would hardly fill up the concavities and chinks of the Squire. Greenland in a Tansey, would have been like a Pancake, which he would have rowl'd and swallow'd faster then a Duck doth wormes.

In the nether part you have two Cheek-Teeth, and in the [...] Sancho to his owne great joy, recounts the losse of this [...] Teeth. His chiefe adversaries (which so oft put him to the jaw-halt) were dislodg'd, and never returnable. So that now he rides cheek by jole, and though the Don was the better Carpet-Knight, yet he thought himselfe the [...]est Table-Squire, and for such an incounter now his mouth waters, which overflowing nothing can stop, but an Inius existens of three dayes arreare in provisions at once.

[Page]

CHAP. V.

Roome for our Hercules! hark how he knocks

At Pluto's gate, and hath his dog by th' locks;

Hee'l dragge the thre chopt curre from his black night,

And make him shake his taile in broad day light:

Death shall not bold her prey, and the poor Manes,

Fe [...]r he will force 'um to the Peri-cranes

From whence they came, or into Birds or Asses,

Or Fish, which doctrine was Pythagoras [...]his.

A Coarse, and Mourners, nothing him aware on,

(Before the Ghost can get a boat of Charon)

Is stopt i'th' way to Ceres sonne in Law,

Whom Madame Proserpine doth keep in Awe,

And Jove Feretrius must wait upon,

Before he have the Corps, the will o' th' Don.

This was a deadly wofull enterprise,

And shew'd him full of inhumanities,

Denying buriall to the dead; to these

Had paid Church duties, e'n to the Clerks Fees.

Now while the holy Quire in white sur-plices,

His Requiem sing, in twaine their sarks he slices,

And beats the mourning from the heads of those,

(Who water'd not their hoods) they call the close:

This only Field be wonne, and bravely vapours,

Whilst Sancho robb'd the Sumpter by the Tapers.

Choler in stomack raises canine Fury,

They're for the living, let the Dead dead Bury.

TEXT.

MEthinks (Sr) the mischiefs that have befallen us, are punishment for the breach of your oaths, of not eating bread on a Table-cloth, or sporting with a Queen.]

Securi de salute, pro gloriâ pugnant.

Now that they are free, scot-free I mean, for that was al [...] the liberty they had, as to reckonings, only they beginne to be wanton, and to wit it one upon another.

Sancho imputes all his shrubbings to his Masters perjuries,

Aliu [...] peccat, alius plectitur,

Delirant reges, plectant [...]r Achivi.

Knight-Errant Feasts, and wantons in desire,

And he is beat by Proxie, by his Squire:

That's I, Poor Sancho Panch [...] call'd, or P [...]nsa,

Poor I confesse, but honest no man can-say;

For how can Man live just that wants reliefe?

A beggar Master, makes a servant thiefe.

[Page] Sancho charges (for at these word [...]charges he was very tongue-valiant) the Don, that he did more then embrace that nasty Queane Maritornes, and Knight-Errants are like Al [...]bymists; if they be not chast, godly men, the worke will fly in Fu [...]a. 'Tis true that he did eat no meat on Table cloths, which was the other part of the oath, yet that was not kept in sincerity and simplicity as it ought to be, but out of meer necessity, because they had nor meat nor napery. And whereas he was to have abandon'd linnen as well at Bed as Board, he had violated that too; for he lay in a paire of sheets, (though they were course and nasty) that a dog would have made choise of the chimny corner, rather then rowl'd in; And so multiplyed perjuries, multiplyed punishments. Your sporting with Maritornes was return'd to you in the shrewd earnest of her deluded Carrier, and the yearning of your bowels, with the kneading of your guts: Your forgetfulnesse in lying (though in fowle sheets,) was recomp [...]nsed with a foule blow with the oyle-pot, where you lay for dead a long time, what with the grease my Hostesse bestow'd on you, and the overflowings of the Lamp, prepared for the Grave, without any further Ceremony of Supreme Unction.

The Don replyed, thou maiest likewise think certainly, that for thy non-remembrancing of me, that of the Coverlet was inflicted on thee.]

Facillimum est accusare.

But the Don Grammet-confuted Sancho presently, with his Te ipsum intueri oportet qui alterum incusas probri; And emblematically brush'd him, (though at this time without his Wallet) canvasse thine own Wallet friend Sancho, and bring that part of the budget before, where thine own crimes should lye, and throw not thy proper Errata behind thy back, (as they are us'd to be put at the latter end of a Book.) I am criminall for embracing the Illustrious Dulcinea, for so my fansie represented that Fustilugs unto me; I was only a trespásser in wish (a small Peccadillo that, Sancho) but had shee been there in person (with all the witchery of Love and Beautie) I tell thee Sancho to my griefe, I tell thee, I could not have said boh to the Goose, that is, I could not have plaid the par [...] of a Gander, the multitude of my sick Feathers making me unserviceable, which the Civilians term frigidity quoad hanc. But Sancho, thou hadst the Asturian Donzell [...] betwixt the sheets, which sight the most favourable Judges of actions, even Whores and Bawds if they had seen, they would have said you had been naught: To come to a corporall contact, (say the same Civilians) is the next gradus or step to a Falathras; and the Falathra is the Falathra Sancho, that is all in all, and what ever thou and the foule pusse did doe (sub Rosa as they say) while you were plucking of her Rose; I am sure by the plaudit and claps at your [...]ngresse or egr [...]sse, it was a signe that you did your worke well. For which levaltos and Incontinencies of the blankets, (for indeed thou hadst no shee [...] I remember well) the exaltations of the Coverle [...], and thy manifold risings and fallings in that Horizon, befell thee as a just recompence; and what thou didst privately and unheard, (except in the loud salutations of her Pone, or Canopus,) which was able to have set any flesh as well as haires an end; it was openly reveng'd, thy Body being visibly purg'd in the open aire, for thy fulsome wickednesse in a close room; and because crying whore first▪ rather bespatters another, then cleares ones selfe, they concluded this bitter dialogue of [Page] accusations, and each man took upon him as concern'd him: The Don (as his due) the precedency in the perjury; Sancho as in the Frontispiece, kept not such a distance, but that he might very well be an Accessary, if not hayle fellow well met, especially in all the pilferings, Hedge-robberies, Debenturs, at Inns, and Farriers scores, for drenches for themselves and Horses, besides nailes and shooes, which in the many years▪ Travels of the Don, came to vast sums of mony, and doe lye a [...] this day, a charge upon the Manchegans, (for the Don died insolvent and intestate, unlesse it were such a Will as Dego made,) but a composition being made with his Creditors, upon the Auditing of the severall Bils, the Villagers tooke upon them the payment of the debts (a small time allowed them, and agreed upon by Article of some two or three thousand yeares for the performing of it.) The Corporation having nothing for their Security and Indemnity, but the Reversion of Dulci [...]nea's Joynture, who they say is not yet dead, (for such a one no man can say was ever living.) And so the Accompt stands copia vera, with a concordat cum Originali, sworne by two of the most reverend of the Senate of the Mancha, and subscribed in great letters,

Gualtero Tyleros,

Iohannos Stramineros.

Sancho beholding the Torches, and the Visions in white and block habits, was struck into a wonderfull amazement, and his Lord was not much better.] A burnt child dreads the Fire, (saith the proverb,) but the truth of it is, that the Don and his Squire were never parabolically basted, but literally in the very common notion and acceptation of the word. And this encounter at the first view, did presage more danger then any yet, here being the greatest number of enemies, except in the adventure of the Flock, that ever they met with; besides, it was like to be night-work, and Sancho had bad eyes, and could no [...] tilt well by Candle-light. His Asse also as well as Rosinante, star'd and grew wilder at the approach of the lights, then the Windmill, for they had been acquainted with that adventure, and had gone the rounds, often employed by Molendinario, The Gyant of the place: Wherefore Reader blame not this Tertian that is upon them at present, for indeed they were seldome out of a Quotidian shaking. But now it intermitted, vomiting in principio morbi being the best Physick for it, of which they had their belly full, (if that may be said without a bull;) but considering they did bucket and discharge on into another, (like two cunning gunners, who shoot so direct and levell against one anothers muzzles, that they send each ones ball back to the mouths of the Canon from whence they came, and make bullets Sea-Crabs, and teach them to be retrogade;) In that signification, I say, they may be said to have disembogued their belly full. But to the note; the horrid fright they are in, cals to mind a paire of Spirits of equall match, who like Sancho and the Don, or rather like two cakes of Size, or trembling Custards, are put into an Ague with apprehension of their sodaine devouring: But this story which I shall now tell you, is somewhat apposite to this, and neer upon a subject. In a Tragedie (that was prepar'd for the publike view of the University,) the Actors were privately to be trled upon the Stage, that upon the insufficiency of the persons, or unfittednesse, the men might be chang'd, But two Scholars there were in [Page] this Spanish Tragedy (which was the story of Petrus Crudelis) whose parts were two Ghosts or Apparitions of some Noble Personages, which that Bloody Prince had Murder'd. These two at the Repetitions spoke their lines very confidently, insomuch, that the Judges thought they would be very good Ghosts; but when the tryall night came, that the Play was to be presented to some few friends before the publick exhibit, and then these two Scholars were put out of their blacks into white long robes, their Faces meal'd, and Torches in their hands, and some flashes of Sulphur made at their entrance, just as they put their heads through the hangings of the Scene, comming out at two severall sides of the Stage, they shook so, and were so horribly affrighted at one anothers gashly lookes, that no force of those behind them, could get them to advance a foot forward toward the stage, or speak a word of their Parts; but there as they first stood, they stood for halfe an houre shaking, quaking, and staring one upon another, Insomuch, that they put the Auditory into such a shaking with laughing, that they had almost died with the excessive motions of the Diaph [...]agme. In fine, the Ghosts retreated, and other two Persons of better hearts were pitch'd upon, who were such fellowes, that if the Divell had appear'd (as 'tis said he did amongst Doctor Faustus his supernumerary feinds) they would not have been afraid at the sight.

Sancho with leave, departed a little out of the way, and discovering many white things, so that his courage abated, and he did chatter with his teeth.] The Don cries out, willing to save his Squire, ‘Heu fuge (nate Die) teque his (ait) eripe Flammis.’

And imagining himselfe to be Hectors Ghost (as he was not unlike at present) he proceeds in his owne person,

—Si Pergama dextr [...]

Defendi possint etiam hâc defensa fuissent.

As to the first being, it was for Sancho's honour and preservation, we shall give you this account in English:

O fly my high-born Squire, borne at high Noon

Under a hedge, in sight of open Sunne;

I see of flames thou maist be well afeard,

Keep off therefore, for thou art a hedge-bird.

And as for the other, because there is more in that, we must inlarge out Translation, for ‘Pergamus (infelix Urbs Troum) Pergama gignit.’ Where you see Pergamus, you may see a City which is more then an ordinary Verse, and therefore must be said,

What makes thee shake, what makes thy teeth to chatter?

Art thou afraight or frighted? what's the matter?

Thou mak'st me tremble at they flesh-quake, Pancha,

Look on thy Don, the Shake-speare of the Mancha,

Whose chiefe defence I am: The undertaker

Of all Heroick Actions, though a shaker.

Indeed the Don could not chatter so well as Sancho, because of the losse of his Cheek-Teeth, but what he wanted in that Musick, was supplied in motion; for his Carnimotus was so violent, that he had like to have throwne Rosinante down, being all in a sweat, as if the Hagge rode him. The singular [Page] knackings of Sancho's teeth, puts me in minde of a strong fancied man, a Scholar, and a good Trencher-man, who was invited to a great Feast, (which was the next day prepar'd) and some of the principall dishes being related to him, (for he was alwaies inquisitive upon such occasions, into the bill of Fare,) he lik'd them very well, for they were very agreeable to his palate; and for better inabling himselfe for the tooth-encounter, the day before he walk'd methodically, eat slenderly, dranke cauteously, and went to bed seasonably (being excellent preparatives for the next dayes action.) But O the mischance! he was no sooner in bed but asleep, no sooner in sleep but dreaming, for his hightned fancy presented all the Catalogue of the dishes to his soule, as lively as if they had been at Table; so that it wrought reall impressions and impulses upon his body, to the motion of his hands, which he manag'd, as if his knife had been in it; but above all, his Teeth out-travell'd Sancho's, and went such a swift trot, that it waked his Chamber-fellowes, who thought by the noyse that he was dreaming he had been in Hell; wherefore about to rise and wake him, they were suspended awhile by his words, for ever and anon he said, Sir, Sir, Sir▪ pray hand the Spring of Porke to me, pray advance the Rump of Beefe this way, the Chine of Bacon, O the Chine, with your leave the Chine, Sir, and then the first dish againe Sir, and in his Complements, his Teeth kept Minnum and Semibriefe time so excellently, that the persons resolv'd to wake him, did lye down and laugh, wonderfully pleas'd to see their friend so singularly contented in the same instant at bed and board. The Scholar wak'd after a sound sleep, but could remember no sport that he made, nor would he believe the Auditors relations, untill by wofull experience, he found his Face swell'd, and his Gumms so batter'd and bruised with the repercussions of his grinders, that he was not able to stirre his jawes, nor could be partaker of any of the good cheer, except it were the liquid part of it, which they call Dutch gleek, where he plaied his cards so well, and vied and revied so often, that he had scarce an eye to see withall, his guzzle rec [...]npencing abundantly the want of his Teeth.

It figured unto him that the Litter was a Bier, wherein was carried some slaughtered Knight, whose revenge was reserv'd for him.] I wonder that Cyd Hameti Benengeli, did not venture to tell us whose body the Don fancied to be there. It must needs be, that his high imagination ran upon some eminent Person, or else he would not doubtlesse have undertook a design of so much hazard and odds, and without the second Ship of Sancho, who came not in at all, but only to the pillage; certainly he could not but conceive and strongly apprehend, that the Body of that Famous Knight-Errant and Traveller, Tom [...] Coriato, was carrying home to great Br [...]tany, being slaine by that grand Gyant of Hildeberg in a single Duell, and being dead, was (that the Murder might not be discovered) said to be the Valiant Knight of the Stand or Stoop; or it may be he did, and very patly, conceit, that the Body of Gulilmo Stivos, whom we call'd Summers, was conveying away, who was the Knight of the Sunne, or rather Colo-Paltono, the huge Gyant, Brother to Capitanio Ionesio, who both were Knights of the Burning Pestle. If none of these, without doubt, he must needs intend the rescue of that gallant Man of Tooth-action, Don Mariotto, Knight of the Inasswagable Panch, whom those Inchanters, Moors, and Witches, the Mourners and [Page] P [...]aeficae, and the singing-men, whom he absolutely took for white Devils, had coss [...]'d up unvindicated untill this present houre, when a high revenge was to be inflicted by DON, Repairer of injuries.

He said, stand (Sr Knight) who ever you be.] The Don buckles to the Van of all the Army, and assaults the first pittifull Scou [...]of this lamentable Body, whom he should have quaeriedin this manner, and in sober sadnesse demanded of him, First, why his Nose run so fast? Secondly, what a whining he kept? Thirdly, whether he meant to lose his eyes because he should never see his friend againe? Fourthly, why his friend, who was out of sight, might not as well be out of minde? Fifthly, whether he griev'd so, because his friend had left the World, or rather had left him nothing but the wide World? Sixthly, whether his mourning were a legacy, or upon his owne charges that he wept so? Seventhly, whether the man died mad, (if he made him Executor,) and he fear'd that a caveat would be entred against the Will, and in fine be overthrowne? Eighthly, whether he dyed and gave no Sugar-Plums, Naples-Bisket, burnt wine, Ribbons, Gloves, nor Scutchions? To the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 interrogatories, nihil dicit, nor to a hundred more such examinations. For,

Curaeleves loquntur, ingentes stupent;

He was a hireling, and commanded teares,

Not for his griefe, but pay, in's eyes appears.

The Mourners were so muffled in their weeds that they could not stirre; so that Don Quixot without any danger to his person gave them all the Bastinado.]

He had the better of the whites in this checquer'd board, now have-at the blacks; the singing men were at Dirges, and howl'd out for a Requiem for themselves, being departed soules, and scatter'd up and downe the Face of the whole Field, who afrighted now (but in their wits they were Fatui) are only Ignes Fatui, and 'tis wonder that Sancho did not follow 'um up and downe the Chase, instead of Will with the Wispe, or Gyl burnt tayle. But the Don out of all rule was measuring Spanish cloth by the speare, and meant to make prize and booty of it all, for it was sub hastâ It was a dismall piece of night-work, and worthy the pencill of a Zeuxis. Here and there lay the pittifull spoyles of the Knights of the black-robes; Ribbons (good twelve-penny broad) hackt as small as beauty-specks, Gloves cut into thumbstals, Cypresse harbands shrivilled into black chitterlins or—Scutcheons flew in the aire like paper-Ravens, (for Kites are not black enough,) so that the Field was all a black Heath, and Rosinante embossed in the pursuit, never went prouder in all his life, treading all the way upon Spanish cloth of twenty shillings a yard. The Passengers of the severall waies, imagin'd they had been Fairies a horse-back, and that the Knight, the Queen's own eldest sonne was running the Rounds after his Lady Mother for a blessing.

All this Sancho beheld marvelling at his Masters boldnesse.]

Aut meus Erasmus est, aut Daemon.

Either this is DON QVIXOT, or the Devill himselfe quoth Sancho, who is come to carry the body to the fellowship of his soule.

I doe believe the Divel's in my Master,

who ever basted was till now; Now's baster.

Or thus; For Erasmus will beare it:

[Page] O see the man that was the Mouse,

Become a vermin Montanous.

Doe not kill me, for you will commit a great Sacriledge, I being a licentiat, and receiving the first orders.] This Licentiat was of the lower Forme of the Levites, he had newly come from his

Quò vos? ad Glosteros.

Quid ibi vos? ad sumendos orderos.

I bimus nos cum vos? etiam si placet vos.

He had no more Latine then the Missale, and that not in Capite, but by book. This fellow was to sing in Tone, and no matter for Accents, Quantities and Terminations: The Latine Tongue never suffers Purgatory, but in the singing mens mouths, which I wonder the Pope hath no dispensation for, at least a Dirge for the Tortures of the Catholick Language. His Person however is sacred, and his calling religious, though it were a high shame that such a piece of grosse ignorance, should have protection under so holy a shelter. Take him out of his habits and set him in a Market, and no man but would prefer a Tinker before him, or give more for a Calfe, flesh for flesh, braines for braines. Alive he was in his cloths five pound a blow, but out of his clericall vestures, not worth so much as five sparrowes, which is halfe a farthing.

Who kill'd him, quoth Don Quixot? God quoth the Batchelor.] The Don neither fear'd God, Gyants, nor Pestilentiall Feavers, yet at present his Valour seem'd to have some symptomes of discretion in it, he lets the matter alone, nor would not turn Typhaeus and fight with Heaven; just like a brother of the Sword, or a Gyant of the Way, hearing (while he was in Travell for a certaine season, till the quieting some two or three foolish Hues and Cries and searches were over) that his brother (as he call'd him) was dead, for the naturall brother of him departed, meeting of him in Paris told him the sad story; with great signes of griefe, and anger too, our Hector entertain'd the relation, vowing by all that was holy (things that he never mentioned but at such a Ceremony) that if he would impart unto him, who was the Person that had robb'd him and the World of his delights, he would be the apparent and single Vindex and Ultor of his Brothers blood, the Brother requested his patience and dispensation to that point, shrugging and saying, it was too late to looke after it, better passe it over in a wise and politicke silence, and dissemble the malice for a more proper opportunity of revenge; the other violent upon the Inquisition for blood, and to shew his Indeerednesse, prest often to know the Murderer of his friend: The Brother could by no meanes be brought about to discover. At which the Bravo seeming extreamly perplext, good Sr saith he, deny me not this honour, let me know the place only, and from thence I will make a hunt, untill my curious Arts and Quaeries have tract out the guilty person, as sure as a blood-hound doth a Thiefe by the foot, wherefore pray satisfie my affections, as to the place then; the Brother said, Sr I cannot well deny you it, but it had been better buried too, for it cals fresh griefe into my eyes, for truly St said he, my Brother was slaine, speaking in a very small voice, mincing the words, as the French doe Tibi; he was slaine I say, at a place by a Parks side, not farre from the Metropolis of England; to be briefe, he was slain at Teburne. He o'th' Sword, stood as [Page] mute as the Don, for 'twas as good and all one, as if God had done it. with the Country, or else the Presse-yard had ended the quarrell; such an answer as this quieted men of greater power, then this Man of Armes. The Constable and all his Watch, who, good conservers of the Peace, one night took a fellow late out, but not out of his wits, for he had been transgre [...]sing in the sober sinne, with those that rob the braines, but another way then by drinking: The Watch apprehend him, and bring him before the Magistrate of the Night, who with gilded staffe, welted and guarded Gowne, with wrought Night-cap, look'd very dreadfull, and ask'd this noctivigator, where he had been so late, and with whom, and whither he was going, and to whom, whether he was a servant or Master, and many such questions; to which the fellow (for he was a Scotch Man) answered but little; at last, the Constable ask'd whither he had not got a cup too much, the sinner said, ney in gewd faith Sr, I he not had one swoop, nor sloop drinke this night, dele o' my sall if I have; who dost thou belong to man, say? marry (Sirs) and Ice tell you friends, well ha you askt, For I serve a good Laird, A Lord said the Constable, what Lord? e'n the gewd Lord of Hosts said the Scotch Man; the Constable and Watchmen stared upon one another, totally ignorant of the Noble Man, and let him goe, saying, it is some Scotch Lord or other, I'le warrant you.

Sancho was otherwise imployed, ransacking of a Sumpter Mule.] Pancha had done nothing worthy of notice in this Encounter of the Coarse; now he comes upon the Stage, the Catastrophe of the Tragedy: he took his cue right, and finding a Mule without a Master, summon'd the Beast in, and made himselfe Master of the Mule, and all the provisions culinarie, which were for the upper and lower Regions; he long'd for such a prey, very properly long'd, for he had a very great Belly, by the Notion of which, he us'd to send to Tavernes, or any place where good cheere was provided, to get a cut of the best, which he never fail'd of. He had the whole pillage of the Panniers, which were the first fruits of the Church-men, those he thrust, because they belonged to their Coat, into a Cassock for want of his VVallet, and stuff'd the Divinity Habit so full of the Creature, that [...] lookt as if the right owner had been in it. It was serviceable after this greasie use for nothing but to preach at a Carnivale or Shrove-tuesday, and to tosse Pancakes in after the Exercise; or else (if it could have been conveighed thither) nothing more proper for the man that preaches the Cooks Sermon at Oxford, when that plump Society rides upon their Governours Horses to fetch in the Enemie, the File.

Don Quixot, otherwise called the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face.] It is usuall for Knights and Dons Errant to take appellative names from their successes, places of Birth, Conquest or Favour, as the Popes and great Emperours doe sometimes Praenomina, sometimes Agnomina, sometimes both. He remembred on his Holinesse, that was call'd Bonifacius, another Vrbanus, another Clemens, in reverence to those, and Sir-to his owne, (for it was a Knights Face) he stiles himselfe of the Ill-favoured Face, not improperly, nor farre fetcht. In Latine it is Male-facius, in Latino-Britan, Scurvy-Facius, or Filthy-faciu [...], or to make a word proportionable to the subject, (for there was not much difference betwixt Rosinantes and his own) Male-scurvy [...] filthy-Facius.

[Page] I will upon the first occasion have the Face painted in my shield.] Minervas Aegis not so terrible, an excellent bugbeare to keep little children out of the water with, or to set in one of Cloacina's reservatory, or privie Chambers, where the person in the hardest labour cannot make a worse, or else most pat A Face, to those, only pictur'd in Nunneries, and that at sight of it, they might superfete their vow, and not only forsweare the use, but the very looks of Men-kinde for ever, unlesse it be after confession, when they doe not shew their owne faces, nor see their Confessors. Blesse the man, for he had very bad lookes, a hanging look, as ever was seen.

Sancho, I believe I am excommunicated for laying hands on a consecrated thing.]

Iuxta illud siquis suadente Diabolo.

Still harping upon five pound a blow! had the Don himselfe been in Orders, (as 'twas impossible to keep him) undoubtedly he had prov'd the richest man in Europe, upon the penalty of halfe the mony; he had a body would have brought him in of old rents, at least a thousand li. per mensem, which is a very great incom, if it should improve to a rack. I knew a quarrelsome scholar, that us'd to make his crackt Crowne, his debt-booke; he was alwayes fighting, alwayes beaten, the blowes he tooke pro tempore, and his batterers pro termino. As his purse failed, or pockets emptied, he would have recourse to his hammer'd Noddle, and streight fetch in a 5 li. which had been posted off a year or two; on one side Debenturs for juggepots, on the other, Arrears for Pewter Candlesticks, (which were for change presently after an incounter) all his skull over, were either open wounds or cicatris'd, Chirurgian unpaid, and his witnesses, the Tapster, a brace of Drawers, or the wench at Bar, with whom he was alwaies in Fee for a little Sugar at hand; and thus he made a shift to put bread in his head, and furnish the inside, from the injuries of the outside, living not by his wits, but by his pate.

This juxta siquis suadente Diabolo, is of very neer affinity to one of our Sessions-charges, or indictements, our Common Law is as dangerous as Canon shot in that case. Whereas, Quixot of the Mancha, contrary to the Lawes of his Catholick Majesty, and the peace of his Realme, having not the feare of God before his eyes, did murtherously, bloodily, and feloniously, (in, with, and by the Advise, help and assistance of one Sancho Pancha of the Village aforesaid, and servant to the Quixot aforesaid) dismantle, rob, and rifle a Sumpter-Horse, and per minas, insultus & Durez, that is to say, with three hard words, un-mule, un-leg, and un-able, Alanso Lopez, ordinary to the fraternity of Nova Prisona, and at the same time took away, besides his wits (which are not valued) a Missale, six Crucifixes, a sute of Beads, a dozen of Indulgencies, as many Agnus Dei's, two Anathemas, and other considerable things, goods and Chattels, out of the pocket of Alanzo Lopez aforesaid, a Tobacco box with a Burning Glasse, a Case of Pipes, two ro [...] ten Nutmegs, and a pick-Tooth; amounting in all, to the value of thirteen pence halfe-penny; therefore the said Quixot of the Mancha aforesaid, and the said Sancho Pancha aforesaid, of the Mancha aforesaid, are hereby indicted, arraign'd and charged to be guilty in the first place of wit-Murder, in the second place, of severall Sacriledges, in the third place, of pilfering; [Page] and so we leave him to the Consciences of twelve honest men, and true to doe as the Lawes in that case require, ‘Alanso Lopez.’

Therefore let us retire to our repast; and to the grave with the dead, let them that live, eat bread.] Grasse and Hay, quoth Rosinante and the Asse, we are all Mortall. Eat Mancheat tot Senioli, say Sancho and the Don. While the Jury are kept close to agree about the verdict, the indicted c [...]y a merry life and a short, he that eates most may have the luck to break the halter: Therefore they fed devoutly, yet without Grace or looking up to heaven, and so sweet every thing tasted, as (a relish being added to it from the manner of the purchase,) that they dream'd not of any sowre sawce. The dryer and more crusty meats fell to Sancho's share, who was tooth-proofe, the softer, more putrified and moist, the Don invaded, sighing often betwixt the goblets, for the inability of his Mandibles, and sometimes he would lay hold on Sancho's hands, and say, O Sancho, time was, and not long since too, that thou couldst not have cast me thus behind thee; but if I live by the help of a Corall, it may be, and Heaven grant it, I may rub up a new set of Cadmeian pegs againe, or some artificiall supply, I will re-indent my mouth, and not see my selfe Tantaliz'd thus to my face, for want of the most necessary Instruments of life. Sancho was secure of Ember weeks for his life, for beside the misse of his Teeth, much of the Gum and Jaw were dilacerated, that ther [...] was no possibility of laying a foundation in that ruinous rubbish.

CHAP. VI.

O for a subtile Painter! were he found,

To draw toth' life, th' Incounter of the Sound!

A Pencill worthy, where d' you thinke to finde?

Yes from the Wing, if you can catch't, o' th' Wind.

A Canvasse of the purest part o' th' aire,

Such as you cannot see, it 's so thinne, were rare!

Then would I have an Eccho at rebound,

As shee makes Capers from the hollow ground,

Caught, and by cunning Art I would her fix

In that aire-Table, by some silver quix:

Deaded by spettle, which being borne i'th' place

Where Eccho lives, do's know her doubling face.

I would have Sancho's eares ta'n at full length,

As he did stretch 'um in his passions strength;

And the Don's whole one prickt, and the small pittance

The Biscaine left, but he paid for th' acquittance.

Unto these parcels, and eares integrall,

I would have the two Brutes, just foure in all,

Which with the other three▪ and quarter make

Seven and a dodkin, O how the piece would take

[Page] Especially if in the proper places,

VVere pourtraicted to' th' life the Iron Maces;

And Sancho too, with pode disrob'd discharg-ing

Such stuffe, as, fo [...], you often see a Barge in:

The vapours in th' ascent, the stuff [...]'th' fall,

I would delineate, and whats all in all,

His filthy Buttocks mounted, downe his hose,

And the Don stoutly tweaking his owne nose.

This in a Table rarely done and well,

Faith, throw it in the fire, if 'twould not sell.

TEXT.

AND we shall meet that which may mitigate the terrible Thirst that afflicts us, which sets us questionlesse in more pain then did our hunger.] It is a great quaerie in the scruple-house of Nature, which a man may best indure, and longest, Hunger, or Thirst, want of Meat, or want of Drink: The Brethren of the Spicket, state the question in the Negative, and lay downe for a fundamentall, that there is no living without Liquids, no not a day; Ale is their eating and their drinking surely, the Bilbos, the Trouts, the Aristippians, the Beereans, the Aleans, the Canareians, and Claretteers, Antient Philosophers, were all of Consull Bitulus his opinion and practise, and of that able and comprehensive Tholus, and the faire match of Fuscus his custome, according to the measure of that draught, which was ‘—Dignum sitiente Tholo, vel conjuge Fusci.’ Which was a Goddard, or Rummer, or lusty Bowle taken exactly by Silenus his Canne, which was the standard for mornings and evenings draughts, and the whole school (I mean Schola Bibendi) and their asseclae Bibaculorum, Madidorum, & Temulentorum, who are the greatest, and most spreading Sect in the World, follow that way to a drop, whichis called in the most authentick and emphaticall word they have, super naculum; amongst these it is an undeniable principle, that vita consist it in Humido, and a drive soule, quatenus talis, cannot last. The intrinsecall radicall moysture must be supplied, recruited, and replenished with the extrinsecall liquids, that is, exempli gratid, in the morning with a sphericall Tost in a pot of Ale of good capacity, that it may not be resisted, but force passage, and break through all obstructions. Before dinner again, refresh your Lamp, (for it is alwaies wasting) with the generous oyle of Sack, nitty, roapy, and razy; at dinner with the same, unlesse for varieties sake you have an auxiliary and lusty glasse or two of Vine de France; after dinner, for you must not have too long intermissions, to your Sack againe, Typice, Topice, and Tropice. By the constant and quotidian succours, you provide against the conflagration of the Microcosme, which like that of the greater magnitude, must and will (unlesse these provident rules prevent it) dye of a burning Fevour: Wherefore like prudent smiths, have by your Forge, the troffe of water continually, and learn your quantities, for pidling draughts will not doe it.

—parvaeque Aspergine lymphae

Grandior exurgit, laesus que irascitur Ignis.

[Page] According to the capacity of your vessell, the dilatation of the veines, which if they be large and full, plainly indicates that a brave flame (which is alwaies extending it selfe, and enlarging his narrow quarters) plaies in the Azure Channell; no small services nor misers glasses will doe the businesse here, nor Pimplico's discharg'd to the round inthe middle; but a thorough and totall exhausting, draining, and swooping the whole vessell, were it as we say▪ to the bottome a mile: According to the example of our friend Bytias in Virgil,

—Ille impiger hausit,

Spumantem pateram, & pleno se proluit auro.

And because I am indebted to you a Translation, I shall clap both the pieces of verses of two severall Authors (agreeing so well in the matter) into one Epigram.

A little water doth incense the fier,

Drinke deeper, boy, and see you fi [...]'t up higher.

Somewhat at top is best, when the briske wine

Swims l [...]ke a Coronet round the brims, 'tis fine.

Bitias beginne thy plentifull Carouse,

And we as thee, our selves in Sack will sowce.

E [...]contra, the adverse party, which are sober fellowes, the Brethren of the Fange, that would have all conveyances dispatch'd the old way, by Indent of the Tooth, the Marriotae, Idiotae, Lytherani, Stubbingenses, VVoodenses, Cannibals, and Lycaones, such as have the Woolf or Dogge in their stomacks, Crosse-byters, Crosse-sitters, Taylors, Gentle Crafts-man, Smiths, and all manner of Antelucan Labourers, who make provision for the flesh, make the flesh their provision. These lay down for their Axiom [...] and Dogmata, Tempus edax rerum; eat at all times, Totos ponit apros. Be not ashamed to have a stomack like a Swine, ede, lude, live to eat, and play for meat.

Cum morte summa voluptas;

There is no happinesse to the Grave, who is alwaies devouring never satisfied, eating even these great eaters too.

Besides, they strengthen themselves with varieties of learned precepts, such as

Animal propter convivia natum,

Homines fruges consumere na [...]i.

For nought but to be eat is borne the Creature,

Oves and Boves must be slaine, Man's the Eater.

Then consider rationally, and naturall-Philosopher-like, consider and compute the many parts, joynts, sinews, atteries, veines, bones, skins, parts, similar, dissimilar, Homogeneous, Heterogeneous, spermatick, sanguinary, muscular, gutturall, dentall, mandibular, &c. which are all to be maintained out of this kitchin-natural, the stomack, by the providore, the mouth, who would think that any Shambles, Poultreys, Newgate-Markets, Cheapesides, Eastcheapes, Faires, Festivals, Saturnals, Jubilees, are able to satisfie the severall Interests, of so many Ravenous expectants, much more, when this Macroc [...]sme is full of Microcosmes, and every one, the least Infant in the universality of men, hath as much to maintaine, as the greatest Gyant in the World: Wherefore Saturn (the very Lun [...]ford of the [Page] Deities) shew'd you what to doe rather then starve, marry eat thine owne Children, 'tis the next way to make a wise child, to teach him to know his Father, as well as if he were in him. Lycaon followed that course of dyet, and ever since it hath been practised, Homo homini Lupus, we may eat one another, till there is but one man left, and so the World may end, as it began.

When Sancho heard these words, he began to weep with the greatest Compassion of the World, and said unto him, Sr, &c.]

Nos patriam sugimus & Dulcia linquimus arva.

Have not I left for thee the Onyon Beds,

Scallions and Garlike, which hath stronger heads

Then any yet we met? and more then these,

What is more strong, my Mary Gutierez,

Wife of my Bosome; Sancho Pancha's wealth?

Who covetous foole, have ta'n a course of stealth,

May bring me to the Rope, not Onyon Ropes,

But such as at one swing drown Care and Hopes.

O had you heard our Curate, you'd not snatch

At dangers thus; he taught, harme watch, harme catch,

And you e'r since the adventure of the Windmill,

Run headlong on, and will, or make, or find-ill;

The Smith-Field Gyants laid you in a zound,

And now a Gyant of the eare y' have found;

For we see nothing but a rustling noise,

Good Sr forbeare to search into the cause;

For if you should doe otherwise then well,

(As gold [...] Argent you doe) pray who shall tell?

Thinke you that I am worthy to relate

The manner of the Combate, and your Fate?

Who will believe, A Knight that liv'd by applause,

Vnfortunate, should perish by a noise?

Who will believe, when wrote in books we find

A head of Windmils, ruin'd by a Wind?

Who will believe, when on the earth y'are found,

That such an Eare-lesse Knight should dye o' th' sound?

No Sr, let Sancho Counsell, do you kep [...],

VVe have been soundly beat, let's now sound sleep't.

And if our dreams are full of such mad whimsies,

Let's fight in sleep, but waking let our Limbs-ly.

Sancho tied his Asses Halter, to both Rosinantes legs.]

Dolus an virtus quis in Hoste requirat!

Sancho found a politick and strong Remora for the Knights speed, and what Prayers, Preachments and teares could not obtaine from the Master-Fool, he got by the Asse his servant, unto whom he had girt Rosinante so straight, that he was not sui Iuris, for he was Asse-Tedder'd, and in potestate Halterius. The Don presently smels out the businesse, an Incantation upon the Horse for want of nailing his old shooes at the door of his house when he came forth, or because, nor the old Woman, nor the Barber, nor his Neece, nor the Curate design'd him the security of an old shooe after him. [Page] Little thought the Don, that Muniat [...]n Freston rode upon the Ass by him, and that Rosinante was becalm'd, not for want of winde, but by too much Cable Rope. Here they must cast Anchor perforce, and though the Brutes are at rest, the Don will not permit his senses to foregoe their Offices, but keeps his Eyes, Eares and Nose, very busily employed all night, as thereby hangs a tale.

Be you attentive, for now I begin, it was that it was.] Once a top of a time, so, and so so, and says hee, says he, says he, and quoth he, quoth he, quoth he, are the naturall cement of most tales.

If thou tellest thy tale after this manner, repeating every word twice that thou saiest, thou wilt not make an end this two daies.] Custome of ridiculous speeches prevaile much upon most men, who having us'd themselves to some impertinent word or phrase, cannot, even in matters of greatest consequence, forgo it. For example, a Reverend Judge, was to give a charge at the Assize, which was with great gravity and sincerity perform'd, had it not been every where interlarded with, in that kinde, that was his customary word; so that to every materiall thing, this was sure to come in. As Gentlemen of the Jury, you ought to enquire after recusants in that kind, & such as doe not frequent the Church in that kinde, but above all, such as haunt Ale-houses in that kinde, notorious Whoremasters in that kinde, Drunkards and Blasphemers in that kinde, and all notorious offenders in that kind, are to be presented in that kinde, and, as the Laws in that kind direct, must be proceeded against in that kinde; which set all but the Bench (who were to keep the Peace by their places) into a laughter of that kinde, that being charged by the Cryer to silence, they could not, till they had ended laughing and crying together. A Gentleman being ask'd (after the Court rose) how he lik'd the Judges charge to day, answered it was the best, in that kind, that ever he heard. Like to this, something was that of an Inn-keeper in the same City, who being troubled extreamly with the D' you see, to all discoveries, upon an occasion being put to say Grace; began, the eyes of all things, D' you see, doe look unto thee, d' you see, and thou providest their meat, d'you see, in due season, d' you see, God save the Church d' you see, the Queen, the Realme, d' you see, and peace and truth, d' you see. Amen. This old Queen Elizabeths Host, could not out of the rode in his alter-Grace, but before he had done, no man could see for laughing, which vext my cholerick Host so much, that he swore he would not say grace, d' you see, as long as he liv'd for this, d' you see, and do you heare, d' you see, if I doe not make it good that I have sworne, let me never look man in the Face, d' you see, or let me drinke water, d' you see, till my dying day, d' you see, that a man must be laugh'd at for his good will, d' you see, I cry God mer [...]y d' you see, I did not say grace but in this pinch, d' you see, this forty yeares d' you see.

See now what I said quoth Sancho, that you should have [...]pt account. By Jove the tale is ended.] This tale is lost, just as the fellow lost the Eole because he could not hold it, or as Tantalus his Apples, because he could not catch 'um, or the fellow his Geese, or he that was to tell twenty, whereof himselfe was one, and ne'r reckon'd that; or it ends just as his tale began, who being to relate some story to Vespasian (an Emperor of the Ill-favo [...]r [...]d Face) standing long still, was commanded by a Gentleman to beginne, But he excus'd it and said, he would stay till his excellency came off from the stoole, [Page] which he guess'd by his face, his businesse at present, the Emp [...]ror could not change his face, and the Historian was forc'd to change the room. So our story ends very wittily abruptly, and Torralva is on one side of the stream, and the Goate-herd on the other; as the Scotch-man and his wife, who were more unhappily sever'd by a like accident; for Iany and her good Lowne had went, and they went untill they came to a Bury, which was at that time overflown with water, there Iany and Iocky stood gaping eane at ather untill a Traveller passing that way, profer'd the courtesie of a waft successively to them both; the Scotch-man bless'd him with bath his hands, and in gewd Faith (Sr) let Iany gang first, and I will stay your return; so up went Iany, who was very thankfull, more then became her, for upon easy solicitation, she yeelded mutuall carriage to the Gentleman on the other side. Iocky beholding these strange sights, roar'd out, why Iany? what an Alaboure an you at? wha werks this Ianny: Ways me, O for a dry Burg. For want whereof, as of the Don's not accounting, the Tale is ended.

What noise is that Sancho?]

Haec oracula naribus exploranda.

This is a very pretty praevious adventure, to the encounter of the sound, in which, two of the Don's best senses were shrewdly put to't, but this of Sancho's was the hotter service, and came with load and load, fresh and fresh, but never sweet. It was strange, that Sancho (but he had only Wallet-invention) did not tell him, that it was a Trumpet sent from Tantablins Castle, where the Reverentiall Lady Merdina, and many more of her traine, which they call the Voluntary Tenants, were imprisoned, during the Gyants pleasure. Which Ladies of the most excellent delight and ease, he alwaies suffered to take Aire only at his Port Esquilin, which was as loathsome as a Common-shore. Some of these gallant Spirits have been confined all their life times, untill their dissolution; others, weary of detention, have broken Prison, and flew in the very Noses of them they next met, and changing their names, but not their conditions, passe for the Rowsers, the Tearers, the Ratlers, the Quaverers, the VVhizzers, the Fuzzers, the Squeekers; according to the severall eruptions of the Winds, out of Aeolus his den, which is the grand Colon or hole of those imprisoned Spirits. Harke, they are comming,

Vnà Eurus que Notus que ruunt, Creberque procellis,

Affricus, & vastos volvunt ad littora Fluctus,

Qua data porta ruunt, & terras turbine perftant.

Which in plaine English read you thus,

Supposing Sancho Aeolus:

And with both hands his belly pressing,

Blow winds saith he, upon my blessing;

VVhen that the Port-hole opes, or his back door,

Out goe the Winds, East East, Nore and by Nore.

These fly about, and like the Bowdy wind,

(Sweet breath'd or no) kisse all they meet or find;

There is no guard against 'um, though you compasse

Your Nose, they have priviledge (as the Trump has)

[Page] To goe about: but when the Tempest's laid,

Then gentle showers fall, where those bustlers plaid.

So Sancho wind-eas'd of his rumbling guts,

Discharges softest Lees, from his bare buts.

I prethee friend Sancho, retire two or three steps back, and henceforth have more care of my person.] It was strange the Don would make a businesse of it, when as Lords and Ladies doe the same, and he having admitted his Squire into such familiarity, there could be no greater expression of Sancho's acceptance, and haile-fellowship, then that

Coram te pedere Sancho solet.

This Favour Don doe not deny,

Let him (that he fly not) let fly.

But the thing is justifiable by nature, and there is a book wrote by Grobiaus and Grobiana, (who are the Patron and Patronesse of these deportments) wherein the Scholars are authoriz'd to the venting, disburthening at any place or time (be it Dinner, Sermon, Prayers, or any other while whatsoever) of that flatulent spirit, which is troublesome, or desirous to be disposessed. Besides that, the Emperor Claudius Enacted a Law for the common use of liberty at Meals, and amongst other Histories you might heare one anothers ta'les go: M [...]re incitements to this sport you may read in Fartarethis de arte Ca-candi, which is very wel worth that for which it was made: it cannot be then wast paper, being most properly imploi'd; but if for a more legall justification you suspend these (which so suspended, smother'd, or stifled) prove lactium Tormina, subligaculorum discrimina, take the Text for it, Lege de egestis, Podice grave onerato, Tit: Nose Autem vel siquis intervenerit.

Turning back againe to Sancho, to bid him farewell, he commanded him to stay for him three dayes at the longest, &c.] Aurora displaied her selfe, after this Wedding, (Sancho's I mean) was ended, which sort of solemnities are most commonly in the night, and the Don is very unfortunately among a company of Chesnut Trees, (for Sanch'os fruits were not so sweet) through which the adventure of the Sound came so fresh againe to the Eare which was next, that without heed given to what Sancho had said, or considering aright, the omens and presagings of his Augurhole; a few words being spoken to Sancho, snobbing at his Insensiblenesse and undauntednesse, the Don resolv'd to take the Sound, leaving behind him if he had miscarried, only this copy of his countenance for Dulcinea, and these few L [...]gacies for Sancho Panca.

After my three dayes absence, (so long stay,

So long may last this sound and bouncing fray)

Returne, and tell Dulcinea, that her Don

Had blowes enough, before he now went on;

Blowes to that number, and of such high grace,

As dubb'd him Knight of the Illfavour'd face.

Tell her beside, what did befall my jawes,

My chops are fallen, and my wide mouths god saws,

(My teeth I mean are beaten out) that if

I liv'd, spoon-meat bad been my chiefe relief:

[Page] What on my sides is seen, tell; how my eares,

(Not fully two, more lugg'd then any Swine or Beares,)

Continuall Catadupes do stound: But I

Will either still this sound, or by sound dye.

Then taking Sancho by the Fist;

My Testament begins thus, Amen: Ego,

In as good sences, and as rich as Dego,

Bequeath my body to a plat of ground,

To be interr'd without or words or sound,

(Musick or prayers,) kill'd by a sound; my tomb [...],

In scorne of sounds, shall only hold out mumm.

Then look behinde an antient painted cloth,

Cover'd and hid from sight, by fly and moth;

There read, what lands I meant to conquer, there

Are all the Castles in a Register;

And at the end of that victorious List,

Thy Islands nam'd; 'tis so, I mary ist:

My goods 'twixt Dul: and thee divide, pray prise 'um,

Let none the Inventary boldly gaze on,

Or buy, before that you have made election,

It is my love to thee, to her affection.

Dulcinea is my sole Executrix,

The seale is my nailes Thumb, the Indorsement Quix.

When DON QUIXOT saw what was done, he waxed all ashamed and mute, and Sancho's Cheeks were swolne with laughter, and the Don also laugh'd a little himselfe.] ‘Quantâ despe decidi!’ Is our adventure prov'd a Fulling-Mill? are our Silver staves turn'd to Iron Maces? and our Gyants (earth-bred indeed) but of Fullers earth? Certainly by the sound, something of the employment wrought upon Sancho, which scowr'd him so; and yet if either of the two, Sancho should have been first in this Encounter, for it was necessary for him after he had foul'd his Breeches. Our Tragedy is chang'd into pure Comedie, and instead of a Prize, we are like to have a jiggo of two principall Clownes, each gibing the other, they are now at the Ti-hee, and without tickling, laugh till their sides ake, as if they were under correction of the Maces, Sancho hath the better in this grinning Prize, and so long they interchangeably kept it up, that in the Spanish Tone and Accent you may sing, ‘Per multos risos poteros cognoscere stultos.’

The Don was enraged, but chiefly, hearing him say in gibing manner, I was borne by the disposition of Angels.] The slave Sancho doth supra-parasite it, turnes mime Satyr, Sarcast, Hyperaspist, Quixo-mastix, and from the Don's own mouth, hath a Mockabere for him;

I am the man by Providence design'd,

To change the Iron age to Gold refin'd,

Which without Alchymie, or loads of Coales,

Or whites of Egs, or Spirits, (aliàs soules)

This Arme shall Cohobate, all matters mightie

Reserved are for me, come all, i'l fight yee,

[Page] All upon one at once; Monsters where be yee?

I'm Hercules, club too, Ti-hee, wi-hee.

The Don lifted the end of his Launce, and gave him two such blowes on the back.] ‘Laesa patientia fit furor.’ This contempt was so high, that in all the books of Errantry, I meet not any Relation to match it withall. No Squire ever took that liberty which Sancho did, to deride his Knight to the face, and by a looser carriage to affront him to the nose; but nothing was so distastefull at present, as the unmannerly, and reproachfull wide opening of his mouth, whereby the Squire did manifest to the world, that he had a better set of Teeth then his Lord: so that the abuse being triple to his face in generall, and his nose and teeth in particular, the punishment should have been answerable, and hee should have basted him from head to taile. Now it is a great Dispute amongst Martiall men, whether this Launce. Bastinado (for it cannot be called an Encounter) did dis-Squire Sancho, that is, Cashiere him. In the truth of the state, I doe believe it did; but by the consequence of the story, finding his Repentance so suddaine, and his submission so exemplary, he may passe in Errantry for a Squire Reformado.

But you may be sure that I will not once more unfold my lips to jest at your doings.] The Spaniel! the Spaniel! What a deale of love and service a good whip and a Bell procure? The Orders and Rules of Errant-Squires are not here related, though in the secrets of the Manchega [...] Registrie at this day they are to be found. What Distances, Equipage, what Approaches, Smiles, Shrugs, Habits, are sutable with them, and requirable from them! How qualified he ought to be that enters himselfe Squire to a Knight-Errant; and what Services (I mean of Chivalry) hee must perform for his Triall; what years he must accomplish before he can be capable of the Government of any Island; or have the priviledge to ride all Rodes pennilesse, without pay for Mans-meat, or Horse-meat; at what time of his Age he may take leave of the Knight he doth serve, and set up for himselfe: And after such Resolution, within what time he is to assigne himselfe a Lady, under whose protection he doth undertake his Adventures, and unto whom all his successes (as the Tutelary power over him) are to be attributed. To these were many more very considerable Instructions, besides Negative Precepts shewing what he should not doe: As not eat, or drinke, unlesse occasion were offer'd; not lie in bed, unlesse in place proper; not be familiar with their Dons, unlesse upon penalty of discharging, or unavoidable necessity; not speake, report, or betray the ill successe of any Adventure on his Lords side, but stand to justifie the contrary, though his Legs would hardly give him leave; not grumble at want, not look for Wages, cast-Apparrell, or a fresh Horse: And upon these conditions Affirmative, and Negative, any man may enter himselfe into this Honourable Imployment; from which Heaven preserve all men th [...] are in their right wits.

[Page]

CHAP. VII.

For want of drinke, and clearing of the Eyes,

The Don is throwne into an enterprize;

Wherein he gets the prize, it would amaze one

To see him now Top-gallant in a Bason.

O for an Ewre too, to compleat the grace!

And wash him Knight of the Well-favour'd Face!

But 'twas impossible, for in that fall,

The Barber perish'd with his washing-ball.

What will wash off this staine! when it is read,

That which should be at's Chin, is o're his Head:

Ill-favour'd now for ever! for those shops

That mend the Face, will ne'r admit thy chops:

No hopes that e're thy jawes shall be recruited,

Sancho will be the Trencher-Squire reputed.

How canst thou thinke for ever to be better,

When thou hast wrong'd Tooth-drawer, and Tooth-setter?

See what strong fancy can! it flies so high-now,

That Cut-beard is suppos'd the great Mum-bry-no;

And the Brasse Bason which he wash'd foule Beards-in,

The Helmet is that Giant grand appeard-in.

Thus rides our Don, to all the world a laughter,

And fooles it on, unto the end oth' Chapter.

TEXT.

ANswered Sancho, I see nothing but a man on a gray Asse like mine owne, and brings on his head somewhat that shines.] Sancho had no Heroicall and Erranticall eyes: His Diamond was of no spirituours and sparkling Water; but dull, compos'd of thick pudly stuffe, which did obscure and debase the objects hee lookt upon: The Opacous part was too large, whereas the Don's was Ictericall, as if he had descended of the house of the Flavii, or that his Nurse had mix'd all his milke with Saffron, all was Gold or Lions that he saw; an eye for an Alchimist, a Sublimating, Transmuting, and Cohobating eye, a Cuckolds eye, (which is a Cornu-copious eye) and renders all flesh, and especially his own, like the fat of Rams, yellow, because he is Aries on the Head.

This Barber serv'd two Villages, &c.] This transient Face-mender would in time have made a good Knight-Errant; he was for the Tournament, and could hit a haire, a man inur'd to Martiall Instruments, which if he had but spirit enough to have drawne, the very sight of his Tweezers would have put the Don to the Roares; or if he had hang'd his Collar of Teeth about his neck, (as they use to be at his Sho [...]-window) the Don had took him sans question, for the Giant of the Cheek, and made what haste from him he could to have preserved the remainder of his life-sustainers. But sure the dull Rogue, shav'd with a Pumice-stone, and clipp'd with a pair of hedgesheers, [Page] and wash'd with Pigge-dung, and though by the custome of Spaine he might ride on Asse-backe to his Customers, yet it seemes by his flight, that his agility lay rather in his Toes then his Fingers. Our youths of that Profession, doe not look as they were under the Influencies of Aquarius, but the nimble Mercurie, who hath so spiritiz'd their whole Oeconomie, that they are Quick-silver to the fingers ends; you would sweare, that upon the swiftnesse of their Motions, their hands were the primum Movens, and ultimum Moriens of their whole body: Nor are the rest of their parts lesse active, their Tongues are as fluent as their Fingers, and (except in some sense of the word) seldome lye still. Their shops are the forges of Invention, the Magazines of all Newes, more frequented then a Bake-house, or a Booke-sellers stall; All the Mongers of tha [...] kinde come thither for matter and Inspiration, (both the Scrubbado affording it, when Barlerino himselfe is dry) after such an effectuall excitation of the ingenious Atomes of the Pericranium, the spirits of the Braine by a kinde Contagion stirre, and then the nimble Factories of the Fancie move all their subtile Engines of device, and presently (like Minerva out of loves) issues all those Diurnall-births, which in severall Mercuries fill the Piatza, and are the Gazzets for the whole world. Besides these necessary Administrations, rare are the Quedrums of many of the houses of the Ba [...]rberino's; like A-bell Drugger, you shall have one of them without a Rebus to his signe, which is as attractive as his Wife, or the adjacent pot of Ale, or his Plaister-box (if he be a Chyron too) or if not, as his Tweezer. These Rebuses are Gingles, or English Hieroglyphicks; for anciently the Aegyptians (of Nations that used no Barbers as well as the Moores) were the first that conveyed knowledge or wit under such Representations, viz. He hath a long Pole elevated, and at the end of it a Labell, wherein is in a faire Text-hand written this word, Money. Now the Pole signifies it self, which joyned to the written word, make Pole-Money: there's the Rebus, that Cutbert is no body without Pole-Money: The Motions in his Paper-Lanthorne are not to be passed by as the smallest part of the Rarities of his house; then the Magnetick vertue of his Citterne, Gytterne, and Kit, which are the constant preservers of the agility of his hand, which he loves because they have heads to 'um; Next to these, tagging of Points and Ribbands, which in a vacation of Customers, if his Boyes be quick at it, and the Fashion as it is, will serve their Master in Ale, and their Mistresse in cold Caudle, and themselves in Black-Puddings, per [...]eptimanam very well, (Sunday excluded as to the Work) not to the profits aforesaid.

The Barber rising up againe as light as a Deere, runne away so swiftly through the plaine, as the winde could scarce over-take him.] Whether throughout, as a Deere Cap-a-pe, is a question: for the Barbarino's of Spaine are great Lyers out, their Custome calling them abroad; and that occasion given, their she-Gitternes also, who are much plaid upon in their absence: which is the occasion commonly of the increase of a Monster more in the Paper-Lanthorne at their returne. I doe believe amongst the many Fables at his Shop, this story was never told without such additions as made for his owne Credit, the losse of the Bason and the Asse being repaireable from the Countrey. Against the next journey he is resolved to ride [Page] better provided, and with a more appointed Helmet, upon a Brute of better Service, and with his owne Pole for a Launce, Bason for a Target, he would take the Field againe, where, Tam Morte quam Mercurio, the Don should deerely finde, and to his cost too, (for Barberino intended also to assault him with the subtlle Engine of a W [...]it) that if the Pole fail'd, the Catch-pole should not; if his Target fail'd, wherein he us'd to catch by the beard, that by which he caught by the Backe should not: But if all these miscarrled, this Machavillian at a stratagem, never went without a small Box of Powder, or dryed Meale, and his Puffings, which if he could but advance to the Dons eyes, hee doubted not to spoile him for all Adventures, and to punish him in [...]s kinde for that of the Winde-mill, and regaine his Bason, leaving the Vnmambryne-helmeted Don in as confounded a case, as the Mayor of Quinboro [...]ugh after the Encounter with PICKPOCKETO of Nov. Hispaniola, or Nov. Anglia, which you please: But if Fortune denyed Martiall Revenge, then Chance might bring this Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face after his Victories to Toboso, 'to which Towne he must needs passe through the Village where Cutbert liv'd; and for his Face let him alone to remember it; and for a Base-one, what the Pole and the Powder could not effect, the Suds of his Landred Face should doe; which beside the intollerable smart of his eyes, which would call his hands to their present helpe, his skilfull Boyes should ransack his Fobs, and make him thence better satisfaction then the Masters of the Holy Brother-hood: untill some such time Barberino leaves him, his Asse, his Bason, and his Patient, who by this time is dead of a Pleurisiè, for want of the Barber, who touch [...] with his owne proper griefe, is got to his Wife for a Remedie against the Palpitation of the Hurt, got by the violent motion of his Heeles.

That Pagan which lost it was discreet, and did imitate the Castor.] The story of the Castor un-polluxing himselfe is very well applyed: In the like danger of persons not much unlike, the like policy was us'd before. A counterfeit Cripple, and a reall Beare, which having broke loose from the Keepers, took directly upon a Passe, where this dissembling Begger plyed; who seeing the Beare make up towards the place, whence he could not upon his Crutches, without apparent attachment escape by the help of suddaine wit; therefore he cut the ligaments of his wooden supporters, and having recovered the use of his naturall legs, though he came thither Cripled, he ranne away straight. The Metaphor here was onely transversed from Taile to Head: Why might not the Barber throw away his Bason, which was his Cap-case, to save his Head-peece, as well as the Castor his Ball-case, to save the rest of the Taile-piece? Herculè me Castor might he, especially when Don Quix-hercules was so near his Civit-Box.

O quantum in subitis Casibus ingenium!

In the meane time I will weare this Helmet which thou callest a Bason, as I may:] What an invincible Coxcombe was this Sancho, to look for a Beaver with the Bason, when in the very example before excellently hinted by the Don, the Castor, which is the Bever, bites away the Bason to save the Bever. So here the Barber having a Cast-Bever, or a Castor of [Page] Don Iohns of Mendozas, to save it from the Raine, put on the Bason; but the putting on so hard for the Bason, he put off his Bason to keep on his old Bever: Upon the Inhasonation of the Don, it was to be wondred which was the greater Sarazen, he on whose head it was, or from whose head it was supposed to fall, Man-barbe-ryno: It could not worse become our Don surely then, when, for want of other accountrements at a Play, Mars (the god of VVarre forsooth) was faine to act in a close-stoole pan, which had it been properly applyed, would have served for his Stoole of Repentance, after the violation of his Brother D [...]ities sheets.

And as in case of doubt, untill I am better inform'd, I say that thou exchange if thy need be extream.] A Councell of VVarre is call'd, to know whether they shall admit the Trojan Asse into their wooden Society; Cry you mercy, it is a Grecian Asse, for it was a Grey. The Don being President of the Councell, which consisted onely of the Advocate-Sancho, and himself, (not Judge-Advocate I meane) but one who was alwayes a Pleader for some illegall prize or other: the Don herein, (though to his friend and Brother Sancho) denyed to doe an act of injustice, or derogation from the Honour of Knight-Errantry; He Knight-Errant, if he steale in propria persona, is Uncalendred for ever, and his name expung'd the Ephemerides of King Arthurs Knights. But change is no robbery, so that be done likewise by the Squire, not the Knight: The Capucines boy takes money, not his Holy Master; but in case of irresistible necessity, as when Iugurth's Horse, A [...]xanders Elephant, Cyrus his Dromedary were shot under 'um; or (for I thinke their time was before Monks, and so consequently before the Invention of Guns and Gun-powder) when these great Heroes Brutes were slaine, it was lawfull to take the next they could get. Not did Alexander take it for a disparagement to ride upon a Camell, when Elephantus was gone; or if he, or any of the rest had, Lege Nationum, they must have gone on foot, which is incompetent with a Knight-Errant, unlesse with his Horse in hand, or rather in his Squires. And as for the qualification in the Question, (but of extream need) the extreame hardnesse that Sancho was put to, might be very well judged by the obduration of his Posteriors, which were almost petrified by continuall hardnings upon his Asses bare backe; for he rode podice nudo, ever since the losse of his Wallet, untill the purchase of the Cassock, where the Divinity Buttons did oft disease those of the Flesh. Wherefore it was decreed and ratified in a full Court, of one Judge, one Asse-sessor, two Asses, and a Stallion, that Sancho should have all the Bona Mobilia (praeter ipsum Corpus) of the Prize-Asse taken in lawfull fight: and those he should instantly translate upon the back of his owne Asse, which made proud by these new Trappings, prickt up his eares above Rosinantes, or he that was above Rosinante.

Sancho thou saist not ill, quoth Don Quixot.] These were Sancho's nuts after a full Meale, to bring his Knight into a fresh Frenzy, which he could doe with as much ease as an Ape-carrier with his eye makes the vaulting Creature come aloft, or at the signe of Terrid in Aldo. Name but an Emperor, a King, a Queene, a Lady, a Giant, a Castle, a Monster, and he was presently on fire, Orlando Furioso, Hercules Furens, Ieronymo: upon the very mention, his braines are got beyond the Sophy of Persia, unto a farre [Page] remote Kingdome, where the King of that Kingdome was rescued by that Knight, that was in love with that Daughter, that was heire to that King, that was opprest by that Gyant, that lov'd that Daughter, that hated that Giant, that was slaine by that Knight, that had forgot that Lady, that liv'd at Toboso, that was called Dulcinea, that had a Squire that was unknowne to that Lady; but by that name of Sancho Pancha, that serv'd that Knight, that was of the Ill-favour'd Face, that promised that Squire, that Government of that Island, that is not in this Book, but in that which is the next.

The Princesse shall admit me for her Lord and Spouse, although she knew me to be the Sonne of a Water-Bearer.] I did alwayes imagine that from such a Fountaine-head this streame of Knight-Errantry did derive it selfe; Prince Tancred was a great Prince, and like those Roman Emperors carried upon mens shoulders, which was the first piece of state in the world, and at this day is kept up by the French Madams in their Sedans. From Prince Tanacred, or Tankard, his Flegmatick race was drawn by wooden or leaden Pipes to the Mancha, where is yet to be seene the Scheme of his Lunatick Genealogie, who as the Knight, were by Nativity, as well as Acquisition, very Bedlamish; the King his Father-in-law so much spoken of, calls to mind a Gentleman, who was the By-blow of a Lord, by whose name the Base sonne us'd to honour himselfe in all companies, at Meales, Cards, Bowles, Races, where ever and anon he was at his—The Lord his Father allow'd him so much for this, for that Recreation, and the Lord his Father kept the best Hawkes, Horses, Dogs, House, &c. in all that County; and thus he continued his shameless repetition, untill another Gentleman vext at his ambitious, but worthily to have beene concealed, Recitals, said, Sir, here is much talke of the Lord your Father, but the Devill a word of the Whore your Mother; which struck the Lordling into so deep a Melancholly (for he had not the spirit of Barnes of that Extraction) and such a long silence, as if Sweet-lips his best hound had miscarried, or Pepper-corne his Race-horse had got a splint.

Then there is no other to be done, but steale her away, and carry her to some other place.] This Daughter-catching is onely pardonable in Knight-Errants; for in all other places, Plagiaries (that is, Stealers of Children, whether of the back or braine) were accounted the greatest Robbers, and therefore ought to have the greatest punishments. A sort of these Theeves are now redivivous, (the Reliquiae I believe of Knight-Errantry) who goe by the name of Spirits: These, by Wiles, Bribes, and Tricks, decoy silly Children on Ship-board, where when they once have them, they are clap [...] (as the simple Rat-catcher in the same case was upon Lenoyrs account) under Decks, and thus entrapped, part with Countrey, Friends, and Fortunes, which they never re-salute, no nor their spirituall Fathers, who deserve the Gallowes more than any Rogues that suffer. But for a Lady to be stolne away, and such a Lady, that was thought a fit match for a Giant, is such a Device, that none but a Knight-Errant could dreame of. It is all odds, the Story is not right here, Cyd Hametes hic non tenetur. The Lady of such proportion stole away the Knight rather; for it cannot be imagined otherwise, that her Discretion or Love should be so little, as to bring her Knight in danger of a Rape or Felony, when a gallant spirit would confesse [Page] the truth, and say the businesse was her own plotting, her owne doing, and undoing, and that howsoever she dissembles the businesse of riding now behinde, that was not the thing she aim'd at.

I would not authorize my Litado? Dictado said the Don, or Dignity.

Nobilitas sola est atque uni [...] a [...]irtus.

The Fountaine of Honour cannot give deserts, though he give Titles, though commonly where the Deserts are not, the Honours are not given, but bought and sold, which is the rise of so much gallant Nobility and Gentry in the Spanish Kingdomes, where is Purchase-money enough: An Accipiamus Pecuniam, & Dimittamus Asinum, being a current Maxime in all Countreys, where an importunate rich Coxcombe is gratified for his Token which never failes. But Sancho after his Coblers Dream of the Earle, (like those whose manners are not mended with their Titles, being Splendidiora sterquilinia, or Apes in a new sure) sinks himself into the conceit of his first original, which was Beadle unto some Fraternity of Porters, wherein (notwithstanding his airie promises of the Island) the Provostship of the Company would gladly content him and his Moll, if for one yeare she might take place of the Sister-hood of her fellow-Porters wives. Then after the dayes of his Mastership expired, he would returne to his Ale and Tost, the Frock and Badge, and off goes Gowne, and on goes shouldersavers, welcome halfe a hundred, and God rest his soule that built the Pillars for the Rest of Porters Bodies.

Nam genus & proavos & quae non fecimus ipsi,

Vix ea nostra voco.

What if my Ancienters were Iohn of Cumber,

If I no worth have, I'm but of the number.

What more is to be done then to take a Barber, &c.] I thinke I must recant; and conclude Sancho will make a right sparke: VVhat Noble Knight-Errant, or Lord of a Purchas'd Title can doe more then keep his out-landish Barber, his Monsieur, his Tailor, his Cook, his rider of his great Horse, and the great jade himselfe rides, all exotick; snuffing at any services of his owne Countrey; their Meats, Drinks, Fashions are course, fulsome, nasty, without a forraine Hogow. Their Sutes, rather then they should be without a Fangle, must be done with a Why-hoo, which is a Chimericall Mode lately found out; A Fashion to be whistled into a Tailors head without Butts or Patternes.

Ride on, ride on, great pair, unto Fools Harbour,

Both high in thought, with Bason, and with Barber.

[Page]

CHAP. VIII.

Room, room for fresh Adventures, and new Sallies,

Thus farre in Land-work, now Ware for the Gallies;

For Gally-slaves, who chain'd in loving Links,

(Their hands were never honester methinks)

The Knight of the Ill-Face his Brother-Faces,

(For they were ill-lookt all) from their doom'd places,

The Oare and Mines, will rescue; for he allowes

No force on free-born soules, no Chaines, no Gallowes;

An act of desperate Valour, and Sub paena

Of death, but that he fled unto Morena,

(Once taking Sancho's counsell) a high Mountaine,

Where they remaine, their Histories recounting:

Recounting more the dangerous reward,

(Then th' Act it selfe) of forcing of the Guard,

The Convoy of the Slaves, which bold arresting,

Was treason 'gainst the King, with whom's no jesting.

But that which sticks i'th' stomack of our Don,

Like a good Meale (if ever he get one)

Was the redeemed Slaves ingratitude,

Whom he enlarg'd and gave full latitude

Of Leg and Arme, which they uncivill Devils

Employ against the Rescuer from their evils.

Whom thinke you in this Fact was Paramount,

But that unlucky Rogue Gines Passamont?

Whom though the Gallies misse, yet for this trick

Ile warrant him a Passe-port to old Nick.

TEXT.

THen if that be so, then herein justly falls the Execution of my Function.] VVell apply'd Don, Ergo Pot-lid. No, no, a better Inference by farre; it was Argumentum ad hominem, viz. to himselfe, whose Pate itched, it was upon the mending hand, by that signe, and consequently upon the marring; Exempli gratiâ.

Every thing under force is rescuable by my Function.

All these are under a force,

Ergo, They are rescuable by my Function.

The Syllogisme is a very strong one. A Demonstration, à priore, as to the Don; as à Posteriore, to the Slaves: The Major no man durst deny, 'twas Probatio Leonina! quis ausus est quartam partem? The Minor was visible as the Nose in his Face, nay more, then the Teeth in his Mouth, and ten times more, then meat for those Teeth. The Conclusion is undenyable, per [...] seculorum: Thus by one Syllogisme in two Figures the Don hath prov'd himselfe into an Adventure very Logically, his Mood being in Barbara, as to the matter of the Rescue, and in Bocardo, as to the issue; à quo, as [Page] to the Slaves, ad quem, as to himselfe and Sancho; who could never perswade him to any prudentiall forbearing of Criminall Encounters; but the Don had a head (like his bad stomack) which converted all into the gross and filthy Humours of Errantick Valour; which doth rubbe up a storie (wee have not had one a great while, for want of the Barbers Currycombe) of a Priest who was sure, (let the Text be whence and what it would) to make all the Sermon against Non-Residency; which was taken notice of by all sorts of Auditors that heard him; the Priest being himself unbenefic'd, and an Ubiquetary, made bold (sede vacante) as he found room enough to pay the Non-Residentiaries, (though they were in the Mother-Churches in the affirmative) for not stopping his mouth with a Living, or with their living upon the place. Now some friends conspired to give this Itinerant a Text, whereby he should not possibly rest in his common Notes against Non-Residents; The Text was this, Abram begat Isaac; they thought they were farre enough from Priest then; and yet they were out, (for Abraham paid Tithes to Melchizedeck) but our Sir Roger took the Warning, and having Saturday nights (time enough for the Collection of his Authors, which were (as his Land was not) in Capite) for premeditation the next day he mounted, and short Prayers premis'd, the Text he named; his Auditory smiling at their owne conceits, of what an irreconcileable peece of Scripture they had proposed, and unconcatenable to his usuall subject. But beyond all expectation, and to the extreame satisfaction of those that knew the Designe: No sooner had he read,—Abram begat Isaack, but he adjoyned. A plaine Text (beloved) against Non-Residents; for, if Abram had not kept the Company of his good Woman Sara, that is, not been Resident, then Isaac had not been borne. Such kinde of wedded Fancies have many men to one sort or way, that all manner of Discourse is turn'd into the Chyle of their Customary apprehensions and applications, be it Drollery, or Seriousnesse; Like a Metaphysicall pated Disputant, who, let the Question be, An Zabarella fuit Scriptorum opt. maximus? would bring the confounded Replicant to Materia prima, by due forme of Argument; where if he caught him, Tenet occiditq▪—he would so Contund him, and extra-mund him, more then Materia Prima it self was at the Chaos: happy noise of the University Bells, who were onely able to put an end to the Matter; or give an Haec sufficiunt pro formâ.

They are men that take delight in acting and relating [...].]

Olim baec meminisse juvabit.

The soureness of the present Sauce did not take away the sense of their sometime sweet meat, even to the very last swing, and periodicall moment of life. Mischiefes will delight themselves with the memorie of those prancks they can no longer act, ‘Et retinet mores quos perdidit aetas,’ is excellently said of Claudian, concerning a superannuate Creature, who (notwithstanding that her yeares did supertede her vocation) prudently shifted her Trade into that of a Matron, which we call Prioress of a Vaulting-schoole, having a great desire to see that work goe on in others, which was ended in her selfe. It is observable, that these Gusmanillo's the night before they ascend the Execution Cart, send for their friends of both seres, and very Pater-familiarly, advice them with great Caution, how they come [Page] to the like unfortunate ends; that is, by being too lavish of their Tongues, too much given to Drinke, which betrayes secrets; too much loving a Whore, which is a revealer of their stealthes, but not their own; too much addiction to Gaming, which doth waste the small stock their industrious pilfering hath got together, and enforceth them upon fresh Designes, and suddaine, but dangerous Recruits; also hankering after Repentance, and hopes of Pardon, which is alwayes of dangerous consequence, and either alters the whole course of ones owne life, or else the latter, (being base Peachery) brings anothers life to a Halter. Wherefore very solemnly they conjure their friends to doe nothing simply, rashly, or unadvisedly, that should conduce to such Casualties as these; but at all times to steale with great care and prudence; to wench soberly, and undiscover'd; to sweare their Hosts once a Moneth to secrecie, and once a yeare at least to bring 'um into personall Action; and for their Landladies, to Night-worke them into silence, that by the mutuall breach of the 7th Commandement they may be true to the Infringers of the 8th; and for the pleasing wrong done to their Husbands, connive at the robbery done to their Neighbours. These Counsels given with some Deprecations to their Children, (if they have any) wishing them the blessing of their labour, their fingers ends upon them; and encouraging them in the way wherein their fore-fathers were bred, they entaile their Professions upon their issue, which is never cut off but with their lives. In that penultimate night is the right farewell to the VVorld, the sense of Domus, or Spelunca Latronum, truely spoken, the next dayes Pageantry, old Goodcoale, the Cart, the Sheriffs, the Halberts, the Psalme, the Confession, signifie nothing, and are onely pro formâ, doing pro more, as the Custome is, but in truth they are all of the fellowes minde, who is of the Turks, that there is a Fate and Destiny, which is as impossible to escape, as the meanes that brings to it. So that if Hinde must be hang'd, he had good reason to see it should not be for nothing.

He answered that his offence was only being in love.]

Injectus est in vincula, nè metue nuptiarum, saith Lipsius, of one caught in a Love knot, or wedding couples.

But this Neophyte was enamor'd with a basket of linnen, it may be a youth in a basket, so left ab incunabilis, which was all he had to the charity of the Parish, he did as he was inclin'd by the basket stars, that shone at his nativity, which was the Talismon of his whole life. Just as a Taylor for want of work, turn'd into his Trade, but out of his name, a Fur, but not manifestus, came to an Inne, where all usage was neat and handsome, and about bed-time, the Shee-Chamberlaine left him, hee desiring the use of the Candle longer, by which very succinctly, he made him a good shirt of one of the holland sheets in the bed, having dispatch'd the threds into the fire, they not being worth a Limbus in his Hell. But in the Morning he is very much displeas'd with his lodging, (though he lay better then he had done in a month before, with a good shirt on) for that he had but one sheet, the wench swore she thought she brought two, and none ever imagining the conversion of the linnen, he came cleanly off, though he came lowsily on, being better able to shift ever after; such a piece of Love a blade of Hiemont in Cambro Britannia shew'd to a piece of wandring horse-flesh, wherewith he was as much enamour' [...], (as Europa of her [Page] Bull) for in want of a bridle (and a halter he could not endure) he was enforc'd to embrace the Brute about the neck, and with all speed make to the rode, but the owner being in some grounds not farre off, and espying the cheat, made after him, undiscovered, and being very well hors'd overtooke this ranke rider, though the spurs of his affections carried him very furiously & swift away, and requiring of him the reason of his speed, his Countryman sware, Sr, are you in a good houre, the Master of this wild jade? in a good houre, I am replyed the other, (for halfe an houre later, I believe had altered the case. (In troth Country-man (said the thiefe,) it is the joy of my heart, that you have thus happily overtaken me, for this head-strong jade else might very well have runne away with me; the Gentleman was very well pleas'd with his horse and his jest, and unwilling to horse him againe, dismiss'd him under the penaltie of petty larceny, when, for want of ready money, they sco [...]'d upon his back, the postage.

Here it is quite contrary, he that sings once, and weeps all his life after, he is called a Canary Bird.] This fellow is of the despis'd order of the Confessours, those I meane of our Tyburn Confessours, to whom, confesse and be hang'd are convertible; for if you 'fesse you're hang'd, and your hang'd is confess. But the Parot is laugh'd and abus'd by them all, Facillimum est tacere, he is fit to be throtled that cannot shut's mouth. Could he not say, Not guilty my Lord, but upon the first question undo himselfe, and comrades, and occasionally deprives the World of a succession of Knight-Errants, who were destin'd relievers of Ladies, (Market-women returning home laden) rescuers of inthralled Creatures, (poor sensible Animals lock'd and fetter'd) surprizers of Castles, (such as every mans house is) setters free of the imprisoned Queen (Regina Pecunia, let her confinement be to Iron Chest, or Castle under ground;) chasers and subduers of Monsters, (all honest men travelling upon their occasions;) Disinchanters of Negromancers, (disrobers of Gypsies, Canberry Besses, and the like Bona Robas of the times:) One confessour, one puling, snif'ling, Hen-hearted Rogue, is sometime the ruine of a set, a pack, a covie of these valiant Heroes, whom the Annals had swell'd with; but for the Interception of a few yeares, concluded in a Triangle, which was intended for the Circle.

I goe to the Lady Garrupes, for five yeares, because I wanted ten Ducats.] This was a pleasant Rogue, that rattled his Chaines, made Musick of his Fetters, and sang with his breast against the Thornes. It was pitty, that for want of a little money, a Bribe, or so, so brave a spirit should tugge at an Oare! But hang it, it was for five yeares, and what's that to the age of man, which is threescore and ten in the traine of the world. He sweetens all the miserie by making Proserpina his Lady, the Turn-keyes wife a Madona: such comforts they raise to themselves, who shaking hands, heads, and heeles at Madam Tyburija's, Cosin german to the Lady Garrupes, tell their friends that they are invited for a yeare and a day to the Lord Mayors Banqueting House, (which is all one with Apud infernos coenabimus:) others, in other places, vaile and couch it, under riding the wooden Horse, covering Bagwells Mare, dining under the Hawthorne tree, turning Mahomets, and without a Load-stone residing betwixt Heaven and Earth: And while they live in the like Metaphors (for the other are Allegories and continue for [Page] ever) they name their Fetters Love-knots, their Ropes Fancies, (which for the honour of their Ladies they will weare to the death) their Goales their Castles, their Carts their Chariots, in which they ride in Triumph from Metropolis to Tripletris: And a Father these all have, Derich, or his successor, and the Mother of the grand Family, Maria Sciss-Marsupia, who is seldome troubled at the losse of any of them, having many, and to spare, and fearing no want of succession, because there are so many lineally descended one from another.

Don Quixot went to the fourth, who was a man of venerable person, with a long white Beard which reached to his bosome.]

Non Barba facit Philosophum.

A man may have a very goodly Beard, and yet be a Pimpe: and a man may have never a haire on his head, and be a Whoremaster; and a man may have ne'r a haire in his face, and be an Eunuch. Fronti nulla fides; Beards of all fashions are nought; and you need not so precisely keep your wife from Black-beard, Browne is as dangerous, Yellow worst, and Red worst of all.

Et de virtute locuti—

—Clunem agitant.

Cato would be drunke, and Morose together; and the old Sages, the Gray-beards, had their Lycases, Ganymeds, and pretty Cleopatras, as well as Iupiter, Caesar, or Mark Antonie. These Brokers of the Eare, Inventers of the venereall Hotacusticon, or Priapuses Whisp'ring place, are the same sort of Engineers, as our Procurers, Match-makers, Limb-comforters, Informers unto the Vice, not against it; who are walking Tickets, and moveable Papers of inclining Ladies Lodgings, where the Beauties, (like the Room next vacation) is to be let ready furnish'd. This Affaire is much manag'd by Matrons in our Clime, unlesse it be when both Parents consent in the Construpation of a Daughter; then (as my Father Ben saith) they cannot be matched.—I have a short story (Credent ne posteri!) of the truth of this last practice: Where the Mother was brib'd to the violation of her onely, and that a very handsome childe; the gravity of the Mothers person would have deterr'd an ill inclin'd Roman from the vice; but our Northern Lads are unappeasable: A round summe is propos'd, the place appointed even at her own house, in a room just over the Chamber, where this piece of Antiquity taught schoole; In [...] which the shreeks of her devirginitated Daughter came, which put her unto the most horrid shift of all, to [...]smother the noise of Lust with the Tones of a Psalm, which she & her Scholars sung aloud, and the second part too, whiles the other above sung damnable Notes to a godly Ditty. The highest practice of Impiety that ever I heard of, and perform'd many yeares before the late Reformation, but betwixt the time of the first; otherwise Hopkins and Sternhold could not have been instrumentall to a piece of Incontinency; unto the performance whereof, (like Musick in the Act) perchance Davids Penitentiall, unregarded, might be the Hymne. This story is not Father'd upon this bad Mother, but it is set downe to shew you, that Italy and Venice, Spaine and France, have more open toleration of sport; but great Purses can doe amongst us as much as ever it did at Rome; and Animae Parentum, aswell as Corpora Filiarum, are venalia. This Childe without doubt had this [Page] Originall sinne from her Parent, and from whence she learn'd this pious fraud is too long to enquire.

If that smack of Witchcraft were not in it, he merited not.] It is ordinary to impute our own Lapses (which lay in our wills sometimes to have resolved) to the power of the Devill, tempting and over-ruling us. A wench willingly seduced, and poyson'd, (as they say) was thus expostulating with her selfe post rem factam, & se infectam. What a gracelesse Quean was I? what a forgetfull hot-tail'd Carrion? Right! very right! Sure I was bewitched, there she was excentrick! Nay, without peradventure the Devill was in me! And with a high sigh, considering her early Hillock, said, Shame on me, it was the Devill Incarnate. This Confession not extorted, nor subtilly wrought out by any Examiner, but a shifting, shriving Conscience, may very well be praeambulatory to her owne Absolution, and to this scandall from our Broker of the Eare, who following the steps of his first subtile Master plyes that part which he began with, and so at last got from one Round to another. Look to your Eare-rings Ladies, strange bobs hang thereby. Although I know very well, that no Sorcery in the world can move or force the Will.] Medicated Garters, Gloves, Handkerchieffs, Heart-breakers, Ribbands, Fillits, Fancies, Pictures, nor Platonick speculation, (which, if there be any thing neare Witch-craft, or Knight-Errantry, is without Question of the surest side) finde any faith in our Don, who for this Tenet (for in other things quantum distat) may be accounted a wise man by the authority of the first Verse that ever mov'd foot in his behalfe: ‘Sapiens dominabitur Astris.’

And if it be in the power of a Knight-Errant to resist and counter-worke the Influences of the Starre [...], who are his higher Brother Planetae, and so (with the Sunnes leave) as many Monsters as ever Quixot did; which Starres more subtilly and naturally incline our tempers; and if their vertues may be rebated by a moderate Fasting, and sufficiently mortified Body, or rather as our Don's was mortar-fied. D'you thinke a few Herbes shall doe it? I dare presume, that let Medaea have gathered what Plants she pleas'd, at what time of the night she thought most effective, and with what words she pleas'd too; let them have been made into a grand Sallet, with Oyle, Sugar, Almonds, Vinegar, and the rest of the French Coques Ingredients, Quixot and Sancho should have made no more danger of it, but eate it as heartily, and with as good successe, as if Mary Gutierez had prepared against their comming home a Tansey of Clare, for the reparation of her Sancho's backe; and another of Coxcombo, for the discerebratings of his Knights head.

I goe here, because I have jested too much with two Cousin Germans of mine owne.] The Rogue lyes to the Don and his Cousins too; for he was in earnest with them, and they took it: Insomuch, that if there were but few Trees or none in Spaine, he ought to have been sent to Rome, and hang'd upon the Arbor Civilis for an example; which by these disorderly intermixtures he hath made so knotty, that it hath chang'd many a Bartolus (with rubbing his Pate to finde the right names for his Off-spring) into Baldus. It is the latter end of the Character of this slave, that he was a Stadent, a great Talker, and a very good Latinist. All these he might be; for Scientia and [Page] Mores doe not alwayes meet in the same person, though it were a very handsome Conjunction: But you finde his studeo (Mu [...] è contra) stans; and he is not so great a Talker, but as great a Doer too; and for his Latine Tongue, that could be no sinne, unlesse in that Catholike Tongue he did corrupt the Whore of Babylon.

Don Quixot ask'd who was this so loaden with Irons, and why? Because he had done more Villanies than they all.] This Rogue was at full years, in the strength of his age, a handsome fellow, (as we say of those we never doe commend but once) the rest of his Company were singular knaves, but this was Nomen multitudinis; A Book must comprehend his life, and no better pen-man then himselfe; if he could be true to any, certainly he would not cheat us in his owne Story. In the Parchments of his body (for he was for the Antique Records) much of his History was to be read, in a very high Rubrick, which upon solemne dayes was seen, and the part re-stigmatiz'd according to order: In his hand was another Impression, in his forehead another, another in his shoulder, which were severall Editions of some small Pamphleticall labours of his, which are now to be collected into one intire Volume, bound up together like the Author; and to be tyed in memory of Gines Passamont, in the Vatican, in Chaines, when the first Edition shall come forth, Correctior & non Emendatior.

Gines Passamont, or, Ginesilio of Parapilla.] This latter name of Parapilla, Gines doth abominate, the Creatures of the Rode changing names as oft as High-wayes, which they never ply above two Termes. As for example, Now he is taken and apprehended by the name of Pass [...]a-mont; at other times, and upon emergencies of occasions, Passe-a-broak, Passe-a-ditch, Passe-a-way, Passe-o-ver, Passe-a-repass; but this the best name, if with a ‘Convenit res nomini.’ One Pass-a-galley were worth a Kingdome: beside what a great adornment to the Grande Opus of his life would it be, if it might not be concluded among the Brethren of the Oare, but be spunne out to the utmost thred in the noble Enterprizes that Fate and his owne Genius had necessitated and inclined him to.

This Book was pawned in Prison for 200 Royalls, and is redeemable for so many Duckets.] You may read in this Book the abuse of Prisoners, which at first was bound for Pence, and cannot get out under paiment of Pounds; the expence of the Prison, and the Keepers Fees, and Rent-money for the liberty of the Rules, (without Rule) extending beyond the Libertie of the People even to Constantinople, where those that live under the Turk are more kindly us'd then those that live under Jewes at home, mercilesse Jaylers, and hungry Wardens, who fleece the sheep brought to their Pounds, worse then a Wolf a Lamb. But Gines after his Captivity ended, for he did Passe a Jew in slavery, never out a whole seven years together: so that he reckons his life by the Iustra of his Imprisonments, the first five of his Innocency and Infancy going for nothing; so that he hath plai'd at fives excellently well, and his Quinquatria of once every fifth year, (in the Gallies, or some place of like eminence) except before excepted, render him according to the Spanish and his own account, trigesimo aetatis, which (if he had been guilty of so many crimes in England) would have been Gregorian, which is a just Account indeed, but very killing.

[Page] The Commissarie held up his rod to strike.] Molops our insulting Officer is incens'd; the Tyranny of such Superiors is intolerable; and when the State hath taken the Will-liberty of his hands and feet from him, these will deprive him of his naturall freedome, if it were possible they would muzle his mouth; but Gines is mumm'd presently, he saw it was but a Word and a Blow, and it was better and more selfe-preservingly done to leave him to the Sarcasmes of his Book, then by a shoulder-experience to have learn [...]d how to write a literall invective against him. But see the Valour of these Brutes, not much unlike the victory of Aeneas, and a fellow-Deity to boot, upon a simple woman, (as Dido is pleased to call her selfe, though she doubled I believe with one of those Deities.)

Egregiam vero l [...]udem & spolia ampla tulist is,

Tuque puerque tuus, magnum & memorabile nomen:

Una dolo Di [...]ûm si faemina victa duorum!

Which for the honour of [...]ines, and the perpetuall stigma of such Barbarous Custodes, let it speak English thus:

What glory may be in the Victory found,

If a loose Devill beat a Prisoner bound?

It seemes to me a rigorous manner of proceeding to make slaves of them whom God and Nature hath made free.] How farre this freedome or exemption from punishment is disputable, tenable, or otherwise, hath not by any Defenders of the Liberty been yet shewne. For Don Quixot, who seemes at the instant very much to Patronize the cause of these (contra Legem Naturae) enthralled, doth at other times very highly tyrannize, and gave Sancho (his friend Sancho, Townes-borne Children, and of the better Face, of equall sufferings) but for doing the work of Nature (I meane not that of Disenteration,) but of laughing, such a blow upon his free-borne shoulders, that if he had not been a laughing-stock indeed, the blowes had confounded him: but here he is for freedome, and anon for Distance, Observance, Reverence. However the Theme was sweet, and the Rhetorick pleasing, and findes more Beleevers then experienc'd souldiers; and therefore Don Quixot's Oration was received as Caesars at the passe of Rubicon; when his speech against the insulting, covetous Faith-breaking Senate was applauded by the whole Army, and the Countries where he came, crying out, Downe with the Senate, downe with them: Long live the people of Rome, and the Liberties of the Commons: all this while crying down that Authority, and not knowing what would succeed, or whether uni Caesari multos Marios, whether Q. Elizabeths, or Maries dayes were better; which is worst to endure, Fire, or Sequestration?

Goe on the way, good Sir, and settle the Bason right on your head.] What, touch our Helmet, touch it with so high indignity as to call it a Bason! 'Tis a Defiance which presently amounted to a Tournament; a Tournament, to an Over-turne, that to a Dismount, which happened upon the first Barriers, where low lies the Commi [...]arie, and Don Quixot rides like Iupiter liberator, guilty of a Rescue, and Sancho Pa [...]ca, (who all this time through feare of the Guard, Lawlesse and Witlesse) suspecting Victory, that she would play the Jade, and not keep the same side still, was auxiliary to the slaves, and the fettery Hand-Cuffs of Gines Passamont, and all his Iron-work lopp'd off, and the Cord of Amity and Friendship of his Fellowes broken, they [Page] all (as now in Duty they stood loose) took part with their Rescuer, or Restitutor Qnixot, and so pelted the guard, that they had very hard pay for their Convoy, and glad to retreat, they left the Prisoners to Don Quixot, Master of the Field, and Lord of Six, which he counted a Sexcenturio: And imagining himselfe Generalissimo, he thus makes his Oration to his new-form'd Army.

Don Quixot's Oration to the Slaves Redeemed.

Quirites (Gentilemen Souldiers all)

And fellow Souldiers too, (such I you call,

Such is your Generals meeknesse,) Free-borne Blades,

And made Free-Blades by Me, from hungry Trades,

Tugging at Oares, or digging in the Mines

For wealth and Oare, (he ne'r enjoyes that findes)

Made capable to feed your selves, not eat

The pittances of Madam Garrupes meat,

Dry'd Eeles, and th' Eeles skins for digestion,

Poore Iohn, and what that is 's a question;

Stock-fish, and Haberdine, and splitted Hakes,

Dry'd Sprats, Cockles, Dog-fish, and Sun-dry'd Cakes.

What is that thing your Emperor shall aske?

What is it that you'll think too great a taske?

Methinks I heare Gines Passamont require,

Where my commands will be? through Water, Fire,

Or over Mountains, or down steepy Rocks?

Or if againe we shall binde on these Locks,

From whence your power hath newly loos'd us; wa

Shall be more proud of such Captivity,

Then any freedome of our owne: 'Tis so;

Once more then on your Necks these Laces throw,

Once more in Chains, but never after this;

You must be Pilgrims to my Queen of blisse,

Dulcinea of Toboso, Lady bright,

Bright as the Stars, black-mantled all in night:

Her, and Toboso's Pallace having found,

Humble your selves, and click your Chains to th' ground.

Tell her you are Don Quixots Freed-men, tell

That he hath ransom'd you from death and Holl,

From Furies, and things worse tormentative,

Devills incarnate; that you are alive,

It is the Guerdon of his Armes and Lance

Which Masters all, when it doth once advance.

Say you besides, with a most signall grace,

Thus spake the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face,

And kissing thrice the ground, rise from the place.

[Page] Gines Passamont answered for all the rest, saying [...]]

Gines Passamont's Reply to his Emperour.

Then Passamont i'th' name of all the rest,

Bowing his body, as became him best,

(Honour'd Releaser said,) Command what is

Fecible, and not impossibilities.

How canwe all in such procession go,

The Holy Brothers ranging to and fro;

And all wayes laid to take us for th' escape,

And Hues and Cries in every Village gape?

Not that I Lightning, or fell Thunder feare,

(Unless that Lightning before death appear.)

Why should your Excellency thus value us,

As to designe us, new re [...]ev'd, to th' Gallowes?

'Twere better ne'r to have been freed, then I

Should now surrender to a Hue and Cry;

And on the next tall tree, in these scap'd Chaines,

Gines Passamont should give the Growes his braims.

Those braines that form'd and fram'd that glorious work,

(Greater then Tamerlains, that slew the Turk,)

Whom he did keep in Iron Cage; till, wroth,

He beat his braines out, which to goe were loath.

O Sir, some nobler thing command:

Cannot you change? it is not under hand,

Nor Persian Edict: Knights of the Round-Table

Were never said to be unalterable.

If that your Queen were her they call of Faries,

(As if she's like to you, you must be Pares)

Would it not be as well to have some Aves,

Such pious so [...]es as we shall get God save-yeets,

With equall Creeds, and equall Pater [...]osters,

We will roar out in most amazing postures:

Both night and day we will frequent the place,

Praying you both have a like Favour'd race.

That whosoe'r behold the valiant youth,

May swear 'twas spet out of Don Quixots mouth.

But for this Boon, dread Sir, doe not pursue it,

For to be short and plaine, we will not doe it.

I sweare, said Don Quixot, [...] whore, Don Ginesio Paropillio.] This perempto [...]y Denyall made the D [...]n all flame within, and soot and smoak without, insomuch, that he [...] and foam'd, (like a Boares head on a Chasing- [...]) and [...] upon Rosinant, he rode up to the Head of the Foot, and [...], and with his Face full of Wroth, and filthy Fury, [...]etting his [...] to [...]his Lance, and his Lance to his side, and an Oath in his mouth, which was none of the smallest. By the faire [...] [...] of my Mother, ( [...]wore the Knight) whose [Page] very picture I am, when she teem'd me under the Line, thou sonne of Lupa, Don Gives of Pass'on-offa, or Don Ginger-bread of Parapompeon, or by what Title soever call'd, or mis-call'd;

Thou'dst better eaten Tarre, then from thy chops

Had fell such rude, and undigested drops:

I destin'd thee unto a Linck of Chaine,

Now load it all upon his neck profane,

Untill with weight (as due) it crack againe.

And for these bold presumptuous words alone,

(All these remitted) without Hose, or Shoon,

Vnto Dulcinea (Pilgrims poore) be gone.

He winked on his Companions, and going aside, they sent such a showre of stones.] See, see the wheele of Fortune! O Vicissitude! O Moone! O Madnesse, to think it can be otherwise to men under the Moon! Trust not to Honour, she's an Eele; nor to Victory, she's a Wheele; nor to Riches, they are Witches; nor to Popularity, that short-liv'd Charity; nor to Friends, for Love is for Ends; nor to Allyes, for none can tell who cries when he is dead, and cold is his head. Our Grand-Signior Don of the Mancha and Sexcenturiat is un-Ottom, and by his own Janizaries, and Sancho-Mahomet hangs betwixt two Opinions, and knows not which side to take: Passamont not mov'd with the Reverence of his looks, nor the Majesty of his Helmet, beats the Brazen Diadem about his Tinne-pot face, and with shoals of stones so pelts him, that the Knight lookt for his end, and to lye buried under small Pebbles, and other Rubbish, as if he had dy'd in a Pitcht-field: Rosinante is over-turned, and lyes all foure upward, as if the Earth had back'd him, and he was riding into the Aire. Sancho is uncanonically us'd, and stript of his Casso [...]k, under whose pious Covert many a Henne and Chicken hung, as small Birds in a cleft stick. The Asse is (as alwayes) Animal cogitabundum & obtusum, and so stands, and they all not much unlike. But the Don is most dejected at the apprehension that these his Captives should returne him stones for bread, paine for ease, and confinement, to a wilde Mountaine, for their enlargement to the wide world, where we must look him now, if we will finde him, for the Don doth not goe now to seek, but to hide.

CHAP. IX.

An Honourable Retreat, with Horses flying,

With bodies furl'd, and Colours 'like men dying:

Launce trail'd, and Rosinantes pendent eares not prickt,

Vnless sometimes, when Don his dull sides kickt.

Still like himselfe our Don, for as in fight,

He ran into the thickest, so in's flight:

No Hare so intricate a Maze could make,

And by their Doubles they like courage take:

[Page] But Sancho does runne Counter-posting back,

That he may finde the Path in the same Track.

But now they'r got into the uncouth'st place

Of all the Mountaine, Where a little space

Spent in Refection, little there was drest,

Their Belly's full, their bones were soon at rest,

Here with eyes clos'd full close, and open nose,

Knight and Squire-Errant, take their loud repose.

Not Errant now, no not in dreams, nor thought;

For want of Fancies Scouts, a Mischiefe's wrought;

(Such as our after-times will sadly Rue)

Sanch's Asse is stolne, (such Asses were but few.)

And never bray'd, nor gave the shrill Onch, Onch;

For Passamont the slave had slily slunck

Into Morena for a skulk, and gazing,

Espies two Asses sleeping, and one grazing.

These undisturb'd he leaves; but takes great care

For Sancho's Brute, to shew him better fare.

Pancha i'th' Morn' had e'en departed too,

Not out, but in the Mountaine, when the view

of an old Wallet, lin'd with yellow Boyes,

Turn'd his Asse-Funeralls to gallant joyes:

He thinks not now of Tiltings, nor to fight,

But he will purchase Governments down-right,

He'll buy the Island of the needy Lownes,

And for the future save their Pates, not Crownes.

But O the Mischiefe! here's a Dev'lish block,

The Owner of the Gold, the Knight o'th' Roch

Appears, and in strict hugs, and close embrace,

The Knight o'th' Rock, and the Ill-favour'd Face

Encounter one the other; Tales are told,

Which Sancho likes, but not a word o'th' gold.

TEXT.

TO doe good to men unthankfull, is to cast water into the Sea, &c.]

—Perditur Oceano gutta.

Our English Proverb, though not against Ingratitude, is as smart; for it is all one to be unthankfull as insensible, so that, To grease a fat Sow in the Taile, comes much to one end. But these two Proverbs in their executions and applications are not alike; for few throw water into the Sea; or if once it have been done, it is never seconded upon the same person. For we so naturally love Flattery and Applause for all our gratuities, that if we misse our vaine-glorious Harvest, wee never sow seed in that barren and lethaean ground againe. But on the other side, when we are in the veine of Presents, and that to great ones; Curtesies not acknowledged are suspected, that they were either guilty of Intempestivity and unseasonablenesse, or else of want of Worth and Glory. This puts the Client, the Sutor, the Flatterer, the [Page] Prodigo, the Expectant, to fresh charge and new counsell of gifts, till they have either wearied their Purses, or their eminent (but taking friend) into a small resentment, by importunity, and multiplyed Repetition.

The Holy Brother-hood care not two Farthings for all the Knight-Errants in the world.] A Brother of the Sword could doe no more: but this Holy Brother-hood, were Brothers of the Whippe, or Bulls-pizzle. I believe, (such as the Fratres of Bride-well) whom to offend is a double punishment, starving and stripping: they are revenged upon back and belly, giving this too little, and that too much. But Sancho doth very much dignifie the Title of Knight-Errants, who it seemes in Spaine were esteemed no better then Vagrants, and passable from Tithing-man to Tithing-man.

Vpon condition thou shalt never tell any mortall Creature, that I with-drew for feare, but onely to satisfie thy requests.] This Adventure of Sancho's promoting, was the safest they yet encountred, the Adventure of Retirement, which was well ominously, and politickly ingaged on with an Oath of Secrefie. It will well become all spirits of equall undertakings with our Don, and equall successe, to sweare their Seconds, and Company, never to reveal the unfortunate issue of any fight, nor the necessities of a Retreat, whether orderly, or otherwise, as great Feare or Apprehension of Danger shall direct. But that you may see in what a stout Accent, with that Princely Gate, what undaunted Countenance a Don can make an escape, take Sanctuary, or else, like Robin Hood, befor the green Hills, presuming a shrug or two preparatively made:

Thus highly speaks—The Knight that sneaks.

Retreat! Retire! O base! But Sancho sweare,

Advance thy mouth unto our grisly haire,

And knab a Lock of that contorted curle,

That breaks the heart of faire Toboso's Gurle.

Sweare to a Haire, sweare by these sable Locks;

'Twas thy desire to live 'mongst Trees and Stocks;

Sweare that I went for Company, swear (Sirrah)

That I ne'r led the way into Sierra.

For though in all the Tables they shall finde

Me on the Forlorne, Sancho Panch' behind;

Yet in this businesse, (is't be cut in Brasse,

Or Wood, all's one) I followed here the Asse:

For what could Rosinant doe with his proud Bristles?

The Asse was best for guide through Thorns and Thistles.

[Page]

CHAP. X.

The Knight o'th' rock, and Knight o'th' harder face,

Salute each other in most Courtly grace:

Looke on these postures, who'l judge him o'th' Rocks,

Mad for a Mistresse, or the Don for knocks

Such civiliz'd deportment, shews of Love,

As Rock and Bad-face had been hand and Glove;

With strenvous Complements, (above the School,

Of Sr John Daw, or Amorous La Fool.)

The Don obtaines Cardenio's wofull Tale.

Where doth not Armes and Rhetorick prevaile?

Great was the attention o'th' Ill-favour'd Knight,

Who for Dulcinea was in wofull plight.

As oft as Ferdinand Luscinda prais'd,

A panting feare in his fond breast it rais'd.

Toboso too was flesh and blood; and how

If some great Prince should vacuate her vow?

'Twould prove of dangerous consequence for us,

To have our Ladies so adventurous;

But yet Cardenio gave no ground to raise

Such scruples, but Luscinda still doth praise,

And prosecutes his Story with such grace,

That it astonish'd all upon the place,

And the Don too; for so it fortuned,

He best the Tale into his Cockscombs head.

TEXT.

TRuly good Sr, whosoever you are, for I know you not, I doe with all my heart gratifie, &c.] Behold and view the very Picture of the Salutation-Taverne reform'd; an Andaluzian, and a Manchegan in the Spanish mode, passing Punctilios upon one another. I wonder it scap'd our Pencill men, especially when they had so many Signes to alter. A Knight-Errant and a Bedlam exactly drawn, in the liveliest postures of the Madrid Salutados, would have been as magnetick and beneficiall to the house, as the Renouned pieces of Iohn a Green, or Mul-sack.

The Knight of the Rock did nothing but behold him, and re-beheld him from top to toe.] Certainly these two inlarg'd their Organs beyond the Sphaere of their ordinary capacities. It is thought by the unusuall dilatation of their optick Nerves, they had so far extended their eyes, that all that instant, they might have been taken for a brace of Saracens; and as their postures before made 'um unfit for Tavernes, so these for Innes.

After viewing him well he said, if you have any meat, give it me for Gods sake.] Cardenio, being to make a full relation of his misfortunes, desires to eat first, and being quick at meat, was quick at worke, for having filled himselfe from the Wallets, he forthwith filled their Eares with a most [Page] passionate Story, which he did more sagely and deliberately deliver, then could be expected from such wild looks, and strange postures. The Story you shall have in Verse, because it is long, and the bestowing Feet upon it, will make it passe away the quicker.

Cardenio's story.

My name is Cardenio, the place of my Birth, one of the best Cities in Andaluzia.

1.

Cardenio is my name, my Birth

In one of Andaluzias

Best Cities, which hath got the praise,

For one o'th' choisest Seates on Earth.

2.

My Parents did in wealth abound,

As I in sad Misfortunes doe,

(Wealth is no Antidote for Woe)

Such as else-where cannot be found.

3

In the same Cities round there shin'd,

A beauty of transcendent grace,

Who made a Heaven of the place,

Yet to my ruine was assign'd.

4.

Luscinda was this Angels name,

And she had earthly glories too,

(If Wealth and Honour ought can doe,

To magnify a Ladies Fame.)

5.

Loves fuell in our Child-hood glow'd,

And when we knew not what w' would have,

To amorous play our selves we gave,

And innocent fire along flowed.

6.

Untill with yeares the flame grew high,

And our wise Parents 'gan to see,

These fires could not extinguish'd be,

But by our mutuall tie.

7.

Luscinda's Father fear'd our Loves

Might unresisted run, whereby

A non-admittance unto me,

My faith and loyall temper proves.

8.

Like Pyramus and Thisbe then,

Through crannies we did Court,

And chinks and holes, conveigh'd our sport,

(Made stronger by her Fathers Pen.)

[Page]

9.

Restraint in Flames and Currents stopp'd

Runne wilder, and most furious break

Poor Damms, (in Combate too too weak.)

And winds oppos'd will ne're be topp'd.

10

(Deny'd accesse, and tongues up ty'd)

To Paper Stratagems we turn'd,

Our passions then in Letters burn'd,

And the conveyance was our pride.

11.

And by the Emblem of true Love,

(A feather'd Messenger well taught)

VVere constant Letters to us brought,

And we well paid the Carrier Dove.

12.

On it, as on Luscindas Lips,

Were kisses plentifully laid,

The Dove (as if accompt it made)

The loving tally justly keeps:

13.

And with the letter would approach,

Which 'oout her colour'd Neck was hung,

And soon as that was once unstrung,

To Bill Luscinda 'twould incroach.

14.

So that Luscinda knowing well,

The Bird did nothing, but 'twas taught,

Her Lips unto like kindnesse brought,

And paid my Favours with a fragrant smel.

15.

For that the kisses came from her,

Might be assur'd to me, shee sum'd

Her Lips in Civet (I presum'd)

Which I upon her did conferre.

16.

Thus did we blow our warm desires,

And words (like wind) increas'd the flame;

The papers did afford us game,

VVe liv'd upon fantastick fires.

17.

At last, impatient of delaices,

I undertooke a deadly taske,

It was Luscinda stout to aske,

Of her Lov'd Sire, and brook no naies.

18.

A thousand stops, a thousand onwards made.

As damm'd to Sisyphus his stone,

I forward went, yet back was throwne;

Couragious now, and now afraid.

[Page]

19.

Courage at last prevail'd, and I

Accosted him, whom most I fear'd,

And told him how I was indeer'd

Unto Luscinda, shee to me.

20.

My Love was Noble, and scorn'd stealth,

A Jewell of that value shou'd

Be purchas'd by a servitude:

A Thiefe is Master of no wealth.

21.

Wherefore his liking was the band,

Which us yet sever'd bindes,

(Tied fast enough in heart and mindes)

And for the second tye I stand.

22.

An answer gratious he bestow'd,

That I vouchsaf'd to honour his,

And made his only pledge my blisse,

And sugred language plenty flow'd.

23.

Then with a gravity he said,

Cardenio, still thy Father lives,

Both Parents legal consent gives,

Let him but say't, and thine's the Maid.

24.

Such wings the Answer gave my soule,

That I was straight-way flying home,

But thither when I joyfull come,

Strange news my wavering Fates controule.

25.

As I my due approaches made,

Resolv'd to aske Luscinda Wife,

Duke Ricards Letter, as my life

He bid me read, my Rise was laid.

26.

Cardenio, look you there, the Duke,

I know not whence the occasion is,

Courts you unto his Court in this,

As in a glasse your fortunes looke.

27.

None of the least Grandees of Spaine,

(But yet in Andaluzia chiefe)

Duke Ricard was; that my beliefe

In his great Offers were not vain.

28.

The Invitation it was high,

No lesse then be companion,

[Page] Unto Duke Ricards eldest sonne;

Few were so fortunate as I!

29.

And as I read, my heart did swell,

Dilated with the joyfull news;

Fond Fool! I too ambitious,

Thought happinesse at Court did dwell.

30.

But then my Father strook me dumb,

Saying Cardenio, yet two dayes,

Thy welcome person with us stayes,

And then for Court, thy time is come.

31.

These were too bigge for one poor Breast,

Nor could I keep them, but my faire

Luscinda was to keep her share,

That Cabinet became them best.

32.

With these a thousand kisses past,

And promises of constancy,

And teares did issue from her eye,

And cry'd, pray heaven thy Love doe last.

33.

Cardenio! and with that a sigh,

Take heed Cardenio of the Court,

It hath (my love) no good report,

And thou art young, and absent I.

34.

Absent? Luscinda didst thou see?

Where thou full deep engraven art,

Thou'dst find thy picture in my h'art;

Cardenio said, I live by thee.

35.

Then grasping her faire hand he vow'd

A constancy so firme and sure,

Angelick Formes should not allure,

(If they more faire could be allow'd)

36.

Nay, nay, Cardenio you're at Court,

Luscinda blushing said,

(And by those colours Truth it made,)

Which he devised in Loves sport.

37.

But envious Time cut off the rest,

Of pretty talk; their lips doe now

Transact, all closely seale and vow,

And unto secresie are prest.

[Page]

38.

Parted at length with much a doe,

By the quaint'st language of the eye,

A thousand farewels you might spie,

If you doe know the Art to woe.

39.

Her Father now was come, and put

An end to all, but thoughts;

Salutes did passe, and both besought,

That time true-Loves knot might not cut.

40.

The good old Man could nought denye,

(For on Luscinda he did dote)

And as she would, he pass'd his vote,

Lest crossing her should make her dye.

41.

VVith these good Auspices rejoyc'd,

To the Dukes Court Cardenio flies,

VVhere all regard well justifies;

The Duke did Love him as 'twas voic'd.

42.

Honour'd by [...]h' Duke, and 's eldest sonne,

But envied of the followers,

I found that flatteries and feares,

Possessed wholly every one.

43.

It 'twas too much, they thought, that I

Should in the Father and the sonne

Hold such a strong affection,

That they me nothing would deny.

44.

But when they saw Lord Ferdinand,

(The second sonne of Duke Ricard)

Shew me such Love, such high Regard,

They fawn'd on that they cann't withstand.

45.

And then, as the known Favorite,

I often was applyed unto,

And praises heard, which were not due,

In which more danger is then spight.

46.

Don Ferdinand did so exceed

In his exalted Love, that nought

He fear'd or lov'd, his very thought

He did impart, I was his Creed.

47.

Not his own Brother would he trust,

(Though they did love most deare)

[Page] With what he whisper'd in my eare,

And once admit; retain I must.

48.

So dangerous the secrets are

Of Princes, that they fire the brest,

Where they lye lodg'd as a dark nest,

And if divulg'd they make a Warre.

49.

But that which touch'd Lord Ferdinand,

Was an unequall love he bare,

Unto a Virgin rich and Faire,

A Farmers daughter of the Land.

50.

He told me all the passages,

Of his long Suit, and how the maid

Could by no Arts be once betrai'd,

Nor would give eare to wanton pleas.

51.

Which forc'd him to a solemne oath,

Made only to intrap her soule,

For he intended actions foule,

Yet swore they would be married both.

52.

Then what my power was I tried,

And with perswasion strong disswade

His further hanckring on the maid,

Which all his honour vilified.

53.

What, would a Lord of so high blood,

Such expectations from abroad,

Take up a daughter of the road,

And in a barne Nurse up his brood?

54.

What talke would this be in his owne?

And what in other Princes Courts?

Where your two names should be their sports,

And the whole Table of the Towne.

55.

What a defeat might it chance prove.

Unto the Dukes contriv'd designes;

If to some forreign Prince, he mindes,

To send you for a Noble Love.

56.

O (Sr) that gallant master are

Of Valour, not to be envied,

Nor equall'd, let a worthy pride

Make you disdaine this humble Ware.

[Page]

57.

Don Ferdinand fear'd this loyall friend

Might (as he meant) disclose his mind

Unto the Duke; He then did wind,

As if toth' Sure he'd put an end.

58.

Cardenio, see, thou hast o'rcome,

So Potent are thy words, so true,

That I the mischiefs will ensue

Foresee, thy reasons strike me dumb.

59.

Come, let us fly temptations strong,

They cannot follow where we'l goe:

For none but thee and I will know,

Where we'l retire, from Love, and wrong.

60.

Thy City Famous is for breed

Of the great Horse; under pretence

Of buying thes [...] we will get hence,

And with new work our Fancy feed.

61.

When he once nam'd my Native place,

You would not think with what content

His plot did please me, for I went

Joy'd, I might see Luscindas face.

62.

My Lord (said I) y' have Counsell'd right,

Absence and businesse will estrange,

And often minds with places change,

Out of our thought, once out of sight.

63.

Having obteined the Fathers leave,

We forthwith will away,

VVhat danger may be in the stay,

Your honour cannot but conceive.

64.

But Ferdinand had further reach,

For he'd enjoy'd his Country Maid,

And of the effects was now afraid,

Such works in time, themselves will peach.

65.

And though through oaths and vows he got

A Jewell of a worthy price,

Having a Dunghill for its rise,

He did not value it a jot.

66.

Therefore with winged speed he posts

From Court; (the Duke our leaves assign'd)

[Page] Our Gennets vied it with the wind,

And brought us straight into our Coasts.

67.

According to his dignity,

Lord Ferdinand was entertain'd;

But I thought all my time profan'd,

Untill Luscinda I did see.

68.

VVe were not long e're we renew'd

Our joys and hopes; and now we strive,

Our speedy Marriage to contrive,

VVhich a small time should sure conclude.

69.

Nor could I hold, nor thought it fit,

A parity of Love commands,

But did disclose to Ferdinand,

(O had I ne'r discovered it!)

70.

Luscindas glories and her youth,

Her beauties in so high a strain,

That Ferdinand desired to gain

The sight of such excelling truth.

71.

And his desire (O simple I,)

VVas from a window gratified,

VVhence he both mine and Natures pride,

VVith ravisht Senses did espie.

72.

Vanish, saith he, all Faces yet

That e'r my Fancy mov'd,

They'r now not worthy to be lov'd,

Shee's Ivory, and they are Jet.

73.

Happy Cardenio in thy choyce!

That in thy Armes art sure to inclose,

The Lilly's envy and the Rose,

But that thou'rt her choyce, more rejoyce.

74.

For Ferdinand unhappily,

A Letter from her hand had found,

VVhich I had laid as under ground,

But not secure from Jealousie.

75.

Therein my Innocent fond faire,

In silken words upbraids my stay,

And wittily chalkes out the way,

Lest I should pulingly despaire.

[Page]

76.

This Letter to the skies h'extoll'd,

Vlysses to Penelope,

And Ovids Rarities did he

Account as poorly pen [...]'d and bald.

77.

Others (said he) Cardenio

Some single grace may have, but here

Vertues are mounted in their Sphaere,

And no declining know.

78.

Luscindas just and merited praise

I lov'd to heare, but yet my thought,

I did not lik't and it had wrought

In my sad heart, a jealous maze.

79.

For my Luscinda, as an Oake

I confidently deem'd, yet his

Frequent and forc'd hyperboles,

VVhen no man thought of her, or spoke,

80.

Did raise some small suspition,

(Encreas'd by's peeping in her Letters)

VVhich (he sware) all were pleasing fetters,

And proud should be of my condition.

81.

Nothing could scape his Eye, that went

To her, or from her, hee'd see all,

A book shee lik'd, 'twas Amadis D' Gaul.

Scarce had the Don heard him make mention of books of Knight-hood, &c.] Here is the Dons Cue, and he will enter, and speak in spight of a broken pate, which was sure to ensue, yet with more manners then ordinary, he excuses his interruption of the story, opening his foolish infirmitie to Cardenio, and telling him plainly, that he was no wiser then he should be, and though his head was full of Bookes, it was like a Library, which was not a jot the learneder for them: But if so, it had been well, the Don would have bestowed Chaines upon them, they would have stood the quieter in his own head, and would have been lesse troublesome to others.

He is a bottle-head that would thinke otherwise, theu that Elisabat the Barber kept Queen Madasina as his Lemmon.

Uvaque conspectâ livorem ducit ab uvâ.

One Foole makes many.

Humours are sodainly imitated, especially if there be any life and fancy in 'um. Many have by representation of strong paisions been so transported, that they have gone weeping, some from Tragedies, some from Comedies; so merry, lightsome and free, that they have not been sober in a week after, and have so courted the Players to re-act the same matters in the Tavernes, that they came home, as able Actors as themselves; so that their [Page] Friends and VVives have took them for Tonies or Mad-men. It fell out here so, for Cardenio is rais'd a Cue above the Don, who was in the behalfe of Ladies; but Cardenio is for the more dishonourable part, which is the occasion of a great quarrell.

That is not so I vow, by such and such, quoth Don Quixot, in great choler.] If the Don had permitted Cardenio to have compleated his story, he would not have been so fiery in the defence of Ladies; but (alterâ parte inaudiâ, the Don hearing but of one Eare;) this matter prov'd a dispute, for who knew Elisabat the Barber, or Queen Madasina better, the Don or Cardenio, is a hard question to resolve? (the Persons being no where in the world;) wherefore the Queen and the Barber being no where to be found, I doe rather adhere to Cardenio's opinion, that they were together.

Queen Madasina was a Noble Lady, and 'twas not to be presum'd that shee would fall in Love, &c.] The Don goes upon presumption for his Argument, and Oaths, the lye given, and Villanie for the Victory: These were indeed both presumptions, as it fell out; for great Ladies have miscarried in their affections, (though the Don was not yet belov'd by any) and stories (his owne stories) are full of their Levities, Inconstancies and Falshoods, to their Knights; insomuch, as some have submitted to their Coach-men, Foot-men, and Lords Pages, in a vacation of service. But the Lady Madasina, being a meer Chimera, a name and nothing else, the Don therein, might justifie the chastity of a Queen and no Queen; a Lady and no Lady; a name and no body. To the other presumption it was harder replyed, for that part of it rais'd an adventure, wherein the Don had his usuall fortune and successe; for with a well ordered and right guided stone thrown by Cardenio, (now in his fits,) Quixot was confuted flat, and lay on his back, indifferent for the present, whether Madasina were vitiated by Elisabat or no.

Sancho seeing his Master so roughly handled, &c.] Compassionate Sancho! That good Nature should betray a man into mischiefe! Yet aliquod Malum, propter vicinum, and like Master like Man, is a Proverb, at this time very true; for Cardenio (feeling the rude assault of his clownes fist) runs upon him with more then Humane violence, and turnes the tunnebelly, and rides him in worse fashion, then our Countryman Coriat did the Barrell at Hiddleberg; But Cardenio did so trample him, that he made him run worse liquor by halfe, and after he had pressed him, and flatted him like a Pancake, he imitated his companions, the Goates, and left Sancho to the Goatheard.

The dispute ended in catching one another by the Beards.] 'Tis not alwaies true, that 'tis merry when Beards wagge all, for these mens Beards wagg'd as fast as they could tug 'um, but mov'd no mirth at all; they were verifying that Song

Of heigh brave Arthur O' Bradly,

A Beard without haire lookes madly.

Two Ancient Reverend Men, had almost disthatch'd their Faces, and coud neither of them sue for distraminations. If Quixot had not recovered out of his sound, and reconcil'd this difference, his Squire Sancho might have pass'd for his Page, he had been made so smooth chinn'd, and the [Page] Goates would never have own'd such a beardlesse boy as the unstead Goatheard for their leader. But the Knight of the Ill-favoured Face, seeing the misusage of their's, thought he might lose his own title, or have a compartner; which is very dishonourable, that any should give the same Field, world, or devise, as himselfe. Wherefore he parts them; now very fit for Mr Elisabat the Barber, if he had done with Queen Madasina.

CHAP. XI.

Our Don is now a Mountanier, a Sect

Sometimes, who in the Worlds neglect

Abandon'd the Community of others,

And liv'd in Deserts, (discontented Brothers.)

But not in imitation of Montanus,

Shunning the world, (as if it would profane us.)

Doth Quixot take the Mountaine to abide in?

But he had read, Orlando ranne beside him-Selfe,

Selfe,'Cause Angelica the faire plai'd fowle,

And 'twas as fit for him to play the Owle:

But chiefly he was headlong driven to it,

Because that Amadis d' Gaul did doe it

Upon disdaine of Oriana, who

Did, as Angelica before did do:

Wherefore a Pennance, the good Amadis,

(Never such tender-hearted Knights a [...] these)

Imposes on himselfe; So doth our Don,

(For if there Mad men be, he'l sure make one)

And doth out-Act Du Gaul, and wild Orlando,

And do's much more yet, then ever yet did man-do.

TEXT.

IF Fortune had so dispos'd of our affaires, as that Beasts could speak, (as they did in the Guisipetes time) the harme had been lesse, for then would I have discours'd with Rosinante.] Sancho doth very bitterly, but very simply complaine against the safe and incomparable use of silence, admirable if voluntary, indeed lesse commendable if impos'd; and because he doth instance of that happy time of the (Guisipetes) wherein Beasts had the freedome of speech; it shall be made appear to Sancho, that there was no such time, when the Creature spoke, or if at any time it did, it was but once, and that an Asse too. The Guisipetes were a people of Sancho's onwe making, for no History, nor Chronology, ever heard of 'um, and it may be, were those where he was to be Governour of, unlesse he mean the Antipodes, where [Page] notwithstanding, the common errour men goe upon their feet, and the Beasts speak as they doe now, and ever did. It is silence in Beasts, that hath kept them at such Amity, as they are, peace and quietnesse; there is no challenges amongst them, no Duels, no Wars, (except what are fictions of the Frogs and Mice) and the Frogs indeed, (a croaking generation) that is somewhat neer speaking, have incurr'd by their mutinous noise Iupiters great rage. But the rest of the sensible Creatures, having some two or three naturall sounds for the significations of their severall wants or satisfactions, live contented, that is, speechlesse, saying nothing, and grow fat upon it; for talking spends the Spirits, and Livia's would never be fat.

Eheu quam pingui macer est mihi Taurus in Arvo?

That was a bellowing Bull, that in the best Pasture, Sancho, will never thrive; an Asse that brayes in that manner, will eat but few Thistles: Nay, reasonable Creatures, to whom Language is permitted, the wisest are counted the lesse talkative, the wisest of Nations (which our Don counts his owne, and it might have pass'd, had he not spoiled the Universality of it) are no pratlers, and very weary in answering frivolous questions, passing off replyes in a politick silence; the Country shrugge, and a considerative gloat of the Eye, which are maine good preventives in a place troubled with the Inquisition. What a miserable things is it, to heare Men and Women every where almost, saying, would my Tongue had been out when I spoke it: That Tongue of yours will undoe you. Aesops two dinners of the same sort of meat, may very well shew the vanity of Sancho's wish; where, of bad Tongues he provideda most plentifull Feast, but of good ones, he could scarce make a messe. I would Pythagoras were alive againe, that men might be taught silence for seven yeares, and a seven yeares custome would not easily be broken. The Don sure was a Pythagorean, for he had enjoyn'd silence, and for a time he practised it: But Sancho now being wild and passionate for the losse of his Asse, he will no longer live in that safe condition of Mutes, (whom as no man will hurt, so the grand Signior doth highly Honour and trust) but most foolishly obteines the liberty of speech againe, which did ingage him into many adventures, and that his Tongue might goe a little, hath been the occasion that his head hath too often runne.

I' faith Sancho, if thou didst know how Honourable the Queen Madasina is, thou wouldst say I had great Patience, that I did not strike thee on the Mouth.]

See the fruits of his freedome of speech; his Mouth is no sooner opened, but 'tis like to be seal'd up againe. Sancho's tongue was like a Bels clapper, beating others, and ever beat it selfe, and never better then when it was an end. Who would have such an instrument, that should be alwaies jarring? Sancho, returne to silence, and to security, Canst not thou (Fool) content thy selfe with thinking; your Thinkers doe more knavish, mischievous things unpunished, and unblameable, then any of the subtilest railers in the World. Sancho, be tongue-tide againe, or lose thy teeth, never speake much, but confine they selfe to some few and necessary quaeries, ask for Mony, ask for meat, ask for the way, and ask for plasters. These things are but short, and yet it will be long before you get them.

[Page] The truth of the History is, Mr Elisabat was very prudent, and a man of great Iudgment, and serv'd the Queen as Tutor and Physitian.] The Don hath given a degree to day, and made a madd Dr in the Forrest of Stenna Morena: To justifie the quarrell, he hath created Elisabat Dr and Tutor to Madasina; the degree of Physick was the most proper he could thinke of in that place, for it was naturally made for simpling, where the Don gave a great augmentation in his own person.

Those that suspect and affirm that she was his Friend, I say again they lye; and those that either thinker or say it, lie a thousand times:] This kinde of Confutation, is not only Spanish, but hath got into other Countries, where if it be emphatically spoken, that is, stoutly and in full accent, it confounds for the time. But suppose one thinke so but once, who shall know it? and if he say it no more, how shall he lie a thousand times? Our Don is transported mainly with Mr Elisabat, and I doe believe he hath some plot upon him, to change Basons with him, for Mambrimo's Helmet was most rufully batter'd: that he is so favourable to Physitians, may in time procure a Counsell to mend his Balsamum Fierebras, and the promotion of a Barber Surgeon to a Doctor, (Things done by wiser men then Don Quixot) they will confer their Plaster-boxes, and poor Sancho and thy selfe shall no longer be tied to that poor refuge of Pisse and Oaken leaves.

Thou must wit that desire of finding the Madman alone, brings me not into these parts so much.] As for that, he meant to turne Mad man himselfe. Now, whether a man may abdicate his reason, renounce his understanding for a time, and discover (if not discover'd) no reasonable Acts, whereby a man should not undifference him from a Beast, and live and enjoy himselfe in the sensitive part alone, is a hard matter to determine, and harder to doe. To counterseit Madnesse is ordinary, and to be really so, more. Bedlam affords you these; the streets (if not better places) the other. After Death, the Pythagoreans averr'd a transmigration of Soules into new Bodies, and oftentimes entred the Soule of a Philosopher into a Goose; shifted Alexanders gallant Spirit into a Dottrell, and such like changes, as Lucian, or such abusive Forges, had a fancy to fashion 'um in. But these are fantasticall conceits; our Don is reall, he will put off the Man, and put on the Beast, only reserve to himselfe the benefit of Speech, which whether man have, or not have, he cannot be said to be out of his Senses for the matter: Strong passions left too long unsuppress'd, may overthrow the temper of the braine, and totally subvert the rationall parts, and some paisions counterfeited long, whether of griefe or joy, have so alter'd the personaters, that players themselves (who are most usually in such employments,) have been forc'd to fly to Physick, for cure of the disaffection, which such high penn'd humours, and too passionately and sensibly represented have occasion'd. I have knowne my selfe, a Tyrant comming from the Scene, not able to reduce himselfe, into the knowledge of himselfe, till Sack made him (which was his present Physick) forget he was an Emperour, and renew'd all his old acquaintance to him; and it is not out of most mens observation, that one most admirable Mimicke in our late Stage, so lively and corporally personated a Changeling, that he could never compose his Face to the figure it had, before he undertook that part. The Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face, had much done to his hand, in his intended Emigration; [Page] for counterfeiting there was not much need, (if hunger did not make a revocation of his little wits at any time.) For Crabs, Hawes, Acornes, Berries, agreeing naturally with his complexion, and embetter'd his Face to all purposes: I doe believe it 'twas possible for the Don, for a certaine time to lose his Wits, and to revoke so much as he parted withall, and be not a grain the wiser at their returne.

Have I not told thee already saith Don Quixot, that I mean to follow Amadis, by playing the despaired Wood and Mad man.] The example of Amadis, is very autorative with our Don, but why he should rather labour to imitate him in this fit of Madnesse, then-in any other of his magnanimous Acts, is very strange; no, it is not so strange, but a common thing: When did you see a wise example followed by many, or any? Let it alone, 'tis grave, stanch, and singular. Thin are the appearances at Gresham Colledge, when the Bearegarden, the Cock pit is thrung'd with Company: If Bartholmew Faire should last a whole year, not Pigs not Puppet playes would ever be surfeited of. The wenches could live and dye with Jack-pudding, what flocking of good wives and Pickpockets to a Ballad? or if at any time a Mad man have broke his custody, he shall have more followers then pittiers. Our Don is of this number, who cannot read of a mad prank, bu [...] he must augment the sport, and rather then hee'l have no part in the Stage, hee'l play the mad man.

I believe (quoth Sancho) the Knights which performed the like pennance, had some reason for their austerities, &c.]

Insanio cum ratione;

To play is allowable (quoth Sancho,) I have lost my Asse; for me to be beside my selfe, were a pardonable thing: But for you, who have lost nothing, but the way home and your wits, why should you be madder yet? who have a Mistresse, Lady, Queen, (what doe you call 'um) that is secure of her honour, whom no Prince, Knight, Inchanter, Moor, nor the Devill himselfe would come neer: Why should you run mad? unlesse that 'tis your good hap, to have such a singular piece, that you need never be jealous, never keep a spie, never use Italian gimcrack, or any restraint upon; and doe you therefore surfeit of happinesse, and are mad, because you have no cause to be so? Amadis had a powting slut, a sullen huzzy, he should have curried her Coat, and ne'r run mad for it. Our Mary Gutierez, when shee was in the Mubble [...]ubles, doe you thinke I was mad for it? no, no; I took my Asse (O that I could doe so now) and went to the next good Town, and let it Jubble out as it Mubbled in. Orlando indeed had some reason to be mad, Angelica made him horne mad; now here's some cause. But you are an obstinate Mad man, and will be Mad, because you will be so; Dulcinea del Tobos [...] having not given you the least occasion.

The wit is in waxing mad without a cause.] Herein the Don is paradoxicall, and singular, and will make himselfe the first Inventer, de Arte Amentandi, though he gaine but few followers, now by frequent private practises upon himselfe, as by being quarter Mad, halfe Mad, and three quarters Mad upon severall experiments, is the full Midsommer Moon madnesse to be attain'd unto. No doubt he had pass'd the three first tryals, and was very neer his perfection: The first quarter it is totty & freekish; the second, [Page] phantasticall, melancholy and suspitious; the third, quarrelsome and injurious, and then pure phreneticall. Our Knight is now in the increase, he hath but a wild dispatch or two to Toboso, and you shall have him in the full; and then he's for the King of Spaine, and Dulcinea del Toboso!

For he that shall heare you name a Barbers Bason, Mambrino's Helmet.] Sancho in this censure, discovereth his Masters aptnesse and preparednesse, for the incounter of Pennance, and that he was a Knight of so great curiosity, that he went the most appointed, and disappointed, unto any adventure, of any Knight in the World, being at that time the only Knight-mark of the East and West, and alone acted in the empty Theatre of the World. Captaine Iones was many years since downe in the Annals; and now to see, when his head should be busie composing Love-letters to Dulcinea, his Heroick braines are working, where he may finde some wand'ring Tinker, to mend that scarre of the broken Helmet; But dull-pate his man, upon the strength of sensitive observations, cannot be perswaded out of his errour, that it was a Bason. O curvae in Terras animae, his Soule was as disordered as the Helmet, which the Don beholding in the notion and rapture of his new vertiginous braines, left it with Sancho till it was uninchanted by some man of Metall, or else some Negromancer: For it was as sure to returne to the shape of Mambrinos helmet, as his owne face after all his labours was to be changed, if any would change with him.

The Knight of the ill-favoured Face made choice of this Place.] The Scene is laid, the Play will follow, he hath much to doe, and little businesse troubles him: But now he is worthily taken with the site of his Stage, whereon he meanes to outdoe Ieronymo, and this rapture of his is the best valediction to sense as could be thought on; for here is some to be found, which because it is of Poeticall fancy, though spun in prose, I shall endeavour to give you't according to the naturall aire of it.

The Don's welcome to the Woods.

O ye the Gods and Powers of the Place,

Wood-ticks and Goat-ticks, spoile my Ill-favour'd Face;

If any thing should charme mine eyes asleep,

Or the Inchanter Morpheus on me creep:

I doe not choose this place for sleep, though here,

Temptation is enough, the murmurer,

(The silver ratler on the gravelly path)

And gentle wind, which his soft lulling hath,

And moving boughes, which many a Nymph hath brought

To her repose, and more then that, 'tis thought.

I come Loud Musick to the place, you'r soft,

Yet when I'm hoarse, I then will heare you oft.

O you that in the Woods doe 'bide, green Dryades,

Behold my prancks, and you above wet Pleiades.

Come forth you Fawnes and frisking Satyrs,

And in mad fits, be my fellow Wa'ters.

[Page] O had I horns, (I'l send) and hoofs like you!

The one perchance I have: what would I doe?

I'd take a leap into the horned Moon;

And view at once a Corporation,

The largest in the World, and being there,

I'd wind my Hornes, and cry, Brethren up here.

But since we can't, we'l foole it bere below,

I doe intend to be a lasting show;

Surrounded with my Satyrs, Fawnes, my Kids and Goats,

What brave loud Musick will it be to hear our Throats.

3

Sancho, thou partner of my waies and woes,

Whom I must send, my secrets to disclose.

Remember how I sigh; and thump this Bre'st

(A Poxe upon the Corslet;) void of rest

Till thou returne me news from her, who is

The Loadstone of this man of steel: The blisse

Of this abandon'd wight, the star that rears

My desperate Valour, e' [...] o'r head o'r ears.

Sancho, if she should drop a teare, when thou

Tell'st this sad story, of my Mad mans vow;

Catch it be sure, and in some Chrystall Vyall,

Preserv't with care, for I will make a tryall;

And to the World will justifie the Pearl [...]' th' Glasse,

More Soveraign then was Balsamum Fierebras.

4.

This having said, he lighted from his Brute,

('Twas strange that Sancho suffer'd him to do't)

Unsaddles and unbridles Rosinant,

(Long did poor Rosinante those favours want)

And on his buttock striking him: O horse,

(That with me hast seen better dayes and worse.)

Take now thy Liberty he said, take Mare;

(More then thy Master ever did I'l sweare)

And know that in thy Forehead, though no starre

E'r was, yet Perseus Horse thou 'xceedest farre,

Or Pacolets, or Bradamants, or Hippo-gryphon,

Which the renown'd Astolpho vent'red still his life on.

Isay content your selfe with breaking your head on the water, or with Cotton or Wooll.] If Sancho had been a Confessour, he would have enjoyn'd very easie Pennance. But the Don is resolv'd to smart for no water, but Rock water, and in that he will chill his head and whole body, untill it be petrified, and able to endure knock for knock with a Rock. Cotton? to Cotton (as they say) ones Coat, that is, to baste it. Wooll to Sancho, but then when my flead Corps (by the touch of the most softest Down) would be in pain and anguish: No, no (Sancho) I am not in jest. By my order of Knighthood, Sancho, I must not lie; and therefore be expeditious in thy returne, lest thou findest thy macerated Master, more like a Skeleton then a Body, [Page] and so goest a farther search, not imagining that that can be the Don: Lint I have none, unlesse thou leave some, and the Balsamum Fierebras is all consum'd. Selfe-preservation, (though I mean Tortures and Whips unto my body,) must be thought on, for I have much to doe, and much to suffer. The suffering part comes first, which being over, Sancho, thy goverment, and our greatnesse doth draw nigh.

Quia ab inferno nulla retentio; as I have heard say.] No? Sancho, that's neither right nor right Latine; For Orpheus [...]laid out his Euridyce; Theseus return'd victorious; Herculos led away the three chopt Porter, and broke down the black Gates; and ever since (nulla retentio indeed) Hell is broke loose; you may now have free ingresse, and egresse, and regresse.

Now since we have no Paper, we may doe well imitating the Antient Men in times past, to write our mindes in leaves of Trees.] The Don was to be wood himselfe, and favour'd that Antiquity therefore: Barke there was plenty, but where were the ingraving Tooles? The Don though a great cutter and [...]lasher for distressed Ladies, could not make incision into a Tree for his Dulcinea. Had shee been a Tanners daughter, it had been the most proper missive, possible to be imagined; but (as shee is) most agreeable with her Hide. So as they say, if one would present a thing to like one, he should have sent that. But Paper is the great want. It is a great quaerie, whether it had not been better the invention had never been, and it had been wanting still, or that the Don had amongst his adventures, destroyed and confounded all Paper Mils? as he did, or would have done (at the encounter of the sound) the Fulling ones, not that Paper is of it's selfe pernitious, dangerous, or of evill consequence; it being the fairest child of foul Parents, that ever was, converting the Axiom, corruptio pessimi est generatio Optimi. For from rags, Snattocks, Snips, irreconcilable and super-annuated Smocks and Shirts, come very faire sheets; so that had not Writing and Printing corrupted so faire an invention, by the pestilent matter that they cast upon it, the project was of great use, as to put under Apple pies, make Lant-hornes in dark nights, Burn-graces in Summer to save childrens Faces, and Stomachers against the wind, (as they call 'um) when they are indeed very cleanly coverts for foule Shirts, (since the fashion of unbutton'd Doublets) besides the great service it stands Barbers in, for pictur'd Lanthorns, and Card-makers; and then ends not so unserviceably, but departs (somewhat blewly indeed) in being matches for your tinderbox. But for this quaerie, 'tis alike with those of Gunpowder, Tobacco, Printing, Writing, (whether it had been better they had never been) most men thinking their inconveniences to exceed their conveniences. Let it alone for me; the Don is to write Letters, and we must have Paper, or somewhat like Paper, or all the encounter of Madness is spoil'd. But happily, and in a good houre, Cardenio's Tablets supply the defect. You will have the Letter in time, bless the Don, he doe not make a long one.

Ta da (quoth Sancho) that the Lady Dulcinea of Toboso is Lorenco Corcuelo's daughter, call'd by another Name, Aldonca Lorenco. I know her very well, quoth Sancho, and I dare say, &c.

[Page]

Sancho's description of DON QUIXOTS Lady.

Mopsa on stilts, was not so high, nor big,

Faire as the farrowing Sow, pert as her Pig;

May-pole of flesh, dancing and danc't about,

Her mothers Wonder, and her Fathers Doubt:

For ne'r was such a shrivell'd star veling fellow▪

As her suppos'd Father, Corcuelo.

Some high German thrassers, who indeed,

Hop'd to have peopl'd Countries of that breed;

Her Sexes Champion, now, She [...] Hercules,

(Whom had he seen) before all Omphale's

He must have matcht, (unlesse at sight afraid)

His thirteenth Labour, the great Bosse [...] had made.

A new rigg'd Ship, with all her Sailes faire spred,

Looks like Aldonca stretching her from bed;

But hardly I believe have any Ships

So strong a gale, as blowes from her large Hips:

Shee if in place where the Colossus was,

Might 'twixt her strides unstruck-saile Vessels passe.

Had there been Beauty to those parts, shee'd been

The very statue of Originall sinne.

Borne to great Titles, (though from low descent)

The Don could not her honours much augment;

She as she grew, got nat'rall Heraldry,

Her Highnesse and her Greatnesse, none deny.

None will say but you did very well, if the Divell carried you away.] Sancho, rather then have Aldonca Loreneo to be his Dons Empresse, and so by consequence his fu [...]tie Mistris, commends his Master, and furthers the design of Madnesse: Any thing, the Divell and all take him, rather then he take Aldonca. An excellent remedy, certainly against Love! such another, as one having lost, said of his wife (the party deceased) that he had lost as good a wife as any man would desire to part withall; It may be of such a wife it was, that the poor fellow carrying to Bedlam, (said) being pittied as he went along the streets, the people crying, what will his poor wife do; nay (friends) I am not so mad yet.

Though thou hast but a grosse wit, yet thy jests [...]ip.]

Ridentem dicere verum—quis vetat—

This ridiculous foole spake smartly, and under the merry description of Aldonca Lorenc [...], makes bold to disparage his Masters Election, and puts the slut upon her, and the fool upon him. This made the Don take pepper in the nose, and unwilling to remand him silence, answers him with a Story of a widow, which is this in a short Epigram.

A widow of a plump estate;

Liv'd neer unto a Coll [...]dge;

And match'd the Porter of the Gate,

But pass'd the men of Knowledge▪

[Page] Whereat the Rector of the place,

(A grave and reverend sir)

Sent for his neighbour, and the case

He thus put unto her.

Had I so many Graduates,

And able Schollars too,

And have the most ungentle Fates

The Porter given to you?

The widow answered modestly,

As for that able stuff,

I like; he hath Philosophy

Enough (Sr) and enough.

For all the Poets which celebrate certaine Ladies at pleasure, think'st thou that they had all Mistresses? Dost thou believe the Amaryllies, the Phyllies, &c.] Now, now he is in his fit: O thou more then Ill-favour'd fac'd Don! what harme did the poor Poets doe thee that thou must insinuate to the world, that they had only chymericall, and imaginary Ladies, and never knew the duties of a nuptiall night, or came to a Zonam solvit diu ligatam, or reap the sweet pledges of those pleasant encounters, when Homer lay with his own Wife, Ovid with his owne; and more, Virgil kept at home with his owne wife, till the Souldiers disturb'd him, and sent him to Augustus for reliefe. Catullus, Tibullus, Propertius, had three wives, or else did worse; Lucan was the Country man, and you know the temper of the Countrey, you cannot live without wives or whores. Petrarch (the Great and Laureat) had his chast, and untill this day unblemisht Laura; and all the Poets (untill wives were interdicted Priests) had reall Mistresses or wives. Our Modern Poets, had one or two wives apiece. Poets, they are compos'd of such a Spirit, and salt volatile, (that unlesse you fix 'um at home with an amiable object of their own) not Caesars Livia could be free from their inveiglings. But a wife is better then Patmos, better be in the bands of Matrimony, then such Fetters. Our Nation also hath had its Poets, and they their wives: To passe the Bards; Sr Ieffery Chaucer liv'd very honestly at Woodstock, with his Lady, (the house yet remaining) and wrote against the vice most wittily, which Wedlock restraines. My Father Ben begate sonnes and daughters; so did Spencer, Drayton, Shakespeare, and more might be reckoned, who doe not only word it, and end in [...]iery Sylvia's, Galataea's, Aglaura's;

—sed de virtute locuti,

Clunem agitant—

'Tis possible to speak of holy life,

And anon after Solace ones own wife.

But that the Don is slept with the Gyants, Knights Templars, and there would be foul raking in the dust. At this time we might justly quarrell with him, for we have our Poets, who are Knights, and they have Ladies, and those Ladies are their wives: Wherefore this is the greatest scandalum Poetarum, that ever could be. But what shall one say to a mad man? nothing: Hee'l make sport anon for it, and there will be satisfaction.

[Page] Neither can Helen approach, nor Lucreece come neer her.] True, (Don) they are farre enough, and fast enough; yet surely, Helen and Lucreece put together with Paris and Sextus in conjunction, might something match her in the wast, if happily they were now flourishing, as she is. Tatius and Cloacina might come neer certainly, and it is strange shee is not call'd to be of the privie attendance to Cloacina, for no soule ever utter'd more constantly, or in a larger proportion then Aldonca, at their houses of ease, insomuch, that shee call'd in Votaries, with the high straines, and Jearing expressions shee alwaies made. But might not one with a Clove and Orange come neer her? is shee more sweet then an Anatomy, or the Bearegarden, or a nest of Pole-Cats, or a Tanne-pit, or a Soape Kiln?

Mysterious Fragrancies, Perfumes so close,

It doth escape the most sagacious Nose.

In the same sence I believe it is to be understood, as the like expression to a Barber, who having lost all his custome, bewail'd his misfortunes to his friend; saying, (Sr) why should it be thus, my shop is the best in Towne, my person tractable; I dare compare for an Eye, Leg, Hand, or Foot, with any man upon the place; and his Friend added (unmercifully,) and for thy Trade there's no man comes neer thee.

Heare it then quoth Don Quixot, for thus it saies, Sover aigne Lady, &c. Thine untill Death, the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face.] This is pure, his own invention, the marrow of the Do [...]s braines, the [...]rightest sparkle of his fancy, not miserably patcht up out of Bookes of Love-letters, or his owne Bookes of Errantry, (the ordinary helpes for the Amoroso's of the Time) for a compellation to a Lady, and abasement (for so are subscriptitions) of his own selfe; I doe not think Rablais can equall it. (Soveraign Lady,) what could be said more, to signifie her height and greatness? (Thine untill Death, the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face) What greater affront could he put upon himselfe, then to dedignifie his countenance, as not worthy to be look'd on by a Lady, nay, making it a scare-crow and Bugbear. This is Ars procandi, Woers policy, but yet he in the body of the letter follows his Complements. (Sweetest Dulcinea of Toboso) There was not one in that Country of such a scent: And anon after, (O beautifull ingrate!) You may make three words if you will of it, as Faire have been seen, in or at a Grate. But she as equally entituled one as the other; for till this Letter (which was never sent) shee could not be guilty of ingratitude, and ignoti nulla Cupido; how could her Beauty intangle that was impossible to be seen?

Sancho sware by his Fathers life, it was the highest thing he ever saw in his life.] The hope of his Asses makes him turn parasite. Had he read his Letter on the top of Sienna Morena, it had been higher farre. But Sancho is so much in his Masters flattery, that he makes the Divell himselfe of him. (who is Prince Errant o'r the whole world) So highly is he transported with the thought of Mary Gutierez, and the riding Rosinante, that he leave [...] the Don possess'd of the Principality of the aire, and as freely bestows it upon him, as he hereafter would dispose to Sancho the Government of an Island. Sancho will have warrant sign'd in his Masters now Title, for th [...] Asses perchance, and then he might be gone in the Divels name.

[Page] It is very necessary that I see you doe one trick.] Sancho is got into the saddle, and rides Rosinante and Master too; now his worship is pleas'd to see a trick. The Don, as if under (Tonies) correction, presently disrobes his lower Wardrobe, and like an Ape (deorsum nudus) shews himselfe to be desc [...]nded from Hercules by the melan-pygitie, (that is, the grizlinesse) of his posteriours, which were (no disparagement to his looks) as Ill-favour'd as his face; Besides others fights there were, wherein he seem'd a Mungrell, and not of the right Herculean Line. Yet like him too, when he was Furens, for they both are in their shirts, though the Dons was the fowler; Hercules his the worse, and more pernicious: Mad both too, but upon several grounds, one for a Smock, the other with a Shirt.

One dyes empoyson'd by the blood of Nessus,

And Don runns mad for a worse Beast; God blesse us.

CHAP. XII.

Soone are his frisco's over, (Sancho gone,)

It was too violent an exercise for one

Of Limbs so mortified; 'its very much,

If these few Tortures send him not toth' crut [...]h.

Wherefore resolv'd against Orlando's way,

Hee'l save his flesh, and only weep and pray,

(As once did Amadis,) a sober mad-man,

A Poenitentiary, or sad-man:

A bitter Pennance doubtlesse (Don) befals,

When that the Beads upon his wrists were Gaules.

Then most like Amadis-next he confesseth

All his whole life, which why he here suppresseth

(Who wrote the Book)'s unknown; but I shall get yee

A taste of it, out of old Cyd Hamette;

He also treats of Sancho, how he [...]anted,

When he his Letters and the warrant wanted,

Deeming h' had lost what he did ne'r receiv [...],

Till that the Curate and his Friend retrive

The Letter to his memory, but so confused,

That not a word the Faithfull Sancho true said:

The Asses are secur'd him, and the Letters

Should be reviv'd, or else made something better.

Thus Sancho's pacified, and all are plotting,

To fetch the Don from this mad course hee's got in;

Agreed upon't, away they all goe trotting.

TEXT.

LET the remembrance of Amadis live, and be imitated as much as may be by Don Quixot of the Mancha.] Second thoughts are best: Retra [...]ations of what we have untowardly design'd, wrote or spoke, shew not a man only wise, but Master of his own passions and humours, which some [Page] men are so in Love withall, that if once they have ingag'd in a business, they will through, though they meet with an hundred inconveniences, and selfe-reproofes in the way. Wiser did the fellow, who having lost a great sum of mony at Dice, got loose from the company, and then grew desperate upon the apprehension of the estate he was in▪ murmuring and muttering to himselfe, that on the next convenient post he would hang himselfe; the garters were taken off, the place was chosen, where by the help of a stall, it was fecible to fasten his garter to the Sign-post, and a short speech of his foolish and ill-spent life, he was preparing for execution, when on a sodaine, a merry tune came into his head, which one would have thought his farewell hymne, and that call'd into mind his companions, with whom he us'd to chant it; whereupon he puls downe his garter, and went away, saying, I reprieve thee from day to day, untill thou diest a naturall death; this was a wise recantation. Such was our Do [...]s, who (not without his Paenitentiall Psalme, as we shall heare anon) forsook his first resolution of tormenting, wounding, starving, and almost annihilating himselfe with fastings, watchings, and other pe [...]rsonall afflictions, and makes choice of the more rationall and easie way of D [...]-Gaul, which kept him in a whole skin. A Heremite he wanted to impart his griefe and life unto, from whom an absolution would have been of much comfort to him; but some pieces of his confession Cyd Hameti Benengeli hath preserv'd, taken out of decaied rinds of trees; one which (being the most antient and reverend stock of the place, having only two armes left, and those as it were stretch [...] out, to blesse or receive a Penitent,) he fell downe before.

He was much vext in his mind, for want of an Heremite to heare his confession.

The Confession of Don Quixot, taken out of some fragments of Cyd Hameti Benengeli, and are in Latine in the Originall.

1.

Grandaeve, & constans Pater, Fateor

Me non esse Dominum de Gateor,

Nec, (quantumvis amens hic amando)

Furiosum, qui dictus est Orlando,

Sed per Orbiculos Petri & Pauli

(Hos fellis globos,) sum Amadis Du Gauli.

2.

Erravi fateor, cum patribus meis,

Erravi pater, cum, & sine eis:

Doce, quaeso, quo me vertam, quia

Nec fui, nec Futurus sum in vid.

3.

In aurem fateor haec s [...]surrans

Iuvenis Consilium omne abhorrens,

Consulta sprevi matri [...] atqu [...] Patris▪

Qui designaverunt me aratris.

[Page]

4.

Sed addixi me Legendis Libris

Permendacibus & comburendis,

Vbi de militibus pugnacibus

Invulneratis Ferro, & facibus

Miranda vidi, & mulieres

Quas vivendo paenè Lapis fieres▪

Sed pater, quod ad res venereas,

Siquid unquam novi, malè Pereas.

5.

Parentibus defunctis per dium

Et Domus erant mihi taedium.

Fabulis refertus feror pronus

Ut miles essem, valeat Colonus.

Conscendo aequum mox & capio arma,

Et cum Conto Cuspide, & Parmâ,

Que non tuli (pater) que non feci?

Plusquam, (quando egressus sum,) conjeci.

6.

Enumerare velim libens, &c.

Upon six severall Trees, were these lines ingraven, and on the sixth something was begun; which whether by injurie of weather, or time erased and confounded, is a shrewd scarre, and losse to this History. Some supplements from Arabian Neotericks we have, which seem to compleat his confession and absolution, which you shall have translated into the Mother Tongue, for that was his Fathers, to wit, his Confessours.

1.

Sheep-slaughter, and Sheep-murther,

I doe confesse, and further

(Having no Providore)

The Poultry fell good store:

These peccadillo's Father,

You may forgive the rather,

Because sometimes by hunger put-on;

But by Nature I lov'd Mut-ton.

2.

Grice Mill, and Fulling Mill,

I did attempt to Kill,

But bloodshed there was none,

And Pennance for the one

I did i'th' aire, my Horse

And I, are still the worse.

But O the Coarse! who will me save,

Who fought a Corps out of its Grave [...]

3.

Father I have a number

More faults, (which castith' lumb [...]r)

[Page] As swearing, telling lies

Of ungot Victories;

And crying up the sootie

Aldonca for a beautie.

O by thy stretcht-out Armes declare,

That all these errors pardon'd are.

Now these Moderne Writers say, that a Goatheard had conceal'd himselfe in a Corke Tree nere the Oak, to heare Don Quixots Sonnets and complaints, and desirous to make up the Scene, spake from his hollow in a loud voice.

The Goath [...]ards absolution.

Sonne, I have heard thy words, thy sighs and grones,

Thy verses and thy lamentable tones:

I doe alsolve thee, but you promise must,

By no means to take Gyants upon trust,

And' cause your Windmill was the first ill fate,

Be sure to have a Windmill in your pate;

And' cause you runne at Sheep, I doe command

You weare a goodly Sheepes taile for a Band.

For the assault o'th' Coarse, about your bed,

And rings (when that you have 'um) carve deaths head:

As for your lying and your fearfull oaths,

When you leave one, I wish you to leave both.

Arise and thank the gods, who pittying thee,

Gave Armes to th' Oake, and tongue to the Corke Tree.

The Don tooke the miracle of his absolution, to be farre more eminent then if an Heremite had pronounced it, and confir'md in the opinion, tha [...] he was cleare in foro poli & soli; he fell into his melancholy part againe, and over-afflicted with the absence of Dulcinea, he composed the most pittifull Poem that e'r was read, whereby he doth approve himselfe the only mad Lover in the World. Yet of all the furies, you see by this, that he was not troubled with Furor Poeticus.

It is congruent we turne and recount what happened to Sancho.] The Don is left grazing, and picking of sallads, which being the only nutriment he had, did so discolour him, that he might have added a superlative to his title, and wrote of the most Ill-favour'd face. Besides, the crude herbs so frequently made their green sallies through his body, that all the Field where he rav'd up and downe, was full of Knight-sharne, and had it been possible to have got a fire and frying panne, he might have thriv'd better upon the Tanzies he evacuated, then with the herbes at first gathering. VVherefore he might very well containe, and most properly usurp that Verse to himselfe; ‘Hei mihi quod null is amor est medicabilis herbis.’

But Sancho is in his progresse to Toboso, and rides (not with Bellerophon [...] Letters) but without Letters, and with a mischiefe; but yet being ignorant of his misfortune, he arrives at the Inne, where he incounter'd the [Page] Coverlet, and came clean off. But the indignity disturb'd his Valiant soul, and he is as much toss'd in mind as then in body, and at last resolves not to enter into the house, though his owne belly, and Rosinantes were of the dissenting party. But while he plaies about the door, he and his horse are discovered by two of the Mancha (the knowing part of the Village) the Curate and the Barber, who betwixt threats and intreaties, worke out of Sancho all the passage of his Masters new projects, the errand that he had to his Lady of Toboso, and that in Tablets the Letters to Dulcinea, as also his warrant, for three Asses were included.

When Sancho perceived that the Book was lost, his visage waxed as pale and wanne as a deadman, &c.] Sancho not capable of his Book, doth fearefull execution upon himselfe, and in an instant, unthatches his reverend chin, that Mr Barber with his Razor or his Tweezers, could not be so expeditious: He grub'd up all by the rootes, where-ever his unmercifull hands fastened, and quarter'd his face into a plaine betwixt two thickets, nor did the rest of his Face scape his fury, which he did assault in such rough manner, that he was all gules, which running along the Champion of his Chin, made a bloody field. Poor Sancho, I pitty thy mistaken vengeance, and causelesse revenge upon thy selfe; and above all, that thou shouldst forget thine own counsell to thy Master, whom thou wouldst have (if he had a minde to castigate himselfe) to breake his head against the water, or a tod of a wooll, or some such favourable matter. But great griefe is insensible and impatient of advice; The Curate and the Barber stand astonished at his passion, (and forgetting for a time, both their professions) neither spirituall reproofe, exhortation, or comfort, came from Sr Iohn in the Cassock, nor any healing remedies from Mr Barber Surgeon, untill Sancho tels the cause of his lamentation and unkinde usage of himselfe.

Both of them took great delight to see Sancho's good memory.] Sancho had a brutish memory, and only serv'd him for the remembrance of his three Asses, and the losse of his grey Asse. But the Letter to Dulcinea, it was as much from his head as the Tables were from his Breeches; they never were there, yet the fool ventures on a recitall, and mingling his owne expressions with Don Quixots, he rendred himselfe to have as much fancy as memory: He only retaines that part of it which might have been best forgotten; (the subscription) Yours untill death, the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face. As to the relation of his Lords wandrings and prancks he was very punctuall, but his memory fail'd him, as to the tale of his owne tossing in a blanket, which being perchance a secret belonging to the bed, he thought it not fit to be revealed.

And he would give him one of the Emperors Ladies to wife.] Some of the decea [...]ed Emperours not doubt; for Sancho expected Mary Gutiereze's his head to be cold and laid with her mothers in the Churchyard at the Mancha. Thou art in the right way to preferment (Sancho) no better Mart then dead wives; especially if men have cast about in the lives-time of their dearly Beloveds deceas'd. As Sancho doth here, who layes the hopes of his second match to hight, that from a Manchegan Tripe-wife, he doth aspire to the Bed of a Queen. Dives promissus quilibet esse potest. This and more then this the Don assureth, upon the returne of a favourable Letter from Dulcinea, who could neither write nor read.

[Page] I would faigne know what Cardinall-errants give unto their Squires.] This is a strange transition, that the most wicked, unwarrantable and ungodly Order in the world should be at any time capable of the most holy and sacred: But yet in this also Sancho looks to be preferr'd; If he had peel'd his crowne as he had done his beard, he was in preparation for a Friery: No further could Sancho goe or proceed to the hopes of a Fortune in the Church. ‘Barba aliquando facit Monachum.’ And Sancho if he had not disparag'd his Face (with friends to shift off examinations and subscriptions) he might have pass'd for one Ordinus Minorum (as to his wit) but Superiorum & Majorum as to his Corps: unto which when he had another Corps added, what a goodly monke would there be? But Sancho, what thinke you of the Beneficiall Office of Porter to the Lord Cardinall Quixot, when in your gowne (not a Clericall habit of any Learning) but welted and crosse-lac'd, with gilded staffe of power in your hand, and your beard growne downe to the girdle; you have the power of admitting or refusing accesses to my Lord Archbishop Quixot, unlesse they pay the Turn-key: The Dollars dropping every day into the hand, would make you looke upon your selfe with good regard. Besides, in that Signiory, your wife (Mary) may be dispenc'd withall, or more, if (as you only are in favour with my Lord Prelate) you doe require a License in case of extreme calidity, and supersufficiency. Sancho was now in comfort, that go the world wik way it would, he was provided for, either with an Island, if the Don was an Emperour, or with an Honourable Mace, if the Don took into Church-preferment, which he had lesse mind unto. For though the Porter of a Cardinall may exercise his power over people without the gates, and sits there upon his Bench, and from his peep-holes judges of beneficiall Visitors to his Lord, and then most officiously opens the great gates (as his opinion's of them) and returnes them out at the Wicket: Yet he bethought himself, that in the Administration of his Governour-ship he should keep himselfe such an Officer, and sit upon the Bench in Judicature, advanced aloft, and have servants, which is better then to be one.

I will pray unto our Lord to conduct him to that place where he may serve him best, and give him rewards.] Sancho's devout zeale for his Masters promotion (with his owne) cals to mind the forme of an Epistle sent by a Schollar to his Father, which ran much after this manner:

The EPISTLE.

Honoured Sir,

THe Quarterly Returnes inforce me to write to you, and present my humblest duty to you; you will find that these Bils are higher then the last, occasion'd by publique sport in the Colledge, wherein I lost no credit, and by buying some new books, which our Progresse in study gives us occasion to use, so that I hope this excesse will not prove distastfull to you, since there is nothing but just and honest expences, no Ale-house scores, Tavern Bils, or the like, coucht under the stile of any of the particulars, which I pray read with patience, (as you usually doe.) Thus with my hearty prayers for your health (together with the receipt of the money) I rest,

Your most dutifull sonne.

[Page] The Curate told the Barber, that he had bethought to apparell himselfe like a Lady adventurous.] How Mr Licentiat? don't you know that by the Canon Law, it doth make you irregular, to shift sexes by change of apparell? propter bonum finem nisi sit; that distinction is not visible in the Canonists: But let it passe, this was a pretty invention, and like to prove a very good Scene, and the only probable way to reduce the melancholy Knight. Mad men (as well as mad Girles) love mad toyes: Strong conceits must be flatter'd, not resist'ed, and when you have humour'd such distempered fancies in the full of their folly, they will decrease (like the Moon) into quarters, till at last there is nothing to be seen. Such a course, and with very good successe, was taken by a Doctor, with a melancholy Patient of his, who using to sleep with his mouth open, (as he suppos'd) imagin'd a Mouse had slipt downe his throat; the Doctor perceiving his fancy to be strongly perverted, concurr'd with him that it was a Mouse, and nothing else that troubled him, and that he should (upon a little Physick taken) see the returne of him to his great joy. The Patient desired his dose; and within a day or two, the Apothecary gave him a slight vomit, which wrought very well, but at the first and second straines, no Mouse appeard; whereat, the Apothecary sware, he smelt him comming by the scent of the ejection, and therefore he wisht him to reach lustily the next provocation, and he doubted not but to shew him his incroacher, and to make him pay for a entry and forcible detainer: The next bout, the Apothecary under care of holding his head, clapt his hands about his eyes, and while he was expectorating with the other, he conveyed a live Mouse into the Bason, which the Patient seeing, he highly triumph'd over his disposses'd inmate, and at once clear'd his stomack and his fancy of the imaginary Mouse, by the Doctors wise application of a reall one.

CHAP. XIII.

Sr John is chang'd into my Lady Jone,

And Cut-beard is the Squire, (a proper one)

But Mr Curate (though trickt up and drest)

To act in Womans cloths thought it not best,

His orders did forbid him; They change par [...]s,

But not the plot, and follow their first Arts:

And while they doe pursue that brave design,

They sonnets heare, and harmony divine

At their repose, and at the last discover

Cardenio the discontented Lover;

Who now compos'd compleats his wofull tale,

And shews that wealth and honour will prevail [...]

Gainst oaths and vomes; the losse indeed is sad,

'But the worst loss [...] i [...], for it to be mad.

[Page]

TEXT.

THey borrowed therefore of the Inn-keepers wife, a Gown and a Kerchiefe, and left in pawn a faire new Cassock, &c.] 'Twas well if Mr Curate never knew the charge of taking up a Gowne before: It is a dear commodity, and hath put many a man to doffe all: But for Mr Barber, who (and yet I cannot tell whether the trades were conjoyn'd so antiently) was a Perruke-man by profession, should have no better shift then a pied Oxe taile for a Beard, is very unc [...]uth, he might have had enough of more pardonable Rubbish, if he had taken the paines to reforme Sancho's Beard, where was an infinite of shrubs to spare, without any wast to his Coppice.

The Hoastesse trickt up the Curate so handsomely.] So rare a dresse is this of the Gown, with the guards of black Velvet ful of gashes and cuts, that certainly the Don, or whosoever saw her, must needs take her for a distressed Lady, and oppressed too, if it were no more, then with that Gowne upon her back in the middle of August. But it seems the Gowne was of great Antiquitie, and being made in King Bamba's dayes, a Prince that delighted in no fashions, was extreamly ridiculous in King Cambises time, who was the most glorious Courtly Prince, and most observer of Modes in Arabia. Now what would move one of us easily perchance to laughter, will worke other effects upon the Don, who seeing a Lady submitting her selfe to his protection, and stiling him her deliverer, restorer and avenger of her Injuries, would instantly imagine, that some Villaines, Thiefes, Gyants, or Inchanters, had robb'd her Castle, kill'd her Knight, stript the Empresse, murder'd the young Princesse, and left her naked, untill shee was compassionated by a certaine Midwife, who accommodated her with her Christning Gowne, wherein shee got more pity, and rais'd a higher desire of revenge in the Don, by how much that more eminent she had been, and especially, that by her muffler he could perceive, she was very tender of laying open her rare beautie to the Sun-beams, which was another inducement to provoke him, that such a Beautie should not (and he a living Knight-Errant) suffer (unreveng'd) this injury. These opinions no doubt would surprize the Don, beside the uncouth figh [...] of her Squires face-handle, (by which he might seem to be a longo-beard) would much amaze him. But more the variegated forme of it, the like whereof he had not seen upon the face of man in all his Travels: But presently reflecting upon the hubbub, affrights, and confusions of the stormed Castle, he found, that the present feare and amazement the Squire was in personally, and the deep griefe that did seize him for his Lords and his young Ladies, and the sweet Princes Ruines, and his most sweet and Innocent Ladies horrid abuses, did change in a night one side of his Beard, as is frequent with those, who take too deep impressions of sorrow, to have their whole haire altered from any colour (except the same) into white.

Sancho, came over to them about that time, and seeing of them in that habit, he could not conteine his laughter.] Sancho shews himselfe a man by his proprieties, and though it be the sign of a fool to laugh excessively and often, 'tis the [Page] part of a rational man to laugh somtimes, especially when merry objects are presented. The contrary passionate Philosophers from the same objects rais'd teares and laughter: A great Argument that most mens actions are like Mr Curates Beard, pied: and that both Heraclitus and Democritus might exercise at once their customes upon them. Mr Curates Beard was indeed more ridiculous then Sancho's, yet Sancho sneers at it, having not seen his own face in a glasse since his first setting forth. Yet the intention of this foolish Metamorphosis, was commendable in the continuance, and dolorous in respect of the object; that wise men should permit themselves to play the fooles, to regaine a perverse and obstinate mad man to his home againe; let a man judge himselfe, and at night recount his dayes severall workes, and he will ingeniously (if he be impartiall betwixt himselfe Jury and selfe Judge) confesse, Inter ridenda & deflenda tempus esse perditum, and he might lay himselfe to bed like the Picture with a face of severall sides, the one weeping and the other smiling.

They arriv'd the next day following, where Sancho had left the tokens of boughs.] Sancho is now neer Bedlam, as he supposeth, and that he shall find his Knight, out of wits, out of cloths, and out of knowledge. The Curate instructs him what to doe, and gives him a letter of word of mouth, (not to be shewn, if he would conquer the world for it) which if he delivers with that fidelity as he did the Don's to the Curate, he may be stil'd Mercurio del Fido. They injoyne further secrecy, that he reveal not the designe; a thing which he was very well contented to doe, hoping it tended to his present installation to the government, and then there was another infallible token, that of two things committed to his memory, he could remember but one, and that was for his Asses, his profit quickning him in that particular. But as for the Letter to Toboso, it crumbled into such miserable Snattocks, that the Divell could not piece it together.

Both therefore arriving quietly under the shadow, there arriv'd to their hearing a sound of a voice.]

Ante Focum si frigus erit, si messis in umbr [...].

Umbrage and Musick too, and vocall, too, was treble delight: But such rare straines, and so exactly sung, rais'd their opinion, (that it was not pastoritiall, nor any Dorus that sang) but some body of rare fancy, and exquisi [...] voice. It will be a good Parenthesis, according to the inversion of the Verse, (both waies to be followed)

Interpone tuis interdum seria ludis.

Sancho being gone to fool it with his Master;

Cardenio brings o'th' Stage his sad disaster.

The continuation of Cardenio's Story.
Luscinda's Letter to Cardenio.

1.

Love and Desert enforce me to

Hold you not only high and deare,

But to put off all foeminine feare,

And teach thee slow-man, what to do.

[Page]

2.

If thou desirest in civill waies,

Without a clausam fregit writ,

Upon my honour (tender it)

It is my glory yet, and praise.

3.

Unto my Father make addresse,

He loves me highly, you he knows,

Who will not crosly interpose,

But rather our good fortunes bless.

4.

He can't compell my will to thee,

'Tis to thee long agoe design'd;

This letter shews how I'm inclin'd,

If thou my Love be so to me.

5.

This message 'fir'd Don Ferdinand

With praise to me, and magnifies

Luscindas wit, above all that's wise,

But loves herfalse Lord underhand.

6.

I as a man design'd for ruine,

And one whose sorrows should be full,

My selfe invited in this gull,

My selfe th' usurper drew in.

7.

I made my secrets known, and told,

Why the kind summons of my love

I did not to her mind improve,

But for a season did with-hold.

8.

It lay upon my Fathers side,

To aske her of her yielding sire;

But had it Heaven bin to acquire,

I durst not mention't, nor confide.

9.

Not that Luscinda might not gain

(Without worldly additaments)

By personall vertues the descents,

And grace the noblest blood in Spain.

10.

But I knew well that no requests

Would on his will prevail, [...]'r since

Those Letters from our noble Prince

Call'd me to wait his high beh [...]sts.

11.

And filthy feare, I knew not why,

(But straws were blocks) did chill my heart,

[Page] That I could not my mind impart

With Fancy, that he would deny.

12.

Now sings a Nightingale, O hear!

Don Ferdinand will undertake,

Consenting Fathers both to make;

But O she signs not halfe the year!

13.

O Ioab false, Italian Lord!

Whose saying it was, qui nescit dissimulare nescit vivere. Alexander overheated with Greek wine, [...]lew his best Captaine, and friend Ephae [...]hon.

Vespasians tutor'd Favorite,

But Alexanders friends, sad plight

Will seize thee, and a Tyrants sword.

14.

O bloody Gyges, whom the King,

Candaules the King of Lydia discovered the naked excellencies of his wife to his Favourite, who made conscious to such a high secrecy, never left plotting (by his death) till he made himselfe more private with his admired spectacle.

(Candaules) gave a fatall view,

(Of what no wise man ere would shew)

And made his own a Gyges ring.

15.

Fond Lover, whosoe'r thou art,

Let not thy tongue thy Mistresse praise,

Such talke i'th' hearers lust doth raise,

'Tis pimping to a goatish heart.

16.

But shew her not (not to the blind)

Cupid is said to want his Eyes,

But yet about he wanton flies,

And doth the fairest pieces find.

17.

Be only mirrors to each other,

Viewing your selves in your owne Eyes,

(And fear least they should chance prove spies)

Your kisses too with kisses smother.

18.

So shall no envious person pine

At that he doth not see nor know,

And all the joyes will 'twixt you flow,

Which your own banks will safe confine.

19.

But I transgresse, and shall return

Unto Lord Ferdinand, whose care

Is now to send me from this aire,

Where he in fires of love doth burn.

20.

The better to effect his will,

A specious errand he contrives,

And in that missive a plot drives,

His hopes to raise, and mine to kil.

[Page]

21.

Six goodly horses now are bought,

But money from the Court must come,

(That any man should Court his doom!)

I this employment freely sought.

22.

He had his wish, and straight dispatcht

Letters unto his elder Brother,

But his intents from him did smother,

And in his papers mischiefe hatcht.

23.

I gave Luscinda short account,

Who wisht me make no tedious stay,

To ready minds naught is delay;

(The saying did to much amount.)

24.

But then I did perceive her eyes,

With liquid Pearle distent, and swell'd;

I never teare before beheld,

Which made me bode 'um prophesies.

25.

And so they prov'd, for in a shoure,

(A storme it prov'd in fine to me)

I left my sweet Captivitie,

And ne'r shall see good day nor houre.

26.

Pensive and sad I mount my Mule,

(My feares gave wings, and jealousie.)

The way was scarce seen under me,

So rode a mad deluded foole.

27.

And Ferdinand's Brother privatelie

With Letters I salute, who reads

The businesse, but no mony speeds,

Untill eight daies could finish'd be.

28.

Who laid commands that those eight daies,

(Unseen unto the Duke with him)

I should in joy and pleasure swimme,

And money he would private raise.

29.

And all this was the Artifice

Of trecherous Lord Ferdinand,

To winne his Brother to command

My stay, by feign'd necessities.

30.

Who could prevent, who could discover

Such [...]ubtle manag'd trechery?

[Page] That mought have I, that did not I,

A foolish, doting, senslesse Lover.

31.

Short of Lusc [...]da in my love,

My resolution not so high

(More like a spouse in modesty)

A coward too, in fine I prove.

32.

What could the pretty soule doe more?

(A soule surpriz'd, and forc' [...] by friends,)

To bring about our long'd for ends,

Then send, and rescue to implore?

33.

Luscindas Letter.

Don Ferdinand (writes she,) he doth act

So by the Father, (not for you)

That both the Heifer he will plow,

For the two Fathers are compact.

34.

And O that I must say such word,

He hath demanded me for wife,

But he shall aske, and get my life

As soon: Love can find out a sword.

35.

Ambition spurs my Father on

To have his daughter, Dutchesse stil'd,

That he doth urge as he were wild,

And yielded hath unto the Don.

36.

Two daies, (Cardenio) and but two,

(O thinke how nimbly time doth fly!)

Are 'twixt that dire solemnity;

Doe something, and that quickly too.

37.

Imagine my perplext estate,

One while o'rcharg'd with courtships high,

Then Fathers importunity,

And thus my wretched eares they baite▪

38.

If these arrive unto your hands,

They may prevent the giving mine,

Or that my lips should ever signe,

To say, I will be Ferdinand's.

39.

That word like to a daggers point

Wounded my heart, and drove from thence,

All the regard and reverence

I ow'd, and friendship did disjoint:

[Page]

40.

Got from the Court, I back did flye,

(For rage and feare my Mule did spurre)

And had a quick accesse to her,

Who at the grate did for me lye.

41.

That Iron grate, which oft hath heard

Our vowes and protestations,

(Were things of course and fashion)

Was now unto me double barr'd.

42.

For in a sad and dolefull tone

Luscinda said, (Cardenio)

I strait in these rich Dresses goe,

And must with Ferdinand be one.

43.

The Traytor Lord i'th' Hall attends,

My covetous Father there expects

My duty, which the worke effects,

Unlesse some poor reliefe me sends.

44.

But if I must my selfe relieve,

I have a Ponyard secret hid,

Which will the cursed Banes forbid,

And give me long and wish'd Reprieve.

45.

Dearest of living things be there,

And see thy Mayden sacrifice;

See how I will this Lord despise,

And name of Virgin Martyr weare.

46.

O persevere (soule of my soule)

And act according to thy word,

And see Cardenio weares a sword,

None shall my fury then controule.

47.

Then will I falshood falshood call,

And challenge Ferdinan'd to's face,

And have revenge upon the place,

For one or both that howre shall fall.

48.

So shall we both be join'd i'th' Urne,

And in eon Tombe we'l chastly lie,

The monuments of constancy;

Luscinda (while I speak) doth turn.

49.

Call'd to these cursed Nuptials,

So that I grop'd, (as in dark night)

[Page] Depriv'd of her vigorous light,

Till hate my fainting soule recals.

50.

Not as a Brideman, 'twas decreed,

To see this Pompe, but as a feind

With dismall torch, I shall attend

The issue of this cruell deed.

51.

Then to the Hall unseen I came,

The busie house was upward flown,

The Hall with various herbes was strown,

(It might have been for me the same.)

52.

Two courteous ends of Arras meet,

And gave me sight, and covert too,

That undiscern'd I saw the shew,

And how these lovely couple greet.

53.

False Ferdinand took first the Hall,

(A Field perchance to us't may prove

And 'tent of wrath, and not of Love)

Cloth'd in his common habits all.

54.

Then came Luscinda and her traine,

Rage made me blind, senselesse and mad,

I scarce took notice how sh'was clad,

But nothing was so fine in Spaine.

55.

Amongst these people [...]tood a thin

Lean man in blacke, and from his coat

He pluck'd a booke of common note,

And brush'd and cough'd, and did begin.

56.

He join'd their hands, and lowly bow'd,

Madam (said he) is it your mind,

With Lord Ferdinand to be join'd

In Wedlock, speak, and 'tis avow'd.

57.

My lengthened Eares did greedily watch,

What answer she would make, and while

I with her Negative beguile

My hopes, or that she would dispatch

58.

With Poniards point the fatall Scene;

My hand was still upon my hilt,

She order'd it, no blood was spilt,

And said I will! Was this her spleen?

[Page]

59.

And Ferdinan'd repli'd (I will,)

And going to salute his Bride,

A judgement just did her betide,

Whom Heaven for perjury did kill.

60.

For 'twixt her mothers knees shee fell,

And on her heart her hand was fixt,

That nothing could be got betwixt,

And gone she is, where none can tell.

61.

At last with spirits she got heat,

Which loos'd that false and mulcted hand,

And from her Breast Don Ferdinand

A letter caught, and did retreat.

62.

Which by the help of Torch he read,

But the Contents did not well please,

He sate him down in little ease,

The killing letter made him dead.

63.

He did forget to mind his spouse,

(To whom but now he gave his hand)

Nor could or life or speech command,

But sate dejected in the house.

64.

Judgements enough (if they be home)

If thou ne'r op [...] that trecherous mouth,

VVhence never issued word of truth,

(Said I) it is a happy doom.

65.

The house in tumult, I conveigh'd

My selfe unknown into the street,

VVhere no man me, I no man greet,

But walk like one wholly dismai'd.

66.

My Mule I got, and for the Fields,

And sight of Rocks, and Woods, and beasts

I now resolve, and count them blest,

VVho live in place that no men yields.

And just about the time, Mr Curate was bethinking.] A note of consolation would have been very unseasonable▪ especially in beating out such a story with worse matter. Then it was not certaine, whether Cardenio would hold in this temper; and so Mr▪ Curates word of comfort might meet with a word and a blow of reproofe. Thirdly, I believe that Mr Curate was not provided, and that's enough at any time, for a scape Sermon; the quilted cap the next Sababths day is Apologie for the indispositions and failings of the last. Fourthly, and to conclude indeed, another [Page] extraordinary pleasant voice, drew them all by the ears unto it. It was so ravishing a voice, that it was able to compose the troubled soule of Cardenio; who weary with the sad relation of his own Story, is now at leisure to heare this, which that it may gaine all its grace, the Author places us a roome off from the Musick, and only in this Booke, gives us the eccho and falling tunes; but in the next you shall have the fulnesse of the melody, the Beautie of the person, which he sufficiently invites us to, while he raises in us appetite, which will not be satisfied without tasting.

The end of the Third Book.

[Page]

FESTIVOVS NOTES VPON DON QUIXOT. BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

Our Shepheard shepheardesse, relates her hap,

What do you think it is! shee hath got a clap.

Lord Ferdinand as you have heard before,

Made bold to make this pretty rogue a whore;

'Tis pity shee is so; but being out-sworne,

Out-powr'd, out-worded, shee's at last o'rborne.

Her Father hath a Barne more to his Farme,

Good man, 'tis known my Lords, and there's no harme:

But Dorothea having lost her Fame,

Scornes to be Country talk, and peoples game;

Forsaken by her Lord, the Woods shee takes,

Hoping to meet with Cleopatra's Snakes,

Or any courteous Beast, would make a prey

Of her: But Woods nor cruell Beasts obey.

Instead of welcome dangers, her own Page,

(A rascall Varlet, scarce grown up to age)

Adventures on her chastity; but he

Thrown down a Rock, receiv'd his destinie.

Then to an antient Heard, (what age is free,

If fifteen be not, nor threescore and three?)

Shee was a servant, but the old Knave knew

Shee was not as she seem'd, but lustfull grew.

Flight was her refuge here, she now remaines

I'th' craggy part o'th' Mountaine, and complains

Of Lords, of Pages, and old doting Swaines.

TEXT.

PReface. Most happy and fortunate were those times, wherein the most audacious and bold Knight Don Quixot of the Mancha, was bestowed on the World.]

Faelix illa dies! quae magni Conscia partûs,

Quixotum terris, & tibi Mancha dedit.

[Page] Translated thus.

VVho knows the day of that illustr'ous Birth,

VVhen Quixot of the Mancha saw the Earth?

I doe believe, Garagantua and he were neer Contemporaries, or rather the Knight of the Sunne, by his parch'd face, but by his wild and wandring head, he should be more conv [...]rsant with the Knights of the moon, who every moneth, in some Region or other, drop from the Orbe, and play feats in this. In the Register of the Mancha there is nothing to be found but these Letters, and these with much Art preserv'd. Hab: Lunat: Quix: Anno ante Orb: Cond. p. 10.

A voice said very dolefully, these words ensuing.] Let it be if you please a Drawlery upon it, for it is very sad and long, and it may be you long to be merry.

Dorothaea's Description.

Shee'd got (poor soule) among the craggy Rocks,

And is discover'd by her silver locks;

Her argent haire, which all beholders caught,

Entrapp'd her selfe, and to her sex her brought.

She would a boy been thought, but her pure feet,

(Then which nothing so strait, nothing so neat,

Nothing so cleare: For to the bathing wench

And'bout her legs the fish plaid as a Tench.)

Confess'd her woe too plain, 'twas worth ones wish,

To have a Lasse, that caught both flesh and fish:

Iust like a Plow-boy tir'd in a browne Iacket,

And Breeches round, long lethern point (no Placket)

With her high shooes, her Buskin fashion'd hose,

Halfe of her Alabaster legs disclose:

Her head a rusty cap did hide, and as

She lifts it up, her face proclaims a Lasse

So beautifull, that rapt Cardenio sweares,

Since not Luscinda, 'tis not as' [...] appeares.

I would have sworne as much, had I been there;

But after this shee combed out her haire,

What was her Ivory combe [...]d' you think? her hand,

Which ran so nimbly at her sole command,

That in an instant she had spred her haire,

You could not see a person to be there;

As in a thicket of rich Silk VVorms worke,

Or twisted Sun-beame, her nice Corps do lurk

Vnseen, unlesse the amorous Wind did sunder

The even lines, and shew within more wonder.

All which circumstances did possesse the three that stood gazing at her with great admiration, &c. Therefore they resolv'd to shew themselves.] Mr C [...]r [...]t had no Crosse-worke against this sight, it drove him not to his Pater-nosters, nor his Beads; but the most magnetick piece wrought vertually upon him, and so strongly, that he could no longer be at so remote a distance, [Page] but was for a contactus, which is more naturall; and if matters hit right for a contractus, which is more spirituall as to the Eclesiasticall Court; but nos inter nos very Carnall. Mr Barber was so smitten at the looks of her, that his eyes smarted as if he had washt 'um (open) in his sweet bals: And O the mischance! how he laments the want of his puffings (or head-bellows) to powder his Perruke; nor had he at present any [...]spertaminis for his upper Lip: Yet he would shew himselfe a man of his hands, and arme her from the River. Cardenio also, but that his rude and tatter'd Ruines discourag'd him, would not have been the last at this Ceremonie, but they all ranne from their Covert hastily, and rusht upon her, which put her to a short flight, and presently to a fall; for her tender plants were of a more choice and pure earth, then that shee trod on, and unable to endure their roughnesse. But she was presently supported by the Curate, who (as if he had been beginning his Sermon, à lapsu primae parentis) said, Lady (for so your hair unwilling to your self) discovers you) it is incident from our Mother Eve, for your sexe to fal: and so regaining her feet, desired her to be constant to them, & put them to no farther disease to themselves, but to setle her a little discomposed spirits, when she should perceive, she was fallen upon such, that hoped their persons were rather to be approach'd to, then fled from. Here the Barber should have acted, but the Curate being the fluenter man (except when Mr Cutbert was in his suds and snaps) had the happinesse to hand her, and have the advantage of her care to convey his Consolatories, Suasories, Depre-colories, and the like fragments of his profession, untill he had appeas'd her totally, and brought her to that calmnesse, that she was willing to take a stone, the naturall stools of the place, and Mr Parson inviting his companions with his—vivo sedilia Saxo,

To accept those living seats of stone,

Which grow without a cushion;

They all incompass'd their delicate Orator, who confirm'd in her resolution, began her Story.

Dorothaeas Tale.

There lives a Duke in Andaluzia,

Grandees they call them, (if I right doe say)

Who had two sons, the eldest of great hopes,

The yonger, such as those they call crack-ropes▪

A wicked Lord, as e'r wore Spanish leather,

Gawdy as Sun-shine, light as any feather,

And divelish handsome, set out too with clothes,

With which he takes fools eyes, their ears with oaths:

His businesse was, his plots, designes, and carking,

To abuse poor maides, a very very Tarquin.

My Father farm'd of the great Duke his Father

Much Lands, from whence you very well may gather,

How bold the Lordling made, for he plaid Revell-

Rout, when he came, and laid the Towne all levell.

All were his Fathers Tenants, who made bold

Upon a priviledge in dayes of old,

[Page] (Which the gyrles knew not) of Purgandos Renes,

And so he came by many wicked venies,

Which the old Lords had long time left undone,

And was the drudgery of the yong'st sonne:

But other breeding, then the Parish maidens,

(VVhich to the Market went with country Tradings)

My Father gave to me, beside the ruling

Of all his house, I had no time for fooling;

For either I was busie in the Dairy,

To see cleane worke, that stroakings were not hairy;

Their Churnes and Presses neat, there was no clutt'ry

In Pantry, Milk-house, dairy, nor in Butt'ry.

I had accoutrements and proper dresses,

For all employments; now for the wine-presses

Anon for oyle-Mils, then among the Hives,

(And was as busie as those winged Thieves.)

Our House, nor theirs, afforded Drones; two servants

One of each sex (i'th' Family the fervent'st)

Alwayes attended me, and by those paire

I sent my Embassies to every eare:

I order'd, and 'twas don [...]; there was no Dutchess

Had a more cleare Command within her clutches.

If that the day afforded any leisure,

It was not spent in giggling and in pleasure:

I and my Maidens at the dista [...]fe sit,

Contending, who the finest thread could spit;

Or else the bones we ratled for the grace

Of the most exquisite and smallest Lace:

And for our worke with needles, we could venter

To shew Arachne sitting in her center

Amongst her home-spun Orbs, and lines, and thence

Shee moves from Center to Circumference.

Or his dread piece, who mulcted was for peeping,

While Nymphs their bodys in cold bath were steeping:

And then transformed into a stately Buck,

To dye by his owne dogs had the ill luck.

That selfe enamour'd Sir we also wrought,

VVho in a wat'ry looking-glasse was caught,

And to the mens perpetuall jeer and laughter,

Extinguisht was, and set on fire by water.

VVeary of worke, I forthwith went to play

Upon the Harp or Lute, so spent the day;

Musick reviv'd my Spirits, and at night

I was as bonny, as at morning light.

Abroad I went not, but unto the Masse,

And [...]hen so hooded, to tell who I was

My selfe knew not, untill uncas'd; the Priest

Confess'd, and did absolve me in [...] mist:

[Page] All was not care enough, this would not cover

Nor hide my beauties from a Goatish Lover,

(Lord Ferdinand)

—Thereat Cardenio rose,

As if he had t [...]' [...]e pepper in the nose;

That very name did make him sweat, and stand,

As if his fit of frenzy were at hand.

But he did only sweat, which cool'd the Barber

And Curate too, who leering were for harbour,

If the mad fit had seiz'd him: It fell out,

Cardenio prov'd faire Company this 'bout.

Never was man so smitten as this Lord,

He knew no [...] how to look, or speak a word

At first, but once having found out the way,

The Devill himselfe coud not the Lord Out-say,

Out-Court, out-promis'd, sweare, out-bribe, out-ly;

He forc'd me double guard my chastity.

For I was now to looke to my owne Trenches,

I know not how he had wonne upon my wenches,

They were his spokes-women, and high Abetters,

And alwaies scatter'd's praise, or scatter'd's Letters;

What should poor Virgin doe? they praise, he begs,

I'm left alone, to stand on my owne legs;

I must confesse the flatterie of his letters,

Would have inclin'd Ladies, by farre my betters;

And what was I, that I should be so coy,

(Alas my heart to read 'um oft did joy!)

But I did fear, and so my Father told me,

(And bid me when that I was well, there hold me.)

He meant no good, for all his deep protesting,

Keep out his head, for he would bring the rest in;

Then he contriv'd to match me out of hand,

To one of equall yeares, and equall Land,

VVhich was more sutable then those high courses:

But yet I han [...]kred after Coach and horses,

To be my Lady call'd, a Dutchesse daughter

I often wisht, and entertain'd with laughter.

But Ferdinand had fisht out thy poor plot,

VVith silver angling all the truth he got;

And in a night, the Chamber doore being shut,

Unlesse 'twere after open'd by the slut

That waited there, or that he had a key,

(For that he had, I think for any way)

As I was halfe undrest, this lustfull Lord

Unbrac'd before me stands, I'd not a word

To say, not did th' unhappy wench cry out;

(Shee knew too well what he was come about)

[Page] But Ferdinand, most full of raptures high,

Caught me in his armes incontinently;

And with such strict embraces did me round,

And sware and kiss'd, and wish't him all confound.

He meant to marry me, and ne'r would alter,

Then kiss'd the Missall (thats our Ladies Psalter)

And me againe, then made Imprecations,

(More then the King of Spaine hath Nations)

And then us'd whining too, all sort of cunning

(Tundo a credulous poor maides down running:

I gave him re [...]son, how the Duke his Father,

Then marry me, would see him hanged rather,

Twould be his owne, mine, and my friends undoing;

But he for all my words, ne'r gave off sueing.

Then catching up our Ladies Image, sware,

That all his purposes were chast and faire.

And though he did anticipate his pleasure

This night, he would appropriate the treasure

Next day unto himselfe, then begg'd and whin'd,

(Alasse too much to one so well inclin'd)

And having swore my maid out, and the lights,

We did what Lords and Ladies doe anights.

The morne too soone beganne a blush to me,

Which I return'd to him in bed with me,

Who startled at the double purple light,

Rose up in such a huddle, as the night

(It was not so to me) had been unpleasan [...];

Surely it was not, though we had no ease in't.

My maid conspir'd his farewell too, to hasten,

(That very maid that in my study plac'd him.)

Just like an Epicure, or greedy fellow,

H' has had what he came for, and so farewell ho;

But yet his farewell was not quite uncivill,

For he did wish himselfe unto the Devill,

If he did break his faith, or fail'd to tarry

A moneth at full, before that he did marry.

Then in exchange, a ring of noble price

He drew from off his finger in a trice,

And slipt it upon mine, and strait was going,

But I did think, there something more was ovving:

I dropt a teare, and kiss'd him, and then I told him,

He saw full well, I was not given to scolding;

For my false maide I scarce had chid, who hid him,

Though not unwelcome, yet a guest unbidden;

And (Sr) said I, though now you make no stay,

Forget not (good my Lord) to know the way.

All this prevail'd, but for one nights stay more,

He could have done no lesse unto his Whore:

[Page] I prest for's company, he gave deniall;

I askt him, if he tooke me upon tryall:

He sware, he try'd and lik'd, and lik'd [...]o high,

He could upon the circumstances dye.

Nay prithee live (said I) and returne speedy,

Fish that on gravell use to play are greedy.

He smil'd and vanisht, but I know not whither,

At me he came not, nor in publicke neither.

A moneth I spent in wat'ring of my Pillow,

And then bethought me of a Garland willow;

Then the false Damsell, that conveyed this Traytor,

I ratled, but yet kept her for my wayter;

Shee knew too much to be discharg'd, a Trustee

Of such concealements, alwaies flatter'd must be.

But I was troubled most, (my eyes being blubber'd)

For publike meales, I often fed at Cup-board.

But anger, sorrow, and all passions bulg'd

Into themselves, for a report divulg'd,

That my Don Formidand had found fresh litter,

(I did not wonder how he came to get her)

One nam'd Luscinda: and that they were bedded,

That mov'd me not; but this, that they were wedded.

But yet Cardenio star'd and champt and wond'red,

And wisht, the Devill had their bodies sund'red.

And forthwith having brib'd for Page a Swaine,

Unto Luscindas Towne we trudge amaine.

But there the Bels could not proclaime't i'th' steeple,

Higher then 'twas i'th' noise of common people.

From one of them I heard, that on the espousals

That night Luscinda frighted all the housholds.

She fell into a swoone, but dropt a writing,

All as he swore of her owne hand inditing,

Wherein in lamentable case she shews,

Shee long time since was our Cardenios;

(Ours I can't call him now, for young man, he

Is gone, alasse, we know not where he be.

Shee did renounce those later bands, that she

Could not without disloyall perjury

Be any others, if they would goe on-ward,

Shee'd end the businesse with a bloody Ponyard.

Thus much the Hind related; then a person

Of better ranck, on Ferdinand fell fierce on,

And said, that He deluded of his Lust,

With her own dagger would have given a thrust,

And kill'd his spouse, but the vile wretch was hindred,

By those then present, parents and her kindred.

[Page] 'Twas time time to flie, this eminent disgrace,

Made my sham'd Lord, he durst not shew his face.

It was a day before Luscinda strengthned,

And then the story of her vows shee lengthened

To her abused Paronts, who requested

To be forgiven, but she was then close breasted,

And spake but little; and a few dayes after

The house was full of tears, they'd lost their daughter.

'Twas worth my journey this, I tarried

To finde my spouse was yet unmarried;

"Foole as I was that had no knife nor dagger,

"But if I had my doubtfull hand would stagger

"What it should doe! slay me, the innocent?

"And why slay him, if that he honest meant?

CHAP. II.

While tame Cardenio Dorothaea courteth,

And to new stratagems the Dame exhorteth,

Resolving both upon returnes; the Curate

Offers to wait, the Barber not obdurate,

Proffers like service. But harke Sancho Pancas

Runs Onching round the mountaine like a ranck- [...]sse,

Braying for's Company; The Barber whistles,

At last they meet, and jeer each others Bristles,

Oxe taile, and Shotto [...]er. Sancho related,

How that the Don was neer exenterated,

Meagre and wanne, with hollow Cheeks sharp gullet,

Che [...]t like a dog-fed horse, legs like a Pullet.

Never (more) Knight of the Ill favour'd face;

But now he was the naked [...]night o'th' place:

Fit for some Physick-schoole, where he might stand

To shew his parts, he is a muscle man.

A Counsell strait is a call'd, and Madam Doll

Micomicona doth her selfe install.

(An injur'd Aethiopian Princess)

Who beaten out of all her owne Provinces,

Must crave Don Quixots aid: Shee strait accoutres;

Curate and Barber being adjutors

Unto her hig [...]nesse; Sancho is perswaded

It is a Queen, that comes for to be aided

By his great Master; so the plot is laid,

Sancho doth foot it, Barber's on the jade:

The Queen i'th' middle, and at last they finde

This wondrous Knight, not like one of Man-kinde:

The Queen makes knowne her wofull case; the Don

Cals for his Armes ('twas well his cloths were on)

His Armour clapse; they carry this lank sinner,

The nearest way they can unto a dinner.

[Page]

TEXT.

THE Audients of her Story, felt both pitty and admiration.] The Auditors eyes did even runne over with water at Dorothaeas Story, but that shee restrained the woman in them, with the woman before them, who was so lovely, that she scatter'd nothing but cheerfull influences upon her beholders. Shee made griefe and sorrow amiable, insomuch that Mr Licentiat was upon premeditation still before he spake to her, and did not play the Priest adventure, nor vent his extemporary fancies upon her. A compos'd piece of his office in the point of comfort no doubt was instantly to issue forth, when—

Cardenio taking her by the hand, said at last, you are daughter to the rich Cleonardo.] I had thought Cardenio would never have been knowne; but now he will disclose himselfe, which he might easily doe, for he had scarce a rag to his taile, and gives her the naked truth, that he was that [...]ame piece of flesh, who stood more like the Arras, then the Tapestry it selfe, while a perjured friend, made bold with his Lady before his face. Dorothaeas managery of her matters, was farre more ingenious and commenda [...]le, who was not a thorough loser, she got what was to be got, and though she lost the Principall, shee had good consideration. What hath Cardenio to excuse himselfe from the extreame scarre of a Coward? who having his hand on his hilt, and plac'd as in ambuscado for the Stratagem of revenge, expected the word from his Ladies dying groane. Her Ponyard must whiffle to his Toledo. A living pudding is better then a dead Lyon; (quoth Dorothaea,) and let all Grandees of Spaine (for they delight therein) like the Proverb, and use it for ever.

Then I will use the liberty granted to me as a gentleman, and in just title challenge him to the field.] Dorothaea might have smil'd, or rather suspected his fidelity, that her beautie should prove a Beutefeu greater then Luscindas, and inspire more valour into him, then he did shew for his owne incroachments; no challenge sent to Don Ferdinand, for the usurpation of his spouse, though done under his nose; and why such a cock of the game in her vindication? Certainly he had an aguish fortitude, [...]nd it came upon him by fits, when it concern'd him most, at his own cornuting, the cold Paroxisme held him, and the hot and Feavourish at present. It was true indeed, the Lady whose defences he undertakes, was worthy of an Herculean Vindex, and one (that had these tilting times been worthy of) must have wrote her selfe the Mistresse of some short Catalogue of slaine, or perisht Kings servants (a very great honour I can tell yee.) And here now were hint an occasion enough for a discourse upon Duels, whether they be a piece of justifiable fortitude? without the consideration of Christan laws made against it, or any impresses of the divine Prohibition in the soule, created in, and to love, and originally interdicted revenge and violence. If you come with these arguments into the schoole of defence or repu [...]ation, you are said presently to smell of the Coward. But if you come fortified with Cain's Jaw bone, and will maintaine a challenge good against your own brother, not of the sword only, but nature, then you [Page] are of the right flame, a brother of the Jaw-bone. The arguments on both sides are very strong; the Hectors relye upon their blades, manus ad capulum: It is enough to signifie the challenge, and the cause too, and the Law is as strict, and punctuall too. Caput ad Laqueum, which is enough to intimate the crime and the punishment. But I have but one argument against Duellers at this time. Why doe the Hectors themselves fly for the same? They will say, for feare of the Law; why then let them finde out a place, where there is no Law against it? that the brother-hood say, is in terra Incognitâ they could never heare of any such place; then certainly if all people and Nations punish it, it is not only unlawfull, but unnaturall and morally evill; and what no people allow in generall, no one should dare to doe in particular. The Tragedies of Dorothaea, and Cardenio, are more lamented (the more's the pitty) feined Romances are bewail'd, and Philaster bleeding in love, when a true really slaine Gentleman shall not find a teare; but a dispute, whether he fell nobly, made a right thrust, or lay too open, or had his hat, doublet, band, and spurs off? These are the requisite punctilios before his lying downe in the bed of honour. It may be the cause of the quarrell is by some askt after, by a thousand related, and by never a man the same way. A sad case (my friends) when a man shall perish, and goe no man knows whither, and taken off no man knows why. Homicidia in mendacio flemus, in vero postulamus. 'Twas said of those daies, when Emperors expos'd the live-bodies of their slaves, to be Prizes with Beasts, and one another, then the voice was at those Amphitheatrall Butcheries; A man after he had subdued one beast. Play him again, clapping and applauding, when the Beast was victorious.

So we can weep at fained Tragedies,

And look upon true Murders with dry eyes.

This is a little too serious; the next note brings a foole in, and then we shall be merry againe.

It was Sancho Pancas, who, because he found them not in the place where he left them, cryed out lowdly.] He might have cried bread and meat for the Lords sake, (for his halfe starv'd Lords sake) who with hunger and cold had almost put an end to his Errantry. He cried, and his Knights belly rung noon, and the wood rung of them all; and now they have Sancho in a ring, and round him, untill he have made his Mr as ridiculous as himself. The whimsy of the Knight, is to be cured with another whimsy, as they say, set a fool to catch a fool; a Proverb not of that gravity (as the Spaniards are,) but very usefull and proper. For example sake: An English Lord kept a Fool, a very naturall, who being displeasur'd at some ill usage of the Family, absented himselfe so long, that the Lord was much troubled lest he should have made himselfe away; others thought he might be gone in a visit to a neighbour fool some few miles off. The Lord sent thither to enquire, and withall, to intreat that Fool over, (in case he was not there) to their house. Fooles are soon intreated, especially the servant telling him, that his Couzen had been missing many daies; al's one for that quoth Tonie, I'll find him out, ne'r feare Coz. At last they came to the Lords house, and all of them, Lord, Lady, servants of both sexes ran out to the Foole, and wofully lamented the losse of Tonie, who was as good as meat to their bellies. Coz Tonies cryed, get ye all to prayers on your backs you long [Page] coates (speaking to the women) my Coz is safe enough, he is too wise for you. Then the foole was ranger of the whole house, and in every place he came, he cried, O Coz, Coz, are you there. I see you well enough? Thus having travers'd the best Chamber; at last he came to the Cocklofts, and with a more hearty and confident noyse then in other places, he cried, ha Coz have I found you, I see you, that I doe. The other foole had unpil'd some wood, and lay behind it, then his Coz cried out againe, I see him, I see him, in very joyfull acclamation: Whereat his counterpart said from his lurking hole, O but you don' [...]: The noise directed them to the place, whence out they pluckt him, halfe starv'd, for he had there but wooden entertainment; but the Cook got him some spoon meat for his Coz and himselfe, and they were very well satisfied. Such a dish now hot in the Plaine, where Don Quixot acted more then the Knight of the Naked Arme, would have put an end to the play, and all the bitter usage of Dulcinea would have been forgot in a Lethe of settle-braine; wherein if they had slic'd some of the leafes of the two books, wrote de veritate, amongst the chippings, it might have been enough to reduce him (without the neat designe of Dorothaea) to his naturall temper, from having ever any credence in lying Romances.

Dorothaea said that shee would counterfeit the distressed Lady better then the Barber.] The Barber might have done much, if he had his wife to attire him, and set him out in Ladies combings; but I doe not think shee would ever have let him shav'd off his Mustachoes for the matter, it being the only hold she had, (for his haire of his head was but thinne) when shee found occasion to pull him to her pleasures, or from the Alchouse to his paines. Let him be honest Oxen-sterne, the Lady Nicomiconas servant with the checquer'd Beard, which signified much feare in him, or from him. Pray Heaven, the Don in his rambling fancy take him not for Cacus the Gyant, that robb'd those honest men the Grasiers, and cozen'd Polyphem, (the Monophthalmos, and Gyant of the single Eye) drawing politiquely his Cattle backward to his owne Cave; so that Polyphem tracking their step [...] to the donne, could find nothing but hoofes revers'd from the Cave. A hundred to one but he hits on't, and takes this long pendent on his chin, for some glew'd on Trophie of his beastly victories: If he should hanck upon it, there's like to be no quietnesse without a Rumpe to the taile.

And through the great Fame which is spread over all Guinea, of the Lords Prowesse, this Princesse is come to finde them out.] Sancho replyed, what that fat and plentifull Kingdome, (whence the Guiny Pigs come) doth this Lady with her selfe submit to my Don? O Mary Gutierez, live and be fat! and let thy Children all be fatlings; those pretty Guiny Pigs-nies shall live about thy bed-chamber, and thou shalt lie upon thy pallat, and call to thy cook-maid, and say, dresse me that Squeeker for my breakfast, I'll eat it before I rise, and the rest of the litter shall be small Musick to me, while I feed; it shall be so Mol, and fell a capering, as if he had one in his belly. But Mr Curate told him, these Guinea Pigs which he meant, were Shelves of gold melted, refin'd, and made into wedges, Pigs and Bars, that Mary Gutierez and her whole family, could not lift one from the ground. One of these would buy the Manchas Hogge-heards whole drove, Dams and all.

[Page] My master hath no kinde of power over Spirits.] The Don could never worst any thing that had a Spirit. The Windemils had a Spirit that threw my Mr in Confagum Lunae, (as they say) and he was never in his wits since. Certainly he was toss'd or carried beyond the temperate Regiment of the aire, among the blust'ring, thund'ring, and fiery boyes, for ever after he despis'd Land encounters; he smelt my thought, as if he had been sing'd at his fall, or of somewhat of a hot aire. So that (great Queen) for this businesse of Guinea, if you have not a man of Spirit in it, he will make no more to conquer it, then he would to eat an Orenge, though his stomack is sharp enough at present without any Incentives. Lady, he shall destroy all except the Pigs, with which your Dominions abound. May you, and my Lord people it from your owne Loines againe; (all but that part of the Dominion, which you bestow upon you humble, [...]ut doughty servant, Sancho Panchas of the Mancha) and my Lady Moll shall serve your Highnesse, (not amongst the maides of Honour) but chiefe Princesses of your Kingdome, in the office of holding up your traine, or the cloose stoole, wherein shee is very tendable, and handy. I have more of the litter, if you please to grace 'um; but when I and Moll shall come to feed on Pigs, we shall multiply beyond the rate of the creatures we eat, and have subjects of my own begetting, of my owne loines, in such a number, that it will be fit for your Highnesse to transplant them for Colonies, and send them into the wide world for a living. Thus is the fool transported, taking Mr Licentiat for the Queen, and out of apprehension of he knows not what, he talks to he knows not whom.

At last they discovered him amongst a company of intricate Rocks, all apparell'd, but not Armed.] Sancho was to blame, [...] let his Mr be thus surpriz'd without his Armes on, his long pennance having withdrawn his body from the full extension of his clothes many a handfull, so that he look'd as if he had been in a sack, or a scarcrow, rather then a man. So improper an oversight was never committed by a Squire of the body: Insomuch, tha [...] the Don in the beginnings of his adventures, providently would not suffer his Armes to be all taken off, when he repos'd, but slept in the Helmet. To unmartiall the whole man, and leave him without steel or iron upon him, is, as if you should pare the nailes of a Lyon, strip a Beare of her skinne, rob a Fox of his taile, dishonour a Cock of his spurrs: That is to Caponize the gallant spirit of the Creature, and to render him lesse formidable to his Antagonists. A Knight-Erra [...]t without Armes on? credentne posteri?

I will not answer you a word, nor heare a jot of your affairs, Faire Lady (quoth Don Quixot) untill you arise from the ground.] It is much that he is not on his Knees too; for he was scarce able to stand on his Legs, which (if his Arms had been on) had not been so visibly flexible; for the Don through weaknesse bow'd ever and anon, and recompens'd her kneeling, with continuall unavoydable cringes, which made him appeare the most courtly Knight upon the earth. The case was plaine, for he was not able to raise her up with his hands, but she expected his gracious word of mouth, which was stronger alwaies then his Armes or Legs, and promised a great deale more.

[Page] I doe give and grant it, quoth Don Quixot, so it be not a thing that may turn to the damage or hinderance of my King or Country, &c.] A very loyall exception: Three obligations which he had forfeited over and over, and yet to see the tendernesse of his Conscience in a point which he so often violated. This faithfull lover of his Prince, is under privy search of the Holy Brotherhood, for the rescue of his Majesties slaves sent to the Gallies. The Country was full of hues and cries for the adventure of the sheep, which his Manchegan Farme would not satisfie. The Helmet of Mambrino, was the poor Village-Barbers goods, which he took to arrest him for, as he past the Towne; the present subsistance, which Sancho (his Receiver and Treasurer had) were the spoiles of Cardenio's Port-Mantle, beside the severall Hostes, (his unwilling Creditors) who intended to dis-Rosinante him, and send him home Knight-Errant on foot, if he paid not, what his Squire and Himselfe had eaten. Lastly, for his obligation to his Lady, there was no feare, but of himselfe: For who could damnify her, who had nothing to lose, not so much as credit? and for his personall injury to her, he had sufficiently done it in his Pennance, which had so mortified the man in him, that all the wealth he had would not repaire him into a reasonable proportion of night-service, which if he faile in, Dulcinea was like to Orlando him, though it were by his Squire Sancho.

And therefore hands to the worke, for (they say) that danger alwaies followed delay.] Concluded most Heroically! 'twas well to call for hands, (and more hands then thine owne) or else the worke would be very ill done. Yet I think in this point Sancho's opinion was right, (that it was a matter of nothing) for there being no such Queen, and no such Kingdome, the Squires word is here to b [...] taken, and the Don's Proverbe of delay proves dangerous, is infeebled, for the lesse speed, or a festina len [...]è were farr [...] more safe and easie; but hands to the work however, and at length restore the Queen to her legs, for shame that ever such a decrepit Knight should undertake so chymaericall employments, and is not able to relieve a Lady from her Knees. It was not want of humanity in him, but strength, saith our Author. Fasting is an ill preparative for a Ball, and the Don was (notwithstanding his sniffeling example of Amadis Du Gaull, or any other puling Knight) in a wrong course to reconcile himselfe by abstinence to any distasted Lady, especially such an hirudinous and extracting Lady, as Dulcinea; who would have tir'd Hanibals Army, after he had rested a moneth in Capua, being of a larger size then Messallina, and vaster desires. This next civility will drowne all that is past, for he will not permit the Queen to kisse his hand, but keeps them in his pockets, and cannot be constrain'd upon those termes to draw 'um forth.

But it grieved Sancho to thinke that the Kingdome was in the Countrey of Blackamores.] It was not just cause of griefe; (Sancho) for if your primogenitors be not belied, the generall smutch you have, was once of a deeper black, when they came from Mauritania into Spaine, and the protuberancies of your lips both alike: Now indeed your teeth are not so white, nor your faces so black, though the Don by his Pennance, had reduc'd himselfe almost into a Moore, and to his most Ill-favour'd Face, had most cleane teeth. But Sancho, were it not a more profitable and lesse cruell design, (then that of selling 30 or 40 thousand in a morning into Spaine for slaves) [Page] to try a piece of experience, and since every man has two coates to his back, (that is two skins Sancho) an upper and an under, that thicker, to keep off the injury of aire-blows, and the like, the under, finer, and lighter like a summer coat. Flay therefore (Sancho) the tougher upper skinn off, and send them by Ship-loads into all other Countries, (where solemnities for Funerals are used) and you may drive a mightie trade for mourning gloves, mourning saddle-clothes, and mourning buff, and Pantoffles for Ladies, after they'r covered with gold lace; (for no skinne is softer then the Moores Sancho) thus Sancho you save the subjects in a whole skin, though not two, and the second skin proving white, you will have your Country call'd Albion, and your people Whites, not from the colour of their Sands, but their owne strange Metamorphosis. Your selfe call'd Blancho, that is the Faire, or Pharo, who was an Aethiopian Prince before you, that is, King of the Whites.

Mr Curate was an ingenious and prompt plotter, and took out of his case a paire of sheares, and cut off Cardenio's Beard therewith, all in a trice.] Sr John is turn'd John of all trades, Clericus & Laicus, a brace of Elders and a Presbyter, bound up in one Volume, the Tailor, Barber, and Licentiat; well (Sr) exercise your gifts; Cardenio's Beard is the first point to be handled, which being exorbitant and unfit for the Congregation, by the Scissars of authority, was reform'd into a more brotherly cut. Exit Tonsor; enter Taylor with a Capouch and a long cloake, wherein having drest the yong Gentleman, he resembled a little Levite so handsomely, that in the e [...]suing passages he might hope to be Chaplaine to the Queen of Micomicona; Mr Licentiat is left in Querpo, as if in Zeale he had preach'd his upper garment off, or else parted with them, when Duke D' Alva was beaten out of the low Countries, in the heat of that Reformation.

But notwithstanding the Barber was so affrighted, as he fell to the ground with so little heed to his Beard.] By a Synecdoche of partis pro toto, the Oxe taile being fallen to the ground, we may say Bos procumbit humi, for both lay together; nay downe fell Mr Licentiat also, and so the old three may lie together, Bos, Fur, atque Sacerdos. 'Twas too much for a hackney to carry treble, they seldome are true to one; but Mr Curate must now shew his skill, or Mr Nicholas, for all his two handed chin-cover will be found no Squire to the Queen of Micomicona, and then all's discovered, for the Don wondring at the Squires sheere losse of his Beard, said, no Barber could have done it with so fine a slight of hand. He would profane an Agnus for an Oxe taile, but murmur'd some few words over the Squire; strange! the Beard came to the Face, or the Face to the Beard, none knowes which put the Don upon a request, that he might have that prayer against his evils; for no doubt if it were chin-proofe, it was tooth-proofe and limbeproofe, and easier carriage then the Bals amum Fierebras.

Let me intreat you Mr Curate, the occasion which hath brought you hither to these Quarters so alone, &c. You shall understand, &c. read on, ad finem capitis.]

Here Mr Curate is put to a grand case of Conscience, whether in point of urgent necessities, as the saving of a mans life from perils of robbers, or any other accident, (legally to be permitted) or from an obstinat melancholy in a person, sworne and devoted to ruine himselfe, and Family, in such a case for a majus beneficium or bonum Reipublicae, or to ones owne selfe, wheth [...]r [Page] the lips of the preacher is alwaies to preserve truth? If the frequency of lying might excuse it, it hath justification enough. He answers his mentall objection mentally, and saith, In [...]oro, coram Iudice, in Pulpito, coram Episcopo, in rebus litem dirimentibus, he is substantially, really, and verily to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth; but in extrajudiciall cases, (not ordinarily so) but such alwaies which infer a publike or a private good end: The Licentiat was satisfied that he might transgresse the beaten path of truth, and take that way which made most expedition to his honest design in hand, and reckons those matters amongst the peccadillo's and venialia, which never come into the black book. But Mr Curat, by your leave, your slight transgression, is one of the lowdest lies, that ever I heard of; vvhat, seventy thousand Ryals of eight sent for a token? what, Ships for a Convoy? But (cry you mercy) it may be Mr Licentiat was allyed to Dego, Mr Lopez his Sexton, whose estate was incredible, and investigable by his executor; but happily some slight moiety is discovered, which our Indian friend very kindly sends for a token, a small remembrance of his love to his affected, though some 106 yeares posthumus Kinsman Mr Licentiat of the Mancha. The second lie is so mixt with divinity, that with a little inlargement it might have serv'd for a homily of charity, taken in the example (in the same case) of the Traveller, who fell among Thieves; and questionlesse with the Pathetick expressions, which he was singular at, the Manchegan could not choose but melt into pity and reliefe, as is ordinary upon the Ladies side, and that's the moving side that carries all; but the severe rebukes end all in a generall pardon, (which though the Don intended not to confesse the crime) he resolv'd to make use of, and said Amen to himselfe and the prayer.

CHAP. III.

The Queen of black Micomicon relates

A story blacker then her present Fates;

And in such tragick words her matter dresses,

The Don is more inrag'd then Captaine Bessus;

Whose Diary for dinners, and for Duels,

The Don did like, but of Knight-Errants few-els:

The want of which, caught in a humming lie,

The Knight that fought byth' clock at Shrewsberry.

The Don had kept a Register, and did set downe

What Gyant must be fought that day; what Towne

Reliev'd; what Castle batter'd; all was there,

But that he durst not shew the Register.

They were Cardenio's Tablets, whose good Mantell,

Had furnisht 'um with many a savoury Cantell:

(Another Postill for the Curate.) Don

Grants all, and strait is for Micomicon.

[Page] Conquers before he sees: successefull Caesar

Did never such stupendious acts as these are.

Then like a gallant Knight at the last closing,

He leaves her person to her own disposing.

He scorn'd to make her prize, and give her Kingdome;

This dumpt poore Sancho, as' [...] had been a thing-done,

And happy it had been, had he been mute:

For while he doth Dulcinea's face confute,

Inraged Quixot at his Ladies trumps,

Tilts Sancho downe, and leaves him on his stumps.

Vntill the Queen her grace came interceding,

Sancho for love of her lay foulely bleeding:

All laws of Errantry forgot, his fire

Was blown so high, he would have kill'd his Squire.

But pacisyed by her (whose conquering looks,

Wins more then swords) they now are for the Cooks.

Yet Sancho growl'd, untill at last a bl [...]ssing

Beyond his thoughts, makes him forget his threshing.

Gines Passamont besmear'd with soot and blacking,

With Sancho's Asse unto a Fare was packing;

The quick-eyed Bore had spied him, and unass'd-him,

And in his armes most kindly he compass'd him,

And kiss'd his brother Animall; what passes

You shall hereafter read betwixt these Asses.

TEXT.

I Advised him that he should see well what he did, and that it was a 'sin to deliver them.] To what purpose is it for a wise Lord to contrive and plot well, and have trecherous servants, fellows that are conscience-toucht with a Sermon? such timorous Rogues are not fit for noble ingagements. The Don (you see) could heare all this learned Homily, as an unconcerned person, such a one is right, and if need be, he could raile against the villanie himselfe committed, the lesse suspected still; or if big enough, owne it, justify it, the more feared, the more obeyed he is. But for this unserviceable Squire, with his confession, (his sordid simple confession) he deserves to be requited with the Proverbs, and the Don for his stout silence, and politick carelessenesse, in minding the story of the Slaves, is fit to be a proverbe, and adage of concealement and secrecy for ever. Bottle-head was too good a word for him, unlesse it were an Ale bottle, which had discharged his Corck centry, and runne all out.

First of all I would have you know (good sirs) that I am called, and here she stood suspended by reason she, &c.]

Oportet mendacem esse memorem.

Sinon made not one rub in that long lie of the Trojan Horse, but with a solemnity, commanding beliefe, laies the whole businesse upon the gods, cals it the [...]r Artifico, ‘Divinâ Palladis Arte.’

[Page] The memories of men and women have been very strange. Caesars was such, as he could call his Souldiers all by their owne names; Seneca could remember all that ever he wrote or did, others what other men do, and nothing of their owne. Some remember more then they should, and some not so much; and those whose memories are pitched very low in the hinder part of their heads, are so long before they can pumpe out what they have treasured up, that they remember not at a first or second time, but at a third. I have heard of one of so strong observance and retention, that if he saw a man but once, he was able to tell him a long time after, how many buttons he had on his doublet, what kinde of shooe-ties, bandstrings, and hat-band he had at their first meeting: The chiefe matter is constitution, use, and liking. A well tempered braine remembers constant, habit strengthens, and perfects; and like old men, what we have a mind to and affect, will be remembred well enough. So it is with the Queen, whose owne fancy setting her upon this designe, (except the first halt) went very cleverly on with the rest of the story.

Nicomiconas Story.

Imacrio skill'd in Art, surnam'd the Black,

(Which men call (Magick) that doe wisdome lack▪)

And Xamarillae Queen, my parents were:

Where no issue Male, and therefore I am heire.

But wise Imacrio by his skill foreknew,

That Xamarillas death would soon ensue;

And his great knowledge let him understand,

All matters would befall himselfe and Land:

So that his owne neer destinies he told,

(Though neither he nor his good Queen were old.)

And what in future would become of me,

And then he sigh'd out this sad Prophesie.

Thy Mothers death, nor my owne sodai [...]e end

So trouble me, as what doth thee attend,

(Poor sencelesse Princesse:) When our heads are cold,

Thou and thy Kingdome by a Gyant bold

Wilt be invaded, whom his Iland write,

Pandafilando of the du [...]ky sight;

Not that he squint-eyed is, for his eyes stand

Well in his head, but he can them command

To move distractedly, or outward swell,

And by distortion looks more terrible;

'Twere Warre enough for thee, his goggle eye,

But yet hee'l prove a fiercer enemy.

For he shall first desire thee for his wife,

That being denied, doth make immor [...]all strife.

Strait with an Army of excessive courage,

He shall thy rich and vast Dominions forrage,

And put thee unto flight. Wherefore begone

Nicomicona from Micomicon:

[Page] Let him a while usurp thy rights, which are

To be be regain'd by a great Knight from far.

Then reaching out a book of Characters,

This book, saith he, directs and never errs.

Thou must deer soule (believe the mystick signes,

For thy redemption coucht in these dark lines,)

With all the speed thou canst for Spaine: Once there,

Report will ring thy rescuer to thy eare.

And as I guest upon a leafe, he wrote

His name Aco-te, sure, or Don Hy-hot.

False memory! A Knight of stature high,

By nature wrought and form'd for victory,

Of swarfy look, but yet condition milde,

(Except when just adventures make him wild.)

Moreover, my learned Father did condole

A marke the Knight had, 'twas a mighty mole;

Which had it grown above his grizly chin,

No Knight like him for Errantry had been;

But on his sturdy shoulders left right side,

There is this mark of honour to be spied:

And which his strength, and fortunes plaine doe shew,

Haires on the mole like bristles thick doe grow.

Sancho leaped at the word (above the rise of Jack-pudding in a Morrice dance,) and said, O Queen, O King! thou art the man, thou art the man! For when you were (great Sr) in the naked part of your Pennance, I saw (to my great joy, I saw) this mole-hil and the bristles growing on them; and being you were hog-backt, you must needs have more of them about you, which shews, that you shall not only fetch your enemies over the lef [...] shoulder, but if need be your selfe is able (if you shoot out the naturall Artillery of your body) to be as mischievous as an Italian with his venom'd shaft under cloak: As you stood in the field naked between two trees, I took you for a turnepike; I saw so many of these Molehils and sharp Speares about you, that if you had but rusht and flurted like a Turky cocke, I should have been afraid of dying no other death, then by the shooting of your quils through me.

Nicomicona proceeds.

These things discovered which my Father told,

Which my abusive braine could hardly hold,

And tha [...] your name (most Noble Quixot) hits

So neer to those of my mistaken wits;

And reading in your lookes no common matter,

(The front's a glasse that will not easily flatter)

There needs no more Certificates. I've seen,

Happy the houre! him, that will make me Queen.

The Knight ordain'd by stars for this design,

Methinks I doe already count all mine.

[Page] And that Pandafiland of the dark sight,

Is by your valiant hand depriv'd of light;

His head cut off (the cause of all uproars)

And in a trophy (as was once the Bores

Born before Bevis) carried on a Pole,

Wheresoe'r Don Quixot moves. Thus take the whole

Of what my Father shew'd: Beside he wrote

In languages, not understood a jot

By me, (as Chaldee or Greek Character,

As those that knew the meaning did averre;)

That if the Knight of this grand Prophesy

(After the Gyant slaine, his Armes laid by;)

Should burne with gentle heat and soft desire,

And love shall kindle in his bones a fire,

That could not but by me extinguish'd be,

I should incline to's sute, and make him King,

And with my loved selfe give every thing.

What thinkest thou of this friend Sancho?] Transported Don is rais'd a pinne or two above his judgement (and carried by strong imagination, and an ambitious minde.) He supposes his worke done before it is begun; the enemy slaine, the Queen restor'd, himselfe inaugurated and naturalliz'd on a Black, his Royall Robes on, and the glittering Ensignes of his men, State and dignity borne before him, and himselfe to be acknowledged (by conjunction with the Queen) lawfull King of Micomicona during her life: nor is Sancho behind him for a Pigeon; both deluded commit equall errors. The Don is indeed a more thoughtive, inward, close, and conceal'd Cocksome; Sancho open, and in this point irrecoverably cosen'd, untill the sad Catastrophe shews the Play to be a jig, all mockery and mirth. In the mean time Sancho's a Player, and Acts a Lord.

"Thus Sancho makes fine Dorothy a Queen,

"Kissing her hand, that untill now was cleane.

"(So only fit to doe him grace,) her word

"Is his Commission for a future Lord.

I will say no more, it is not possible that ever I may induce my selfe to marry another, though shee were a Phaenix.] A brave recoyle upon his Soule, and the very secret of it displaid in a sentence. It is not beauty, proportion, gamesomenesse, majesty, affability, that are the objects of every ones love. For we see men (as wise Don Quixot to make election) choose neither faire nor comely women, and yet find sufficient ground even in their Persons, to be taken pleas'd and contented. And there are those that have the choisest pieces for exquisite feature on earth, married even to the envy and neighing of every one that sees them, and these singular objects of Love meet not with constant and reciprocall heats; If the face be the first at [...]ractive, that like the day is eclips'd and not seen, not admir'd. Many A [...] nes (after the heyday of the blood is over) are left miserably to the [...] and woods; their spouses inveigled by such dross and dunghill Perso [...]s that no clean thing will touch 'um. Some undergoe Penelopes long time of Melancholy and spinning, whilst their seduced Husbands are fool'd into a [Page] farre Country by some Dalila's (that had tryed most of her own) and there lose life, Concubine, fortunes, and all. What should any man see in a whore to affect her more then a wife? unless he suspects his own to be so, nay it hath been the captivity of some mens affection, to accept, and make their own Incumbencies tri'd and known reversions. 'Tis better to shoot at rovers, then when you have chose a standing mark, to play at random. Dons thoughts are fixt, and what ever it was that caught his prying and understanding heart, it could be no unworthy thing, unlesse his love was like (the others) no love in the Epigram.

Non amo te (Sabidi) nec possum dicere quare;

Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amote

è Converso.

I love Toboso, and I know not why,

Only I say, I love her (whimsyly.)

Text proceeds.

The refusall of the Phaenix, is an irrefragable signe of his constancy, which made Sancho chatter like a Jay.

That which Don Quixot said disliked Sancho so much, as he lift up his voice with great anger.] What, despise a Phaenix? O Owle! hast thou only kept company with Bats, Buzzards, Beetles, in this long retirement in the Desert? are you of a feather? It is blindnesse, obstinate blindnesse; you shut up your eyes against the Phaenix of the Times, (indeed made brighter by the ashes of affliction) and hunt after Mice and vermin: On [...] glote of the Queens eye, is more pleasant, lovely, and bewitching, then if Dulcinea should cast her heart up, which would i [...] were out, rather then it should disturbe us in the progresse to our honours. Sir, settle here your choyce affe [...]tion, and despise for ever that Scavengers load and aneusance of Toboso, but that her forme and face did priviledge her, shee had gone with honest durt and dust-ho, to the Common shoare, where a Cage was a Pallace sit to entertaine her, neere those aires she best thrived in, and recruited.

Don Quixot hearing such blasphemies spoken against his Lady Dulcinea, could not beare them any longer.]

—Manet al [...] mente re [...]ôtum

Iudicium stolidi, spretaeque injuria Doudae.

Most quarrels are upon these occasions; Warres have been wag'd, and Nations embroyl'd in blood one against another; and ‘—Belli teterrima Causa,—&c.’

Such a fowle businesse (as Toboso's) hath been the shamefull furzbush to set 'um all on fire. But a Knight-Errant of all men is Paramount, the Champion of all Ladies, in defence of their honesty and beautie; much more for his owne. And therefore his sodaine revenge upon his foule mouth'd Squire was here justifiable, and if he had [...]rook him into, or thorough the Earth, (as it was much he had not) Sancho could not have return'd any just exception to it. But Sancho had created Dorothaea his Queen, and shee was prevalent with her hop'd for spouse (the flower of Spaine) in begging pardons, the Don was mercifull, and forgave any one he had hurt.

Run Sancho and kisse your Lords hands.] He went as willingly as a dog to a whip: But remembring that those hands were hereafter to weild a Scepter, and to be the long and powerfull hands of a King, in reverenc [...] to that [Page] change, (for he thought at the reception of those sacred Functions there was some [...]minent alteration in the Person) he did come slowly to the honourable Pennance, wishing all peace for the [...]uture, and that no occasion might be given or taken, wh [...]reby the Don should stroke his head, or he licke his Majesties fingers.

And as they were talking, they espied a Gallant comming to them, riding on an Ass [...]] A Rogue had benighted himselfe in an AEgyptian dresse, and smooty face, and thought he rode in the dark, but he had forgot to discolor his Asse, by which his Theevery is brought to light. Sancho hath discovered the Asse to be his adopted Creature, naturalized into the family, and soone after the sullied Knight upon the back of it, Gines Assamount, whom with his loud cries he follows so close, that he makes Gines of an Asinester, Pedester, and himselfe Alacer. And now Resonant Asinelida Sylvae, and Sancho having more feet then ordinary, yet no Lyrick Poet by the recovery of his Asse, broke into these raptures.

And doe I hold thee! and behold thee, [...]oo!

O le [...]'s be mutuall mirrours at this view;

Never were glasses truer! Thy Sweet Face

I knew as well, as any of my Race:

Our dogs doe licke our chops, why may not we,

(Two goodlier Creatures farre) joine Physnomy?

What stately eares it beares! and how upright!

Our Rosinant doth envy at their height.

No sly Egyptian Thiefe, no Gines, no force,

Shall ever Sancho and his Asse divorce;

And wheresoe'r this History shall be,

When you doe see the Asse, you doe see me;

And when the Asse is of this World no more,

For Sancho and his Asse as (One) deplore.

CHAP. IV.

Sancho the meanness of Dulcinea tels,

How thres [...]er-like she works, and likewise smels;

Says, that the Don with Lances might prevaile,

But shee would doe such wonders with a Flaile:

When that he boldly to her presence thrust,

Shee was engag'd up to the eares in dust;

But by the favour of the scattering wind,

He saw her face, exceeding woman-kinde.

Her stature mans; he fear'd, being no higher,

Shee'd take him for your Dwarfe, and not your Squire.

Quixot turnes all (like men Ictericall)

Into the colours he abounds withall,

And highly praises, what no man (but He)

Could ever to its fowlnesse vili [...]y.

Heare how poor Andrew magnifies the Don,

And the same praise will serve for both as one.

[Page]

TEXT.

ALL this liketh me well, said Don Quixot, therefore say on, thou arrivest and what was that Queen of beauty doing then?] This Dialogue of the Don and Sancho, conc [...]rning the high and mighty Dulcinea of Toboso, may be compar'd to those of Lucian; it being Laus & vituperium Rei, full of Hyperbolicall and ridiculous fla [...]teries on the Dons side, and downe right and blunt abuses on the Squires. I know no reason, but it may be in rythme; for Knight-Errants as they were inspir'd with Languages, so they were able upon all occasions to expresse themselves in Prose or Verse, and their Squires also had a sprinkling of this gift.—Amant alterna Camaenae. You shall have them as at the examination office, the Don with his Amatory interrogatories, and Sancho deposing nothing to the purpose.

D. Quix.

When at Tobosos Palace, (pleasures roofe)

Thou and our Rosinant did rest your hoofe;

What was Dulcinea, Queen of beauty, doing?

What wise employments keep her from fond woing?

S. Pan.

Shee takes the safest course to turne off Courting,

Is alwaies moiling, and her selfe be-durting,

(Like to a Sow in snow-broth) somewhat neater

Your letters had the happy luck to greet her.

Then too, to quench desires, in labour great

With a round sive she winnow'd chaffe from wheat.

D. Quix.

Wheat? thou blind cockrel, tak'st thou wheat for pearls?

All those rich granes thou saw'st were guifts for Earls.

S. Pan.

It may be so; when she had made it bread,

Twas fit for the best Prince to put in's head.

D. Quix.

When with obeysance just, (humble and low,

With all the nicenesse of Punctilio)

Thou didst present our letters to her hand,

Did shee not kisse the seale? and wondring stand

To see the signature, (this Countenance print)

And seem to see no common matter in't?

S. Pan.

Your letter by a Clerk of Sancta Fides

Was wrote from mouth, & seal'd with some Mervidas;

But yet in sign of joy her high rear'd hand

Bore up the sive, and as I carelesse stand

In the winds mouth, in mine her wheat-dust flew,

And in my eyes, that I no Christian knew;

But threw your Letters on her empty sack,

To rub my eyes, like him o'th' Quinborough back.

What quaeries did shee make, whether her Don

D. Quix.

Lov'd any other Queen? or her alone?

She sifted much, and try'd to ge [...] all o [...]t,

S. Pan.

(The Divell could not cleanse it,) 'twas all smoot,

Sooty, and blighted Corn. But then said I,

Seeing her storm and stamp in such perplexity;

[Page] Fairest of fowlest worke, your Lord, good Knight,

In fowler fashion spends both day and night;

You halfe undress'd, in modest sympathy,

The Knight all naked in the fields doth lye,

Hungry and cold, deform'd, cursing and raving,

Living with beasts, and humane commerce waving.

D. Quix.

Doe not her silver pillars raise her high,

That shee doth seem an Arch of Majesty?

S. Pan.

Shee and a Miller in the Pillory,

O'r seers of a Market well might be.

D. Quix.

Is not that spatious Palace (like the Suns)

Deckt with bright graces, and perfections?

S. Pan.

Her Frontispiece is rich, that the sweet dimples

We would see in her chinne, are hid with pimples.

D. Quix.

But bonâ Fide speak, what a rich scent,

What fragrant flavour strook shee as shee went?

S. Pan.

If I may trust (as to a Probe) my nose,

See smelt, as if shee'd newly pluckt a Rose.

Such odour breath'd, & such strong airs were hobling,

As use to ascend from a new laid Tantaublin.

What shee evaporates from her wide Armes,

Let them relate, whom the ranck breathing warms.

D. Quix.

But having thred the Pearle, (that thou call'st wheat)

And got into some place of close retreat,

Prithee how often did shee read? how oft

Salute my letter for the language soft?

S. Pan.

As children doe on writings sometimes stare,

But being unskill'd, the uselesse paperstare,

And tread 'um under feet, so simple shee

A while stood gazing at the Roman (D)

And (T) on the indorsement; then she tri'd

Wheher they would a backside rub abide;

And after that shee rent in two small pieces

The Letter, (not that shee your love despises)

But lest the secrets should discovered be

To any one that should read more then shee.

Shee much was troubled (as I heard her say)

At your night pennances, and hers of day,

And doth command you from the Woods. But when

I told her that all Knights and doughty men

Gave to themselves some name appellative,

And that your Fame would longer thence survive;

How eager was shee for to heare it told?

I was as glad, and could no longer hold;

Take it, hee's Knight of the Ill-Favour'd Face,

Nor could shee hold, but shooke the very place

Whereon shee stood with laughing; she so shook,

'Twas hard to tell which way her strainings took;

[Page] Nor left shee, till I askt her if some slaves

Had come to doe her homage; but the Knaves,

She said, came not unto submission; but

An honest Biscaine (who was beaten to't)

Acknowledg'd her his ransome; but for her

The Don had slaine (he said) a Biscainer.

D. Quix.

Our honour is preserv'd: But is hers too!

Sancho, what jewell did she give to you,

The guerdon of thy paines? hadst no rich gist?

I know her heart, shee'd make a scurvy shift

To show her bounty, especially to one,

Who brought such welcom'd news from her high Don.

S. Pan.

Shee was not at her Cabinet, if so,

Shee'd much to give, but unto whom few know:

Shee's rich and covetous, and ne'r appeares

Stately, but keeps her Robes for better years;

Unguifted yet she sent me not away,

'Twas dinner with her, and a revers'd Tray

Serv'd for her Table, she her selfe did sit

So pleas'd o'th' ground, as shee were us'd to it;

Then her provision from a bag she threw

Onyons and Garlick, Bread and Cheese out flew.

She like a hungry Gos-Hawke the prey seiz'd,

Untill her wrung concavities were eas'd.

"Her Grace when she had victuall'd that grand Camp,

"Gave me a piece of Cheese tuff as a vamp,

"The grinding of it, gave my jaws the cramp.

Out of a pot of water then shee quaff'd

To my Ill-favour'd Lord (said she) and laugh'd,

And spouts the pledge into my face, full draught.

It was enough, that shee would deine to send,

I mounted Rosinant, and ther's an end.

Seeing some wise man hath transp [...]rted thee thither by stealth, and unaware of thy selfe.] Mephistopholus is the spirit of expedition, and consign'd to attend Knight-Errants and their Ladies; for the Knights ride as if the Devill were under 'um, and their Ladies as if the Divell were in 'um, or over 'um; Pacolets horse is for their Lords, and the Night-Mare or the Ephialtes for their Virago's. It may be Dulcinea (that he might digest his entertainment) committed Sancho to one of her familiars, which gave him the Presto and a vade celeriter through the aire, but Sancho came not flying, but lying all the way. By the help of these Necromanticall Pneumatergies, Drake encompass'd the World with a Ship, shot the Gulph, and was three dayes before he rose again, the Sr Pol [...]'s dispatch Whales for intelligence, and as if there were a Post-Office amongst the Fish, you have Letters every [Page] day from all parts of the world, at a great deale cheaper rate then any from the Continent.

And likewise I pray you not to trouble your mind, thinking to see my Lady Dulcinea at this time, but travell to the place where the Gyant is and kill him, and conclude that businesse first.] Very well counsell'd Sancho, alwaies kill the Beare before you divide his skinne. There was an Irish souldier so wary, that one of his enemies being dead, he thought him not secure enough till he had cut off his head, and then he cried he had slaine him. Sancho is for a head in a platter, a Thiefe in chaines, a Mastiffe in a muzzle, a Bird in the hand, a Mouse in a trap, Fish in the net. Such plaine and easie proverbs learned in his rusticall life, were of great use in his military affairs; for he was now a souldier of fortune, and it concern'd him (as much as an Earledome) to have the Gyants head in his Wallet, that is, to remove all difficulties and obstructions to his owne preferment.

I have heard preach'd, said Sancho, that men should love, &c. I love and serve him for what he is able to do.] Here wants a Lipsian Marginall, a nollem dictum mi Tacite. In the like case, where the wise Historian makes too bold to censure the Actions of the gods, as he did frequently of the Emperors; saying, Credo diis magis nostram ultionem curae esse quam securitatem. But Sancho's is a censure of men, or rather a censure upon himselfe, why and for what reasons he serv'd God, which being profane might have been spar'd, though tis too true, and what the Satyrist long agoe observ'd, that our prayers were made to the gods, but the matter was all for our selves.

Prima fere vota, & cunctis notissima Templis

Divitiae ut crescant, ut opes ut maxima toto,

—nostra sit Arca foro.

The summe of most mens Oraisions is this;

Descend O Jove, as once thou didst of old

Into thy Danaes lap, (thy seat of blisse)

So to our Chests in yellow showers of gold:

Or else, tis like poor Iohn Bee,

Who prai'd for himselfe, his Barnes and his Wife,

Ne give's short commons: ne give us shortlife.

Mr Nicholas perceiving them drown'd thus in their discourses, cried out to them to stay and drink of a little Fountaine that was by the way.] Mr Nicholas did very well to put them in mind of water, for their discourses were very dry. Water's like Butter, 'tis good for any thing, and according to the play of what is it good for, it is good for Sancho's foule mouth to wash it cleane after the telling of so many lyes to his Master. It was good for his Mrs Face to cleanse that too, if the Proverb of his Ethiopian subjects did not obstruct it. It was good for Cardenio, who lookt like a Westphalia Flitch, with long watching and fasting. It was good for Mr Licentiat, who as a scholar was to taste of the fountaine in memory of Parnassus, as a Divine in memory of his holy water. 'Twas good for the Lady Dorothaea to be stil'd the only meritorious and sacred Nymph of that Fountaine, and it was good for Mr Barber, if his sweet-bals had been present, to have washt, shav'd, and made all handsome gratis, or symbolo soluto, paying nothing at the Inne for his ordinary.

stratâ discumbitur herba.

[Page] In the meane time the Curate (of two cures now, for here his provision is for the body) intreats her Ladyship to take a green Gowne, and all like good people of the first age, make the grasse-plat their table, and accept of Mr Curates parabile, and his sentences in praise of slender dyet, as modicum non nocet, Natura minimo contenta, especially to those who had so long fasted, through the [...]ares satisfie their stomacks; and though it is a common saying, venter caret Auribus: Yet in case of a generall want, the belly must heare with others eares (as they say) and be rul'd by the oeconomicall discipline of the whole body.

O my Lord, doe you not know me? I am the youth Andrew, whom you unloosed from the Oak, whereunto I was tyed.] Don Quixot (seeing his freed man Andrew) did arrogate unto himselfe the greatest piece of Chivalry that ever was performed by Knight-Errant, and is so transported with the confidence of Andrew's magnifying his redemption, and praising his most valorous and just encounter, that he cannot forbeare to make his mouth more unsavory by his owne vaine and foolish commendations, which he hop'd would have been seconded by Andrew. But such was the issue, as of his dialogue betwixt Sancho and himselfe, concerning Dulcinea, and tends as much to his honour, as that to hers.

Answer me, be not asham'd, nor stagger at all, but tell what pass'd to these Gentlemen.]

Infandum (quoth Andrew) jubes renovare dolorem.

Sir, pluck off my doublet, and there read the bloody History of my Mr Haldudo, and poor Andrew; I am so scarified, that with a little salt, I should make an excellent Carbonado. Many a line there is in memory of your Honours intercession, (pox of your appearance) and the scoffs wherewith he e'r beate me, were as dolorous as the blows upon my back; in such and the like scurrilous words whispered, while he was lowder in his punishment.

Andrew, accept this wholesome Bastinado,

'Tis sent you from your friend, [...] Don Bravado;

Reliever of oppressed servants from harsh Masters,

And then he yerkt my back with his thong-wasters:

And 'twixt his whips insults, and every stroke,

O pray for your redeemer Don an Oake!

And when soe'r the Knight shall passe this way,

Tell him your Master gave you royall pay.

Wherefore Andrew concludes all with a very plentifull curse upon Don to his Face, and all of his Tribe, though himselfe was newly entring into it, and wanted but a Master; Gines Passamont is about the wood (Andrew) and if you meet, you'l hardly part; you will live and dye together.

[Page]

CHAP. V.

Mine Host right use of these Romances got,

Reading such books merrily o'r the pot

Unto his guests; and every Gyant slaine,

And Lady rescued, (Tapster) brought up twaine,

Not Gyants, but fresh pots; then those dispatch

In healths unto the Ladies Princely match,

And to the Knight her valiant Paramour;

Why, here's no danger now but of the score:

But mine Hosts credit upon that doth lie,

That truth be in his Ale, as History.

Fresh Tales, fresh Taps; and thus they frolique through

The Arts of Thracian Cirongilio,

And Tope away Hercanian Fleximart;

(A sober Knight, and us'd not to that Art)

So Don Diego Garcia of Par-edes,

Hath Pitcher-praise, and double health his meed-is.

So when our Don at his long home is anchor'd,

His memory in a Manchegan Tankard:

By the old Wives will be kept up, that's all,

Counted the merriest, tosseth up the same.

(John Falstaffs Windsor Dames memoriall)

A Goddard or an Anniversary spice-Bowle,

(Drank off by th' Gossips, e'r you can have thrice told)

And a God rest his soule. Our Don is laid,

Truce with the world; Mils be no more afraid,

And Sheep graze quietly, Coarses goe free,

The Don is laid, men may have leave to dye,

And to be buried; Carriers keep the rodes,

No more doe you your selves rifle your loades,

And lay it on Knight-Errants and their Squires.

Sancho's a man of no such base desires,

An Earle in losses, and hath noble thoughts;

But when the Curate prov'd those books were nought

But lies and Fabulous delights, and Errantry

A Figment! Sancho put finger in th' eye.

TEXT.

NOW by my bless'ed selfe! thou shalt use my taile no more for a beard.] De Lanâ Caprinâ, or Aprugnâ; contention is ridiculous; but this Oxe taile is esteemed as her owne, I know not upon what ground, unlesse her own had made her Husbands head sutable to this Oxe taile, for nothing will serve to clense his comb, (which was the clenser of his head, and displayer of his high frontiers) but this pied Oxe taile, which Mr Barber was so delighted with, that he preferr'd it before his Landladies, and admitted it n [...]erer his lips, [Page] then he would her fa [...] maine-pillion. But at last the Barber (Mr Curate earnestly perswading) like the Castor pursued, parts with his taile-piece, and walks as one of the dirump'd Poultry, afraid he should catch an extreame cold in his face, and be troubled with the chin-cough.

At the Table they discoursed of Don Quixots strange Frenzy, and what hapned betwixt him and the Carrier, &c. And the story of Sancho's canvassing.] The last guests discourses, carriages, and freenesse, is the certaine news for the next commers. If one were inquisitive to find out others mens use of their liberty, let him follow a day behind upon the rode. The sagenesse, civility, thrift, abstinence, and such like personated parts and customes at home, will be all laid aside, like Mr Curates divinity with his Capouch, when he hath a mind to make merry with the good wives of his parish. And these merry makings, mine Host is as sure to r [...]late to the succeeding Travellers, as what robberies are committed, though he himselfe were of the company. The Hostesse hath caught poor Sancho in the Blank ets too, and tosseth him afresh before his lovely Queen Doro [...]haea; and 'twas strange the foul Beast Maritornes had so much modesty to conceale her and his back hot cockles betwixt the sheets. In the mean while the Don sleepeth, and his Squire Sancho watcheth, to learne if from his dreames any thing may be gathered of his future victories o'r the Gyant.

I my selfe have two or three Books of that kinde, which doe verily keep me alive, and not only me, but many others, &c.] Mine Hosts policy for the drawing guests to his house, and keeping them when he had them, is farre more ingenious, pardonable, and profitable, then our duller wayes of Billiards, Kettle-pins, Noddy-boards, Tables, Truncks, Shovell-boards, Fox and Geese, or the like: He taught his bullies to drink (more Romano) according to the number of the letters in the errant Ladies name.

Clodia sex Cyathis septem Justina bibatur.

The pledge so followed in Dulcinea del Toboso, would make a house quickly run round.

No such Lure as drinke and sports to bring any businesse about. A Gentleman distress'd for want of labourers (it seems hi [...]'d out before) knew not how to inne his Harvest; wherefore he sent for a couple of Bearehoods, and proclaiming a free accesse to that sport, the worke-men from all places came thither, and by that meanes with his brewings of Beer, and Brewin the Bear, he got his worke done, and yet every day did play. Mine Host hath another benefit by his books, or his wife rather, for it seems he was a fiery cholerick man, and the book was her security, as long as he was reading, shee was at quiet; a very good recipe for either sex that are troubled with the Alarum of the tongue. Romances may be very well read by women in such cases, and not as Maritornes the fousty slattern made use of them to defile her braines with the conceit of embracing a Knight under an Or [...]nge Tree, what a Lemman should he have of her? Good Mrs Ursula! how sweet these things are to her! as Hony; O for the sting in the raile! to let her know that sweet meat must have sowre sauce. The Hostesses daughter is also smitten, but dislikes the blows that are given, shee cannot indure severing the head from the body. Those indeed were down-right, but shee was for a by-blow.

[Page] Peace (quoth the Hostesse) for it seems thou knowest too much of those matters, and it is not decent, that maidens should know or speak so much.] The daughters of those mothers (who have been in the oven) are forward and understandable of womens matters, sooner then other children. The egs that are hatcht in an oven, bring forth spirituous chickens, and they commonly prove of the game. Mine Hostesse and her daughter were as like as one egg to another, and like Mrs, like maid too; Maritornes serv'd the Carriers, if they pleas'd the best sort: The rebuke might very well have been spar'd, for in that compellation of Mayden, it concern'd not her. The old dame was fearfull shee should too much lay open secreta Domus, especially the Lady being present, whose super-eminent gracious aspects, recall'd a little modesty into their impudent breasts. My young inheritrix of the Inne would not have any man call her Tigre or Lyon, shee was gentle as a Lamb or a Cow, with stretcht Udders, and this pliantnesse she had partly by nature, partly by example from her mother, whom she thought it religion to follow, though it were to the Devill.

Gaudeant be [...]è nati,

Defleant malè nati.

Where much salt is, Pigeons will frequent, and they are Venus's birds: Cats have hot ingendrings, and where the conceptions are fiery, the Kittens will be elemented alike. 'Tis that fire, that salvolatile which makes them of so strange agility, and in conclusion (as the English Proverbe hath it) what is bred in the bones, will not easily out of the flesh. Romul [...]s was cruell from the wombe, the Woolfe with her milk, conveighing her nature too. Wherefore it is not good to give female infants Goats milke, that is, not to suffer ranc'k, frowy and hairy nurses to suckle 'um, what the mother hath conferr'd is not curable by Physick, the mischiefe being scatter'd through the very Principles of Nature, and no more to be discovered then Materia prima, and as the learned Pliny saith, Morbi sicut alia legantur, Dropsies, Gowts, Palsies, Epilepsies, and most diseases are as haereditable from our Parents, as their estates. So their vices also, especially those ab utero derivata: For partus sequitur ventrem, and I never read that ever a Messallina brought into the world a Lucreece.

Would you quath the Hoste burne my Books?] In good time, my wife first, if shee were in a scolding fit. These books (Sir) they are the caemen [...] of my company, the glew that holds them all together, they draw more then my signe, or any thing I have within (except the Tapster.) Our mother the Church is never blemish'd by them, nor his Catholike Majesty, nor his H [...] linesse at Rome; and why should any man seek to burne such Books which keep up Society and Ladyes untill midnight (if the Gentileman read e [...] phatically and finely to them) they inflame men and women, and put true spirits into us; besides it is a great helpe to Printers and Book-sellers, who dare venture upon nothing that is serious and true, these being innocent pastimes, and other works dry, and fitter for the fire. Consider also that they are great helpes to such ho [...]ses as ours, though but few in the world beside my selfe, of my function, I think can read such hard names as are in these volumes. How Mr Traquitantos of the Commarke of St Lucrees: You must suffer me a little to digresse and make it known to you, that there are men of your profession in other parts of the world, who have read as [Page] good Romances as these, and have thence so furnisht themselves with invention upon all occasions, that they scorne to turne to a book when they would make their guests merry, but out of their owne sparkling forges have found delight and pleasance for the whole time of their stay, were it a week long. And I shall give you a tast of the pr [...]gnancies of those Inne-keepers where I or my friends have fortun'd to travell, a little to prick the swelling of the bladder. In Bellosyte of the D [...]luin are rare, acuminate, quick and phantasticall blades of your employment, that have hundred witty Remoras for their guests, which they cannot escape for the frequency of them, nor dislike them for the invention. One of them having some guests that lov'd Larks, said, I will fit you with such a service of Larks as you never heard of the like before: how, Landlord, quoth the Gentlemen, what part of the skie proves your net, that you have such heavenly food! The Inne-keeper soberly (as his custome was) replied; gentlemen, The Larks come not to me by miracle, nor doe I take Quailes for Larks; But these birds my servants catch, indeed, the rarity is their tast, as you will find at supper; for (marke me Gentlemen) in and neer the Fields where these pretty warblers resort, I my selfe set Garlike and Onyons, which the birds feeding on, have such a naturall Hogou, that no French Artizan is able to make a higher, but for fashion sake there needs no sawce, and it is alwaies disht severall, that the Larks grand tast may be found to be from its selfe, nor is this all the vertue that comes from my device, for (Gentlemen be confident tis true) I have preserv'd of the young ones, and train'd them up to sing, and they have learn'd instantly; but then by reason of this opening food, which I alwaies us'd them to in their Cages, O what throats they had! what melody they made! no Canary Bird hath reach'd so shril a note, the Nightingall not clearer, and that you may be confirm'd in the truth of it, you shall have a Cage brought in, and as they sing, (though that aire be sweet and desirable) you shall smell easily by what arts they come to have their pretty pipes so cleer. This is very strange replied the Genlemen. If this be strange, said mine Host, what think you then of my brother at the next signe, who hath taught foure Robin Redbreasts of severall growths, as he had chosen Musitians, to sing in parts, which they have done long, to the great delight of all his customers. But unhappily an envious Bard of the Towne, seeing the birds have more custome then themselves, gave one of them Allom instead of Sugar, and so spoyl'd the Consort, so that now I believe my Larks will carry it for musick, from all the birds in Town or Country.

A friend of mine was pleas'd to grace me with a few Verses upon the raw subjects.

Sonnet.

1.

Ho Traveller! goe not to night,

Before thou know our Bellosite,

A thousand rarities are here,

'Twill finde thee pleasure for a yeare.

[Page]

2.

If stately buildings thee delight,

Thebes unto these's a homely sight;

'Tis Paradise upon my word,

And it hath now a flaming sword.

3.

If aire, the spirits subtile friend,

Here's aire will keep you without end,

And lend you an immortall breath,

Able almost to cozen death.

4.

If Musick or of men, or birds

Affect you, goe not to our heards:

The Muses seat is here; some sing,

And some doe ravish on the string.

5.

No where the birds such Musick make,

Taught by the men that doe them take;

A thing not heard of, by their arts

They teach the birds to sing in parts.

6.

The feather'd consort of the Towne

Will sing in tune, a catch or round

And their great Teachers of the City

Sweare, that in time they'l sing the dity

7.

Come Nightingale, and come you Thrushes,

Leave the dull Woods, and verdant bushes,

And with this Garlike cleare your throats,

Or never hope to reach these notes.

8.

Thou Traveller, goe not to night,

Before thou know our Bellosite,

And mayst relate this only rare,

That birds in Innes ou [...]-chant the aire.

There were no living (Gentlemen) with us, unlesse something new and unvulgar be in our houses, for every man here strives to exceed another, thereby to gaine Customers; so that keeps our wits in action, and aemulation preserves our trading. I had some guests that were very unapt to sleep any where but in their own houses, which when I once understood, against their next comming I made a pretty perfume of many odours, and amongst them mingled Poppy leaves, and would you thinke it? the composition wrought so effectually upon their braines, that whereas they heretofore awakened all the house in a morning, now they would not have awaked if the house had faln upon their heads. When they were up, the whole discourse was of the sound sleeps and pleasant rest they took; to which I replied nothing, but that I had given speciall order for the making their beds. One of my neighbours carried all the strangers away before him: He being [Page] famous for catching a monstrous Eele with his horse hoofe; for comming through a Marsh, a loose naile stroke into the fish, and held it: Being caught, insensible to the rider, untill his horse being often vext with the fishes rigling about his heels, threw the Inne-keeper off his back, whereby he came to see what he had caught, beside his fall. The great [...] esse of the fish (for he swore it was as thick as his sign-post) and the manner of taking it, attracted much people to his house, for he had stuffed the skin for a shew, and made it bigger then any Conger. This story swamme a long while, untill it was drown'd by a brother of ours, who being a great fisher, troll'd for a Jack, which he had observ'd often, and was of a wonderfull growth, wherefore furnisht with tackle accordingly to the worth of his prey, he threw in and sodainly she pouch'd his bait, and held him play for an houre before he could bring her to land, then he presently disgorg'd the fish, and upon the opening, out flew a Wild Duck, which it seems the Pike caught as it made a stoop to the water; the Duck by reason of the closenesse of the place it was in, and being grip'd at the catching, could not fly far, so that he came home with double prey, and justifies this to be no flying report.

These are their domestick attractives, besides that, they are full of all manner of publique newes, and let no accident slip them, that will serve to supply talke, or retard a Traveller; and as he findes your journy lie, so he findes out some cruell robbery done in the way you are to goe, or of Inns upon that rode, that are suspected to be haunted by Spirits, and then tels an artificiall tal [...] of an Inn, in that manner frequented, whither a Gentleman comming late, the Host told him all the Chambers were taken up, except one, which he durst not commend to him, because of the Spirits that did disturbe any that lay there. The Gentleman said (mine Host) with your leave I will lie in this spirituall room, and wil venture my flesh amongst 'um. Mine Host disswaded, but could not prevaile; wherefore a good fire was made, and supper in good time brought in, the guest was instantly for bed, his Landlady and Host bidding him good-night, in as sad a tone, as if it had been his last farewell, he had not lain long after the candles were burnt out, but the Familiars were upon his bed, squeeking and running upon his pillow; for the redress whereof, he took one of the bed-staves, and as they came in his reach, he laid a Spirit sprawling, and thus plaid the Conjurer, untill they were weary of Phairy Dances. In the morning he lookt upon the floor, and found himselfe victor over a score of Rats, and calling for his Host, who came gladly to him, he shew'd him his Devils, that had lost him the benefit of that roome so long. Mine Host wondred with himselfe, where the Rathaunt should be. The Gentleman looking behind a vacant place, found a tub and three quarters full of feathers, and being quick of apprehension, conceited they quarter'd in that warme corner; wherefore he desir'd a Kettle of water scolding hot might be brought in, which he sodainly poured into the tub, and immediately there was sogreat a cry of the scalded Vermin, as made mine Host thinke the Devils were in the feather-tub, until the drown'd Rats, which were many, were thrown out, and the Devils appeared in their own likenesse, for which cleanly exorcizing of the room, the Host would take nothing for the Gentlemans entertainment, Horse or man; and which doe you think now, mine Host of Andalusia▪ is the unprobablest [Page] of these inventions? truly I think that of mine Hosts liberality, and the remission of the reckoning. And now that you see how Hosts in other Countries, reap great benefit by lies of their own making, we may return to Mr Curate, who is labouring to prove those lies which you read and are not of your own making. But here Sancho Pancho interrupts us with his sad apprehensions, that the Licentiat should speak truth.

Sancho rested much confounded and pensative of that which he heard them say, that Books of Chivalry only contained follies and lies.] But that the sight of Dorothaea kept up his spirits, this day we had lost a Squire, one Lecture had converted him; a place or two ab improbabili, & impossibili, being able to worke miracles in a Country Auditory. So that Sancho fell into some pusillanimous-selfe-discourses, and was over-heard to say in muttering grumbling manner as followeth.

Have I for this sold my fat Sow and Pigs,

To purchase lies, Romances, and false jigs?

If Amadis du Gaul and Palmerin

Be lies, what whimsey- [...]ados are we in?

No Gyants to be slain, no Emperours?

No Emperour, no Sancho Governour:

But by the life of my Aegyptian Queen,

(Then whom, a fairer Lady can't be seen)

I doe believe in Gyants and in Ilands too,

And that the Books of Chivalry are true

As any legend, and that my Don Quizzot,

Shall get the great Nicomicon for's lot,

And for a Concubine in Guinea,

He may besport it with Dulcinea:

And I contented in some fruitfull Iland,

Shal spend my daies, and neither sell, nor buy Land.

CHAP. VI and VII.

Mine Host this budget (like Pandora's box)

Mischievous stories of all sorts unlocks.

Here he displaies a simple Florentine,

Hatching against his wife a fond design,

Having no cause of any jealousie,

But constant proofs of love and chastity.

Yet he will try the purest gold; the touch

Sullied his piece, and did his Ingotsmutch:

The Cockscomb hires his shame, and gets a Crest,

(Actaeon with a fairer was not blest)

His reasons laid, that women never tri'd,

Are therefore chast; but shee that hath deni'd,

[Page] Resisted bribes, and opportunity,

And a solicitour of gracefull eye,

Apt to convince; she merits all the praise,

And thus a Trophy to his wife hee'l raise.

Lothario is his engine, his best friend,

(Wealthy and young, and fit for such an end)

But his high amity did over-rule,

He argues and disswades, but the stiff foole

Will heare no reason; such dangerous tryals

"Rather instruct to lust, then raise denyals.

"Keep Virgin eares, such as you found um, pure;

"Young Hawkes in time doe stoop unto the Lure:

"And let your Camilas deportment be

"A barre and check to all immodesty.

E'n as she was, (for yet he never saw)

A face of so much freenesse, and such aw.

All this wrought nought; but loath Lothario

(Vnwilling any else so much should know

Of his friends follies) doth attempt the thing,

With like successe as Gyges to his King,

Cozen'd Anselmo, like all Cockscombs, dotes,

And loves her better (so a Whore besots)

Deflour'd, then chast; such arts those gamesters have,

Their

The Wittall prostitutes his wife to be wittee, take [...] possession.

Wittals to their wittees to enslave.

I shall not make any literall observations upon this story of the curious, Impertinent, but only labour to satisfie Mr Curate, who having read and lik'd the penning of it, yet stood incredulous to the beliefe, supposing it a fiction; for as he saith in the eighth Chapter, being the Catastrophe and winding up of the whole matter.

TEXT.

I cannot imagine, that any Husband would be so foolish, as to make so costly expence, for the purchase of a staine.] Mr Curate, to corroborate, confirm, and illustrate this History by many examples, is the best way to reconcile the credit to it, and first in your own way. Abraham durst not let Sarah passe for his owne wife, but agreed with her (while she travell'd through a strange Country) to go by the compellation of his sister, whereby (had no divinity interrupted the events,) he brought his wife into great danger of her honour. But Mr Curate, I shall endevour to give you more pregnant proofs in the next relations. It was in the Country of the Orientall Saxons, where a man offended much that he had no child by his wife, took a mad course to obtaine his desire, and condemning himselfe in the case of insufficiency▪ absolv'd his wife, assuring his thoughts, that change of Person would remedy the businesse; the chiefe matter was to affect his wife with his plot, and obtaine her consent; which he did by often sighing and lamenting his condition, who was bless'd with a fortune, but could not [Page] tell you how, or to whom to dispose of it; it was his earnest desire, that from her body, that comfort might be rais'd unto him, and he should esteem it as the fruits of his owne loynes, whosoever could give her the right contagion. The woman wearied out with such plaints and importunacies, yielded to one single tryall. Her Husband had before hired a young lusty fellow to doe this drudgery, who was so happy in his experiments, that he made himselfe a father, and got his Chapman a child. The thing done, he came for his wages, which was ten pounds promised; but the Chapman fell from his word, and would not give him but half, though he had not done his work so. In conclusion, a sute was comme [...]c'd upon it, and 'twas brought to a Jury, where the supposed Father was cast, and censur'd to pay what was behind to the true one.

This next vindication of the possibility, and facility of such fond and unnaturall actions in some men, comes from the septentrionicall part of those Saxons. In the times of those wars it fell out, that a proper young Chevalier was taken prisoner, and upon Parole, dismiss'd to finde his ransome. In Eboracum h [...]quarter'd sometime, where by his civill carriage, and couragious behaviour, he purchas'd esteem and honour, even in the Garrison of his enemies, who were very industrious to get a change for him, though no allurements could worke a change in him to forsake the side he had once ingag'd for. One of the wealthiest inhabitants did dote upon his person and parts, and grew so enamour'd of him, that he did invite him to all liberty of his house: He did not refuse the offer, but was an often guest at his table, but with that caution, reservednesse, and circumspection, that the more he frequented the house, the more stranger he appear'd: Insomuch that his free and open Landlord wondred at his solemn mode, fearing that his guest might not think his curtefies reall, because no greater pleasance and alacrity proceeded from him, at the reception of them. And having watch'd an opportunity, Deere Renigard (so was this Chevali [...]rs name) saith his entertainer, I hope you have not the least suspition, that these my respects are feigned, dissembled, or politique, but are such as they seem to be. I have not yet learn'd to make my Table a snare, or to catch regall Birds, by laying salt upon their tailes. The freedome that I give you, is as fubstantiall as it is open. I account my selfe happy in the placing them on so meriting a Person; let me not be unfortunate in this only, that you cannot think so. Or prithee tell me, is there any thing wanting, that other places perchance afford you, & being the stronger recreation, with-draws your liking from our defective entertainments? I know (be not afraid to confesse) that such complexions are not only recreated with Feasts, Wine and Musick, but naturally incline to a Lais, or a Corinna, as the Complement of all joviallity and freedome. Renigard smil'd at his prophetique quaeries, and told him, not without a blush, that he had not for a long time been acquainted with an Utile ad purgandos Renes. Why law you now, said he, you would conceale this that would make a horse melancholy; now I can give you thorough cheer. To morrow night (Deer Renigard) you must sup with me, and vouchsafe to take a hard bed too. It shall goe hard (friend) if your second course like you not better then the first; and so I leave you this night, that I may make you worthy entertainment for the next. Both departed very highly exalted; Renigard wishing it a Barnabies Night, or such as Iupiter [Page] had with Alcmena, that this and that following were come together. His Landlord (carefull providore) omitted no cure to compasse all that might delight, and having effected that, which he counted most difficult, he went the cheerfuller about the culinary part. The next day ended to both their joys, and Renigard repair'd to his entertainments, wondring where his living banquet would be procur'd. A supper was provided fit for such appertenancies, and every dish had sawce of a most stirring Nature; Insomuch, that Renigard had great conflicts with his flesh and the provisions. His Landlord supplyed him with fresh provocatives, saying ever and anon, ‘sine Cerere & Baccho friget Venus.’

Ha quoth Renigard, Bacchus and Ceres are in abundance here, but where's your Venus? within a stones cast, said the Landlord, leave you that to me; the Lady of the Table wondred at these loose discourses, but replied nothing, having charge from her Husband, to give no place for feare of discontent from her. Wherefore in a glasse of wine, she gratified Renigard's mirth, and was now assured of his acceptance of her entertainments, by his cheerfulnesse and merry discourse. My Landlord and he had mutuall froliques at the Table, and charg'd on the other very home, untill the decaying lights admonished them of the night, and forthwith he was conducted to his Chamber, a very well furnish'd roome, where sorts of delicacies were on a Cupboard in dish-glasses, offering themselves to his tast or refusall. His entertainer took solemn leave of him, wishing him the pleasures of the night, and so departed, only saying in his eare, I have not forgot thee Renigard, be confident I have not, and then withdrew.

A thousand thoughts and feares surpriz'd our Chevalier, he casts in his mind, what the reason should be that he knew not more circumstantially and punctually of the person or the time he should expect.

After such various and delightfull food Soft sleep might come, and that would be as good.

Why might he not suborne a common Strumpet, in place of a bedfellow? who would give the reward of such unjustifiable pleasures? yet he recomforted himselfe, calling to mind that the artifice was all his friends, unto which he had scarce concurr'd, but in a smile or shrug: Surely the lawes of Hospitality would prevaile with him, not to mischiefe him he receiv'd into his bosome with such strong signes and demonstrations of sincerity. In these varieties of disturbances, he thought the bed would best compose him, and either remove 'um by the promis'd satisfaction, or allay the [...] by a succeeding rest; laid he was, and betwixt the confines of sleep and waking, when his Chamber door gave a gentle creak, such as confess'd the opener sorry for the noise it made, and instantly a stately Lady in her night-dresse, made [...]ome frivolous stay about the Cupboard, entertaining her selfe with a large glasse, and after in some other parts of the Chamber, as if she had lookt for somewhat left there. Renigard peept through the Curtaines, and to his griefe, spied it was the Lady of the house, wherefore counterfeiting a great snore he gave, by his loud Musick evidenc'd that he was now fast, and was not in case to be loose; shee not able to endure his drone [...] le [...]t the Chamber, and Renigard more perplext then ever; for now he doth strongly fancy, that it was all a plo [...] upon him, a catch and [...]nare. [Page] But he had not been long in these distractions, when Noble Festus came in, and rebuk'd him shrewdly for his coldn [...]ss, dulness, and heaviness, telling him that Cupid do's not sleep though he be blind, unless pillow'd on his mothers breast; come (saith he) arise and follow me. In that amazement he was obedient, and resolv'd to goe, though he knew not whither, desiring his Landlord that he might carry his weapon with him, (not without it for the world said the other) then he usher'd him into a closer Chamber, and more private, and bid him enter the sheets, they were warm'd sartagine vivâ, and if he took cold, it would be his own fault.

Renigard laid, his Landlord left him to the sweets of the night, and hop'd (he told him) that the change of his lodging would not displease him, and so remov'd. He found in a short space, that his Landlord was in earnest, and that the Lady came into his chamber for the purposes presum'd, and forthwith to be put in execution. Small Courtship pass'd betwixt them now, the Castle being surrendred before capitulation, only Renigard embracing her very amorously, begg'd her pardon, if he made bold a while with his Landlords Quarters: And shee to excuse her frailty, answered, you could not (worthy Sr) have ingresse or egresse here, without my Husbands permission. Renigard knowing volenti non fit injuria, and having two to please, spent no more time in words. In the early morning his Landlord came againe, and with great sigre, of inward contentment reattended him to his first Chamber, (as fond of him as he was of his wife.) Thus Mr Curate, you percieve that these tame tempers are in the world, & every place yields not such obdurate hearts, that desire to ingross and inclose their delights. Community (even in that particular) is allow'd by many, who rancking themselves with Beasts in their sensuall appetite, applaud the liberty of Animals, and without any ‘Veniam petimus que damus que vicissim,’

Account it naturall, congeniall, and proper to their constitutions to runne in common, and to lay no stricter obligations on their wives, then themselves. Singular was the answer of that Gentleman, who being question'd what store of Mistresses he had; the Pamphilus return'd this reply, more then a Towne-Bull, a Cock, a Boare, or a Horse: An excellent two-legg'd Stallion. Short of these are those soft dispositions, who have rested contented after the knowne violation of their beds, and jealous-headed, have not found out the praevarications of their spouses, until some four years practise in disloyalty; this is patience perforce, and not so punctuall, and ad Rem, as in the next Story shall be evidenced unto you (Mr Curate) wherein spleen and choler have the predominancy, yet working the same effects, as indiscretion did in others.

A Clarissimo of Venice; (a dignity not inferiour to that of the Roman Patricii) liv'd in a port and fashion above any of the place, being a man of vast revenews; and had in addition to all his other blessings, a Lady of incomparable beauty and chastity, in so high a degree, that though it be naturall to the soyle, the Clarissimo was not jealous, nor us'd those customary restraints on his wife, that others did, exposing her to publique view, and priviledging her with the liberty of entertaining his friends or her own, (as oft as they were call'd) in person, unvail'd and unsuspected, so that they were counted them iracle of Venice, she for her transcendent beauty, and [Page] the old Noble man for his indulgencies and permissions. Her irreprovable demeanour, and disposition to please him, gave him great cause to suspect and grieve, that the default was on his part chiefly, why that faire Copy was not taken out, that Lucina was never yet call'd upon for helpe, and that no lovely pledges plai'd about his Hall. On the other side the Lady (ever honoured for ignorance; like that innocent soule, which was join'd to a Husband of a most impure and noisome breath, never fain'd any dislike at it, imagining all men had smelt alike.) The Lady I say knew not, but she was as well serv'd as Niobe. But the old Signior was resolv'd, since he had depriv'd her of her Virgin honour, to recompence her with the reverence and dignity of a mother. But how to effect it, was res ardua; how should he with hopes of any success, communicate so foul a design to her chast ears, with whom, even lawful delights were not admitted without a blush, and some modest aversenesse? Doubtfull, and beyond measure troubled, his rest fail'd him his countenance chang'd, his sprightfull pleasance and galliardnesse abated, which so deeply affected his pious consort, that in sympathy shee refus'd all those contentments, whereof her Lord could not partake.

The Lady innocent, and assured that no cause was given by her, deported her selfe in silence, not presuming to enquire whence these alterations did arise, but applying comfortable cordials, and what ever would cherish and restore his strength, left the disquisition of the reason, untill his owne time should discover it; such strugling pa [...]sions cannot long keep within the womb that bred them, like imprisoned winds, they will endure no forcible confinement, but make their way through those concaves and dens, though with the ruine of their detainers, and an Earthquake to the places adjacent. Wherefore what he had long deliberated, he is resolv'd now to put in action; and the chiefe obstacle being his wives inflexibility to such perswasions, it was most necessary to accost her first, without whose consent all the rest of the project would come to nothing. Sitting together, as their custome was, after dinner, and at that time free from strangers, he took her by the hand, and with looks full of high de [...]ire, said thus:

Life of this little that's left me, better part of my be [...]t part, soule of my soule, elixer of my fainting spirits, bright Sun-beame, repairer and incitresse of my decaying heat: How happy am I in thee? how above merit? what felicity can be added more unto me, only one, that thou might'st enjoy a reciprocall returne of joy and happinesse from me? But then playing with his haires, said, how can this be? unlesse these silver ha [...]res were turn'd to gold. Is there no Chymistry can worke this change? The common Baths will alter argent metall into Or: Methinks in time a man may be made capable of such transfiguration. For thy sake (Love) I wish it; it grieves me for thee, who lying by so dull and unprofitable a lump, contractedst nothing but deadnesse and disease [...], and, I shame to speak, barrennesse, the mockery of thy sexe, that which women had rather not be, then live withall. If I had met thee in parity of years, our Gallery had been enrich'd with the sweet Imagery of our own loines. Thou mightst have read the History of thy selfe multiplyed, to the visiting friends; now thou lookest for issue from a charnell-house, enduring the cruellest torment, [Page] instead of satisfaction, that can be devised, a dead Corps to be join'd to thy sprightfull and lively person. Abandon me for ever (Deer) if I labour not that divorce, or suffer any longer so monstrous a conjunction. I perceive thou art so innocent, thou knowest not what this meanes, nor whither my wild fancy carries me. Obedience hath been hitherto thy excellency, obedience to a frigid plant, a sh [...]king Aspine leafe, a dogs nose. Yet be thou still obedient, and what I now intreate thee, put in execution; I have decreed thou goe to Church to morrow to St Marks in all the bravery thou canst adorne thy selfe, though truly thou deckest it, shew thy selfe such, as the daz'led Auditors may lose their eyes in thee; and since Ladies come thither to be seen as well to behold, it shall be by the addition of this sparkling Diamond, thou shalt be only lookt upon. And therewithall he gave her a most radiant stone; amongst that captive company, let thy eye single out one, whom if I like for quality, as well as thou for personablesse and ingenuous favour, I may, if we continue issulesse, adopt into my Family. Of this faile not, as thou wouldst perpetuate the life and name of him, thou never yet in the least circumstance didst offend. Euphema, so was this accomplish'd Lady call'd, made no scrupulous demurs to her Lords desires; and since the businesse was to be transacted in the Church, she was confident the sanctity of the place, beside the holy exercises, would guard her from any undecent gestures, thoughts, or carriages. Moreover shee knew her selfe a Temple, into which no prophane thoughts had ever entred unresisted, and unreplied; nor did shee (and rightly too) account those thoughts her owne, which she forthwith was in Armes against, and summon'd all the spirituall Posse of her soule, to expell as invaders and deadly enemies to its happinesse and pious tranquillity. Violent intrusions upon devout and sacred mindes, are Diabolicall suggestions, and such as Crown the vanquishers with honour upon earth, and immortality and glory afterward.

The day came, when deckt like the Altar, she went to the Church with an humility and reverence due to the place, with eyes fastened unto the earth, she knew she came from, and was to returne to, then advancing to her seat, private short devotions ended, she join'd into the publique worship, which being begun, rais'd a condemning, but selfe-absolving blush into her cheeks, that shee had lost any part of the Oraizons, staying for the other pinne, or hanging on her watch. About the middle of the Anthem, she remembred her Husbands injunction, who all the while had riveted his eyes to hers (not till then removed from the Psalter, unlesse to Heaven; when her exalted affections mov'd by holy impulses, and efficacy of the matter, lifted them up to the Author from whence they came.) Not Cephalus durst pursue the destin'd object with such certainty, as his eye her motions; And perceiving her twice or thrice to fix upon one person, it was sufficient to confirme him, that Padri Casimire, who read the Masse was the man; nor did shee upon her Lords inquiry deny, but tha [...] he was the only object of her eye, all the service while, wisely concealing the reason of her intentivenesse on him, whom she knew a man of great devotion, Religious without ostentation, and of an extraordinary strict life, and customary charity to the poor, strangers and prisoners. If her Husband meant well in this eye-service, the good Father would incourage him in it, [Page] but if he had any evill, sinister designes, such was the gravity of his person, integrity, and known austerity against any wicked practises, that reprehensions and admonitions, and upon an obstinate preserverance, canonicall charge would follow; so that secure of her marke, she rejoyc'd greatly that no other object had diverted her eye. Impotentio, that was the old Clarissimo's name, the next day dispatches a loving letter to Casimire, requesting him to honour his house, and therein intimates, that he desir'd to conferre with him, about some scruples, which did a little disturb the quiet of his mind.

Nothing was more affable and willing, nothing more able in all manner of knowledge, but especially in practicall Divinity, and cases of Conscience; so that the courteous invitation wrought not so powerfully on him, as his owne propensity and readinesse to give those helps and satisfactions to any, that were desirous of them, which by his function he was ingag'd to, and by his great knowledge and experience he was inabled for. Euphema had been foure years join'd to Impotentio and Casimire was the Priest that knit their hands, which caus'd Euphema to bestow more then ordinary reverence on him, in respect of the mysticall tie where in shee was bound, and according to the Tenet of the Church, accounting Marriage for a Sacrament, did not conceit so rudely and uncivilly of her conjunction, as if it were no more then saying, I Ione, &c. Looking upon the estate, wherein she was now plac'd, and that from whence shee came, she could find it but a remove from chastity to chastity, from Virginall and continuall abstinence, to a moderated and restrain'd indulgency of permitted pleasures. And though her Husband was a sufficient barr to excessive dallyances, (yet knowing no other, then that it was so with every man) she labour'd to lessen his rare and seldome fruitions, by subduing her own flesh rather then his. This day in honour to her spirituall Father, was an extraordinary Feast provided, and about the season of the day Casimire came, and was entertain'd by both of them, with respect, affability, and cheerfull lookes, worthy of his person, parts, and function. And in dinner time he took occasion to bless himselfe, and them too, who were so conspicuous for their mutuall loves, that he receiv'd no small respect among the People, because by him they were united, who attributed much of the blessings and happinesse of their lives to the consecrated hands, and effectuall and intentive prayers, which flow'd from him at that solemnity. A matter little set by in other places, who care not whether their Priests lips preserve knowledge, or their hands confer a blessing.

Dinner ended, and some competent time spent after in Table-discourses, Padri Casimire and Signior Impotentio went together into a large Gallery, where the Merchant pulling from his breast a paper desir'd his Fatherhood to read those heads of his troubles and discontents. Which being twice or thrice perused by Casimire, at last with a great sigh, taking Impotentio by the hand, (Sr said he) and are my strongly conceiv'd hopes dash'd so sodainly? know you what these papers containe? even a divorce to all your joyes on earth. You desire to know first, whether it be lawfull for the conservation of your name (an evident impediment being on your side) to find a supply, and Proxie of your own election, who shall be Loco Patris to the wife by making her a mother. It is as just a reason, as if a Thiefe for the preservation [Page] of his wife and family, should provide himselfe of the next house he could breake open, or the next man he could rob. The conservation of your species, and endeavour of continuing your name and nature upon earth, are very justifiable, and warrantable actions founded in Nature, and without which ‘Res erit unius aetatis populus virorum.’

One age would be the period of man-kinde; wherefore they were not to be discommended, who under pretence of Equestrian sports, made a prey of all the Virgins that came to the sight, satisfying for the present rape with an after-marriage. Their dearth of women at home enforcing them to provide in time from their neighbours, lest their Nation should end in themselves for want of posterity: Yet none of these usurp'd the beds of such as were married amongst them, or thought it lawfull to abuse those Husbands who were not bless'd with issue. Much lesse doth any History afford men of so stupid and low soules, who would prostitute their wives to any other, and that they might be supposed Fathers, be known Wittals to themselves, and panders to their own beds.

It is not with women as trees, there you may inoculate, and set strange grafts, not so on them without spoyling the stick, and unbarking that body, which is vitiated and corrupted by the approach of outward air, and for want of the genuine covering and naturall security it was plac'd in. The more generous of sensible creatures, permit not variablenesse in their mates, but punish their delinquencies with death, and the assaulter too, or else die themselves in the revenge, abhorring so tame and degenerate a complyance, as to look on, or enjoyn it. The men of Primitive times, or the Golden Age (as they call'd it) in case of their defects, took to themselves Concubines, and obtain'd from them, those comforts which they would rather have had from their legitimate consorts. But these men multiplyed themselves, they did not hire journy-men to doe their work for them, nor rejoyce in a Changeling, as it were a child. But to all this you answer, that the impotency and fault being on your own side, your are bound in Conscience to recompence the wives patience and defraudings with something answerable to her expectation. If you were (Signior) frigidus antè nuptias, then you should not have adventur'd upon Marriage, it being nullitas fundementalis, and a just cause why your wife should require her dowry back. Or is it any fascination or Witchcraft, whereby you are frigidus quoad hanc? then you must use holy meanes, and the assistance of devout persons and prayers to disinchant you; the Church in such cases hath not lost the power of Exorcisme. But the remedy you seek, is worse then the disease, to give your wife to the Divell Body and Soule, because a part of yours is impedited by his ministers. Or if your frigidity be from the Winter of your age, you know, warme clothes, fires, and good Cordials, make us insensible of sharp weather, and these naturall faylings of your year [...], may be happily repair'd by lawfull helps, strengthening juices, fomentations, baths, and the like, and what you think impossible (as from your dry stock) being water'd, open'd at root and lopp'd, and all seasonable care taken, may bloom and bring forth fruit without inoculating.

But supposing, not granting the difficulty of restoring what is decay'd, will your like an overladen Tree, be propt up with a fork? know you not [Page] the barren bed is better then a quiver full of ill-headed Arrows. Will you to please the Europa, Metamorphoze your selfe into a Bull, a very Centaure, halfe man, halfe beast? Such a Monster is he made, whosoever voluntarily, or involuntarily, hath lost the propriety in his wife. But a resignation is most unmanly and impious. How can two indispensable vows and bonds be by consent broken, unlesse one may consent to doe what he hath articled never to doe? how can you permit your wife to be a Whore, (unlesse you misplace or misunderstood the words, for better for worse?) Againe, would you give another leave to call you what you make your selfe, or your wife by that title which you have impos'd upon her; or (if your spurious designe prosper not) would you try the Piatza over, and make your selfe Notissima Fabula mundo. You have vow'd to be hers, she likewise to be yours, and what shall be borne of her, to be both yours and hers. A stranger intervening, breaks all these ingagements; you plainly with a de jure cedere, cutting off your own intaile as to your progeny, and dispossessing your selfe of tenancy for life. The wife is made juris alieni, and the children (which of all our goods we account most our own) Iuris publici. Bastards are the Common-Wealths children, and therefore theirs, because nor Father nor Mother would owne them, but expos'd them to the publike charity: And will a man of your discretion, a Senatour and publique Father, priviledge that at home, which you would severely punish in such incontinent persons abroad. Impotentio was very much disturb'd with these rebukes and reasons: (but yet not disswaded) which change of looks Casimire taking for a remorse, and outward signe of inward compunction, did not farther nettle him; but said, the conviction of your forehead puts me in hopes of the conversion of your heart, which I hope is alter'd by this discourse from your first intentions. A blessing on the cure; and so giving him his benediction, the good Father departed full of hopes and joy for his new convert.

Impotentio waited on him, fearing his wife might be inquisitive to learn some what of him; but the good Father knew that such discoveries, though not in confession, were of dangerous consequence if reveal'd, and therefore with a look as cheerfull as when he came first, having given a Benediction to his daughter, (freed from suspition by his plausible countenance) he repair'd to his Covent. Impotentio champt upon this bit of Casimires a day or two, but with like successe, as Mules and Horses, who are imboss'd, foame and chafe the more. He remembred ‘Quod val [...]è cupiunt senes, meminerint benè.’

That he had often commerc'd with a Merchant of Angli-terra, a Gentleman youthfull, handsome and ingenious, in very high credit on the Piatza, and on whom the Clarissimo's many of them cast an eye of more then ordinary regard, and often call'd him to their Tables. The gentleman was a single man, and very rich, so that Impotentio promised to himselfe successe, if his vigilant wife were not impregnable, nor to be surpris'd. The next Exchange, his fortune was to meet him, and having saluted each the other, the Clarissimo desired him, to honour his house that day with his company at meale. Sanguine Vernall, such was the Merchants name, intimating his unworthinesse of so high respect, said, he should hereafter endeavour to make himselfe capable, and for the present he would be indebted for the [Page] entertainment. Our Merchant was not acquainted with the Venetian humor, & therefore summon'd up all his cautionary rules, circumstances and counsels, which either his friends, or his own observations had enrich'd him withall, and having heard very much of the fame of the old Signiors Lady, her beauties and accomplishments, he resolv'd to double arme himselfe, and set a watch upon his eye and tongue, for there was subject enough for either to be luxurious on. From the Piatza they went off together to Impotentio's house, which was one of the stateliest buildings of the City, a Receipt for a Prince, but that it entertain'd a Goddesse; for Euphema comming into the dining Room, so transported our Merchant with her lustre, that he knew not presently, whether he should salute or worship.

But presently restor'd by the melting Corall of her lip, he sate down with civill confidence, inwardly admiring the severall confluences of graces, that his eye beheld, and could no where, but there behold. At dinner he durst not let his eye beguile his mouth, nor wander on the womens side, which made him eat like a Mad man, not minding what he took, nor how it went downe, and Euphema (as shee was an excellent dissecter of the Creature) carving to him some speciall fowle, the puzled wight gave her his us'd plate instead of the servant. The Clarissimo gave him the boon cheer in a lusty glass of Wine, which being by one of the Gentlemen presented to him, it was his wish, the glass had been the spire of a Steeple, and as narrow as a pin-case; for all that while he might have viewed, unsuspected, the Face which had set his heart on fire, not to be quench'd by such a glass, though it had been fill'd with Alpine water. Wherefore imputing the slowness of his draught to the goodness of the Wine, which was to be drank with no hasty, but with deliberate pallat, he said, Signior, other Clarissimo's drink Wine, but you Nectar, and a Philoxenus's neck were not an ill wish to him, who would take a right Gustow of it. And craving another glass, he presented health and happinesse to the Lady of the place. The Table's remov'd, Clarissimo and Vernall retir'd into a very faire Garden, and a little behind that, they enter'd a grove of Trees, and delicate walks every where betwixt 'um. The Trees were so plac'd, that their Armes shot into one another, and were so closely interwoven, that the vernant and aestivall Sunne beames could not pierce their rare imbroydery. In this secret of the house, Clarissimo will now disclose his intentions. Such designes as these were Lucifugous, and would not endure the face of Heaven, wherefore opportunity and place adding courage to his purposes, apprehending Sanguines hand, he thus accosted him, who wondred with himselfe, what would be the end of so courteous beginnings, but Caesar-like accounting his fortunes in himselfe, he said, Sanguine, feare not: when Impotentio gravely and resolutely confess'd; it is not the custome of this place, (friend Vernall) much lesse of men of my Port to afford strangers such liberty, as you this day have found. But your lovely person and candid disposition had before so wrought upon me, that this freedome (to our nice and stanch Gentry indeed, a great matter) is the meanest and least priviledge which I invest you with; having resolv'd to entertaine you into my very bosome: But before you heare any further of my Noble intentions, sweare unto me by all that hath a tie upon your soule, and which invok'd, you count it Religion to violate, that you will not in the least scruple reveale [Page] it either by signes, writing or talke, no not (if we are both of an opinion) to the Priest. Sanguine call'd to minde the Venetian absolution after renunciation of the faith, and with these ensuing cautions to be praemitted, he promised secrecy and assistance. Signior, said he, if so be the secret be not against the present State, which I have promised during the time of my abode to be true to, nor my owne Country, whose weale I have sacramentally vow'd, nor any thing against your selfe, whom by the Laws of hospitality, I am commanded to secure; 'tis ratified, and confirm'd, and upon my oath of secrecy (in attestation whereof I kisse your hand) no screws, arts, racks nor allurements of any sexe, shall be able to disclose what you have lockt up into my breast. No, Sanguine, against none of these can you offend, nay two of them you shall abundantly oblige, that is (said Impotentio) the Common-Wealth of Venice and my selfe; both which at once you shall gratifie, at once make Venice happy in a Publicke sonne, and your old friend with a brave heire. For marke me, (Sanguine) I am childlesse, (and ever like to be so) unlesse this stratagem prevent it. My younger Brother like a Vulture, waits for my Carcass: Not a Bell tols but he thinks or wisheth it were mine: His how d' you man comes every day to know how I slept last night, when indeed, his errand is, to enquire whether I had slept my last: He seemingly laments my want of pledges, which if he should see; O the Basiliske! what poysonous vapours would his eyes discharge, more dangerous then a m [...]nstruous Organ to our purest mirrours? I once desired Euphema to cozen him with some supposititious trick, the very cheat reviv'd me, and sent him home to bed sicke of a taffety Embryo. To defraud this rav [...]ous expectant of his hopes, and to disherison his malignant issue, is my main design, and I have in a most happy hour, chosen thee (Sanguine) to be my instrument: Proxies are allow'd in al Courts, even in our Supream, the Senate house; Inferiour powers are regulated by them, and why not our Domestick? Adoption it is true, in these cases of sterility, hath made up the want, and Emperors have with great contentment created successors, when they could not generate; that common way doth not affect me. I am for the child, which though it be not of my blood, it ought to be, and since my impotency denies that happiness to me, my justice to my bed shall be preserv'd in a substitute. All things conspire in thee, to effect my wishes, youth, strength, and loveliness. This night Euphema sleeps within thy Armes; doe not suspect my promises, this night, Sanguine, I'll reckon as my wedding night, and what hath been these foure years due unto Euphema, shall with large interest be satisfied. Be confident I am serious, and let this chaine of Pearle confirme thee, untill I bring thee to a Jewell of a Price unvaluable. Sir, said our confounded Merchant, my life is in your hands, either by my consent or refusall. If you are only tentative and supplant my frailty, my consent is mortall; if it be true, and that you have design'd this stratagem against your brothers off-spring, though with the taincture of your owne, tis death to know so much and not consent. If then on both sides my ruine is certaine, let me dye on the best choice, for gratifying you in what you wish, and I am sure I am able to perform, then by a sullen negative, call an unprofitable ruine on my selfe: Impotentio kiss'd him, desiring his patience, but to while it selfe in those walks, and he would returne with news should joy them both. Sanguine, left alone, fell into these raptures.

[Page] Kindle you summon'd Spirits, and unite

Your scatter'd Atomes, in this amorous fight:

More Innocent then those of hers, whose Troy

Was made a Bone-fire by her Firebrand boy.

But such an influence dart, that every eye

May sweare the Boy's o'th' Flavian Family,

And borne for Empire; for the times to come,

Will judge the mother to have been at Rome.

Then looking (on his chaine of Pearle, saith,

A way fond Merchandise, I will no more

Worship the East, and the rich Coast adore,

Adventure men, and lives at costly rates;

Euphema's are more safe, and gainfull Straights.

Shoot this Venetian Gulph, and say be rich,

Sanguine, above a Misers covetous itch!

He that [...]y such rare copeage Mounts, is sure

To break his neck, or live for e'r secure.

Not shee so rich, whom trucking Jove of old

Bought by conversion of himselfe to Gold:

Could I descend like him in a bright Flame,

In harmelesse fires I'd warme this Virgin Dame.

Was ever man so fortunate as I,

To be inchain'd thus to felicity?

Mother of Pearle, and Pearle, methinks we float,

Like Venus and Adonis in her boat

Of glittering shels: Euphema is alone,

(Daughter of Pirra) still the richest stone.

By this time Impotentio is return'd, who having fully acquainted his wife with his unnaturall desires, and the sodainnesse of the performance, thought she durst not trifle with his fury, or at leastwise would be unable to frustrate the yong▪ Merchants importunity. Euphema gave him no answer at all, but stupified with the sencelessenesse of his device, rested silent, and amaz'd. He left her mixing threats with entreaties, and gave her some small time to consider in a back Chamber next to her Bed-Chamber, which he vow'd was to be her Death-Bed, if shee refused. In this great conflict was the disconsolate Lady full of fears and teares, and amidst those passions, she thus disputed with her selfe:

What are my Crimes, just Heavens? or wherein

Have I given cause to my wild Husbands sinne?

Have I in thought abus'd his bed, or e'r

Admitted Lust, but kept this Conclave cleer,

Unravell me yee Powers; and let him see

The Residentials Court of Chastity.

A heart as pure, as when in sacrifice,

The pleasing incense calm'd the Deities:

From thence as from an Altar of pure snow,

Fervent desires for Sacred life did flow.

He tels me he is Impotent and cold,

What difference? he is, I will be old.

[Page] His youthfull daies are past, wish'd back againe,

And mine are bridled, govern'd by a reine;

His fire is out, and mine is well supprest,

Prayers and teares will quench a smoaking nest.

He hath no power to act, I have no minde;

A fitter match where could an old man finde?

He grieves my wants of due benevolence,

When it is ask'd, then let him take offence.

These two years day, (I'll put it to my sins)

If e'r I did sollicite at his shins.

I never went to Church, (some doe they say)

To get them servants, rather then to pray,

Nor to my confessour could ever tell,

(And I told all) this day I did not well;

Vnlesse it were Omission, when the time

Shortned my duty, and was part o'th' crime.

I came absolv'd from him; good man he [...]'d weep,

And wish his soule with mine did commerce keep.

If it be from above, my soule to try,

And be assured of my constancy,

Then give supplies, Thou that hast made me chast,

Nor let fowle Batteries my firmnesse wast;

Let no insultings force me to a fact,

Thy Sacred Laws hath made it death to act.

Shall I for fear of death doe that, which done,

Brings double death, twisted destruction?

Shall I, to get him glory o'r his Kinne,

Lose mine owne honour in a nasty sinne?

Away thou whispering Fiend! what's privacy?

Shall th' All-seer only this crime not see?

"Conceal'd and smother'd sinns have never end,

"Shame and deprênsion is a better friend,

"And wholesome chastisements cut off that vice,

"To which a hid successe doth more entice;

Propt by those Sacred helpes, I now defy

The worst of humane rage of Policy.

Eares be you deafe to charmes, keep clos'd chast Womb,

Rather then be Lusts Bed, be his Swords Tombe.

Alas, alas! her time grew short, and the howre glass was almost runne, which is the utmost limit of deliberation; wherefore recollecting all her best spirits, and calling up her Phancy to a sodaine assistance, (not knowing what her Husbands fury might provoke him to, upon a peremptory refusal) shee wisely contrives to elude him and his Stallion by quaint devices, hoping in good time to attemper her Husbands mind to more reason and Manhood, and let his Merchant know, that he was not bound for tha [...] Port. Shee call'd unto her instantly a stately Moor, nam'd Fuscilla, which the Clarissimo among other guifts, presented her with on the day of marriage; the Moore could understand no language but her [Page] owne, yet being as docile as an Elephant, and of as precious Teeth, by often teaching and practising, her Lady had so instructed her, that upon the motion of her fingers, eyes and head, nothing was unperform'd, that Euphema commanded. By these signes shee took instant notice of her Ladies intentions, and the night-Piece provided to put them with all hast in execution.

By this time the two transported persons were at the chamber door, which unwillingly open'd, as sensible of the ensuing mischiefe, and abhorring to give quiet entrance to such wicked visitors. Impotentio kept up his cheerfull looks, and said, Dearest, thou art still the same Euphema; but yet remember, unto what Planet more then any you are subject; she who rules and predominates over the sexe, permits a monethly change, thou onely in this one request dost imitate thy Cynthia. Suspect not any shadow of dislike, because of this friendly interposition betwixt us for a while, thou wilt appeare more glorious after a small Eclipse. Two Moons shine not at once, nor two Sunns, suffer me (best of women) to be in the waine at present, while I leave with thee solem & hominem.

Then whispering a short word to Sanguine, said, doe you look to make good the promise, and generate another. Her Husband gone, with a majestick look and full of modesty, Euphema fixing her eyes upon him, so aw'd the Sutor, that if Impotentio had not shut the doores upon 'um, he had Fac'd about, and never made stand againe; But as the Devill would have it, Rats, Cats and Dogs will make head, if they cannot fly any farther, so Sanguine lockt in his Armour, charges boldlier: Madam, said he, were not the way made by my loving friend your Husband, many preambles, much Oratory, and a great deale of Court-ship were requisite to a worke of this nature. Besides, my stint of time abridges all thought of Ceremony and complement, which I am not wanting in to Ladies of your quality; but what is defective in language, shall be made up in performance, that you shall (I hope to the honour of Angliterr) prove the least Talkers to be the best Doers.

Wherefore, most succinct Lady, (but otherwise now wish'd) remember that time is precious, and not to be plai'd withall. Let no scruples seize you, Madam, concerning my ability or wholesomnesse; my looks speak me sound, ther's no Compurgators like the complexion. Your Curtezan's (unlesse by name) are unknowne to me, nor came I from my own Country, after the chargeable experience of the Bath, Guiacum, or the Tub. I will not make apologies, hoping I shall cleare my selfe (Lady) in your judgement, and to your great satisfaction, and your Husbands joy, when by your owne confession he shall know, he did not delegate to his servico one unworthy, or unfit for the deputation. I stand upon my credit with the Clarissimo, to keep my reputation, and with your Ladiship, to beget it. Madam, speed to the tryall, wherein, such is the confidence of your new servant, that he shall thinke himselfe most happy, in having the beautifull Euphema, Judge, witnesse, and party in the businesse. Sir said the Lady, you are in place of my Husband, and your commands are his, give me the civility of withdrawing, and you shall not long be unprovided.

[Page]

CHAP. VIII.

Come see the Don with dismall dreames o'retaken,

(Yet in his sleep more valiant, then he's waking)

Gyant

A wine vessell made of a hogs skin.

Borachio for Pandafiland

Fals by his heavy and dead-doing hand.

This Sancho tels to's Queen Nicomicon,

But knew not whether's head be off or on.

Then with a Candle searcheth under's bed,

And all the bloody Roome for the Hogs-head:

But when Borachio's Second's understood

(Mine Host and's Wife) their wine-bags ran this blood;

The clutch-fist villaine scor'd in black and blew

On our Don's Face the Arreerages were due;

And as he gave him, what he wanted, souse,

Sleeper, said he, you're sure unto the house.

The Barber spoiled the Proverbe, for soone after

He wak'd the sleepy Knight with paile of water:

Thrown on those parts his halfe-shirt would not cover,

O're which a Kite would scorne, in hopes to hover.

Oh what a deepe confusion Sancho's in,

To find blood, wine, and Gyants-flesh hogs-skin!

But Don awak'd (yet dreaming more than ever)

Blesseth the sword that did the Gyant sever

Body from head; then makes the Curate Queen

(Himselfe, and that, both sights were never seen)

Once more to bed with him, hee's laid, and Fast,

Or sober rise, great Don, or sleep thy last.

In this same hush Anselmo's stories read,

In place of which we Sanguine bring to bed.

TEXT.

ARt thou in thy wits Sancho! What a Devill man! how can that be, seeing the Gyant lives two thousand leagues off.]

Nunquam quicquam veriùs dixit Licentiatus.

This truth might be justified without Text, or Quotations. But the most plaine truths will not be acknowledged by praepossessed minds. Sancho's head run all Gyant, and the Roome Gyants blood, and the Giants head was a running head, and made an escape, or else Sancho with the story had presented it to Dorothea.

By this they heard a marvelous great noise within the Chamber, and the Don cried out aloud, stay Thiefe, Robber, &c.]

Harke, Ieronymo is at it in his own person.

Who cals Ieronymo from his naked bed?

Strong fancies, Whimsies, and Imaginations; A Wall-eyed Gyant appeares to him, whether with a head, or without a head is very much suspected; but this Apparition, or Phantasme, workes such reall effects, that he [Page] forsakes his bed, takes his sword, and so slashes the doores and walls, that it shew'd more like a bawdy house than any thing else. So the great Iugurth, the night before the battell with the Romans, imagined they had taken th [...] field, himselfe unhors'd, and ran out from his Couch, crying:

A horse, a horse, a Kingdome for a horse;

Fetch me my brave Getulian horse,

That stands on end and fights.

Men of great atchievements have great disturbations, their spirits all ascending upward in such crowds, that the vapours▪ and dew of the braine is unable to allay them.

Alexander, after the murther of Hephestion his trustiest friend, rose often in the night, thinking that he called out for revenge, and could by no means be brought to steep againe, untill he had drowned his braines in Grecian VVine.

Achilles was so troubled with the thought of his undipped heele, and the sudden drawing on of the Trojan Battell, that he assayed many nights to fight with both his heeles together, which made him ever after splay-footed.

Hector's unquiet spirit, (whether for want of solemne interting or no is doubtfull) kept on this side the Elysian shore, and shewed his wounds to many trusty Trojans, but especially to Aen [...]as, who was ready to fly without his warning of ‘I, fuge nate Deâ, &c.’

Brutus, Cassius, Marke Antony, all these, and Caesar's selfe before his Assasination, and all active spirits are troubled with the rising in the nights, Mars himselfe not exempted; for though those Deities are said to be Insomnes, yet after a good rouze, or good dose of Nepenthe, they are in a trance, which is as good to them as our dull rest. For if they were alwaies waking, how could Vulcan so oft have taken Mars at a nap with Venus, that it was once his intention to have made a paire of Fetters, wherein he should have stood, and done pennance at his Forge. Nay, one of their Gods is Morpheus, an heavy-headed Numen, who indeed sleeps not all night, but at Cock-crowing he takes his bed, and there nuzzles till Hesperus cramps him by the toes.

Impute all these obambulations, and night-walkes, to the quick and fiery Atomes which did abound in our Don, as in all his brother Heroes that went before him; And how can it be attributed to any thing else, for it was as visible (as the Nose in the Face) that the Element of Fire did most predominate in him, choler licking up all the rest of the humours, and converting them into it selfe; his dyet below Lescius's would scarce make an excrement, that he might compare with a Mouse for the rarity of it; his parched body, black and withered flesh, and rusty haire, shewed that the fire was great within which made such a Chimney-piece. Lastly, His cloaths consumed by the fiery evaporations of his body, and nearer his (alter caloris fons) Testicles, no Linnen but perished like tinder at the touch, as will be made appeare in the next note.

He was in a shirt which was not long enough before to cover his thighs, and it was sixe fingers shorter behind.] A Semi-Adamite, but to be dipt in a red sea of good Claret, with Confirmation to ensue; yet though these [Page] accoutrements seeme so ridiculous to us now, they were in those daies the most proper and appointed fashions, and as well liked of as the steeple-crown'd hat, piccadillo, Corslet doublet, the Trunke hose, and Codpiece. Umbonically prominent, and significant as a Digitus Mercurialis, these were dresses not disproved by our Fore-Mothers; though if one should now appeare so, what twittering and peeping through the Fingers we should have? Well fare the Don, who keeping to the Customes of the old Heroes, will be known by his habits, as well as valour, to be one of them. Hercules Lyons skin (which was the pattern of most of these short robes) came not so low as his knees, and had the same disproportion with the Dons behind. His Oripygium was open to discovery; how was it possible else that the Graecian Dames should call him Melapyges, that is to say in our Mother Tongue, Black-dock, unlesse they had been peeping under the scantinesse of his yellow Coat of victory.

The Father of their Order, Great Alcides, receiving his death by a whole shirt dipped in the bloud of the Centaure Nessus: in detestation of the length of the shirt, and shortning of his daies, the Fraternity ever wore halfe shirts. All heroick persons are pictured in Bases and Buskins, or else starke naked (as the Don in Sierra Morena) to shew the immensity of their parts, the bignesse of their Muscles, the largenesse of their veines, the toughnesse of their nerves and sinews, which evidently shewed, that men of such proportion and naturall sufficiencies were purposely framed and intended for the destruction of Monsters, Men, or Beasts, and for the captivating all handsome Ladies, and the reliefe of all distressed.

He wreathed on his Armes the Coverlid of the bed.] An usuall piece of Armour in times of War betwixt the Gyants and the Gods; for the Gyants being by the advance of hils (which they heap'd together) raised to the middle Region of the Aire (which is the coldest) thought Rugs and Blankets the best Armory, lest they should perish more by encountring the place, than their enemies, and politiquely likewise surprised the Magazine and Artillery of the Gods. The Dons greasie night-cap (or rather mine Hoasts) was very considerable in a fight of swords, whose edges will yield and turne against pickled murrions, sweat and Ale being the only Muria, that will blunt the blow of any sharp weapon. Feather-beds breake Flints, soft and downy beds weaken the strongest bodies.

Dolus, an virtus, quis in hoste requiret?

If our Don was so politique in his sleep-Combates, what other stratagems do you thinke he had waking? Or if he could do so in a halfe shirt, what mad pranks would he play in a shirt and halfe?

The Hoste, all inflamed with rage, set upon Don Quixot with dry fists, and gave unto him so many blowes.] O indignity! dry-baste a Knight-Errant! and double dubb him of the Ill-favoured Face! A Knight Dormant, Ambulant, Combatant! Would no good hand direct our Blindman Buffe to forsake the wine bags and tap a fresh Vessell, the hogshead, the Hoste.

Poets will write whole Volumes of this scarre. How happily would a well driven blow been placed betwixt his neck and shoulders, who durst lay barbarous hands, (Fists, Gols, Beetles) and leave the slouches impressions upon the express of valour? Thus the sleeping Lyon is worried by a Curre. A Jack an Apes doth ride the generous horse! But oh the security of presumed [Page] victory! Chevaliers are insensible in a pursuit, and the successefull Don drencht in the Gyants blood, and trampling in it, (as the belly of an Oxe for the Gout) heeds not cuffs nor boxes of the eare, kicks in Ano, tweaks ad Nasum. But ‘Vino tortus & Irâ,’

Emboss'd and chaf'd like a hunted Boare, esteems nothing but speares, two-handed Swords, Polaxes, Cymitars, Javelins, and the like Engines of just and Noble War; as for buffets at this present, they are like Flea-bitings to a Leopard, not felt nor regarded.

Yet with all this did not the Poor Knight awake, untill the Barber brought a Kettle full of cold water from the Well, &c.]

[...]. Water is good for any thing: It will part dogs, it will make Pottage, and howsoe'r and wheresoe'r the Barber found out this recipe for a dead sleep, it was no dry device, Veritatem è puteo hauriunt tantam, the truth of it is, the very Probatum for a Lethargy, and drawn out of a deep well cures a deep sleep. The Moon was alwaies beholding to the Pleiades, for waking of Endymion. I doe believe the Barber learned it of a Mountebanck, and 'twas first taught him to awaken drunken customers, who fell asleep in trimming-while, and with the sprinkling of this Frigida, were restor'd to their senses againe, and paid for the nap, as well as the snip. But the circumforaneous Emperick rais'd his Fame, in using this admirable Element upon any other disease. An honest Farmer in some of the Townes, (where the Inhabitants at their proper costs and charges paid for being cheated every Market day) was a long time vext with a Priapismus, which is tentigo sine voluptate in instrumento generationis. To this Mountebanck he repaires, who having remedies for all diseases, could not be ignorant in this; and having told his tale, O saith he! gravis morbus, acutus, perniciosus; but that you may see that I love your Person more then your Purse, I will presently send home, and prepare a remedy for you, come an houre hence to my house, at the signe of the Cat and Fiddle, and you shall not faile of ease. About the time the patient came, and being brought into a private room, the Mountebanck said, (Sir) here is a Bath made with the coolest herbs that can be got in this place, and the most soverain Spring-water; for in your case, every ordinary water will not serve; therefore be confident, that after halfe an houres plounsing in this Bathing-tub, you will be eas'd of your paine. The silly Farmer followed his advice, and the effects prov'd answerable to his expectation, wherefore well sous'd and duckt he came forth, the Mountebanck demanding of him, how it wrought with him, and whether the tumour were not allayed, and his paine vanisht? The fellow answered with chattering teeth, (but not where they did) that it was pacified, and giving him a Fee, departed. The Mountebanck could not conteine, but acquaints his wife with the simplicity of his new Patient, and his disease, and instructed her, that his servant should prepare the same dose for him every morning; the Mountebanck being one day abroad, the Farmer came for his Cure, which his wife then, having opportunity, provided, and chang'd his cold Bath into a hot, but a very crosse Bath to the Mountebanck, and a horse-Bath to her selfe.

He was preparing double Fees for her, but she said, I am contented, satisfied, and paid, and told him, if this Bath lik'd him better, he should with [Page] convenience use it oftner. But the simple fellow not using to the Bath, so oft as he did before, one day the Mountebanck spying him, call'd him, and smiling, said, well friend, I hope you are perfectly cur'd now, farre better then before, for you put me not into the best Bath which your wife hath, and the vertue of it yet remaines, whereas your cold Bath cool'd for a day, and the next morning all was as it was before. The Mountebanck shak'd his ears, (as if he drank base wine) and giving the fellow back his first Fees, and cursing him for his second, desir'd him silence, and not let any man know, or of the cold or hot Bath.

He laid himselfe on his knees before the Curate, and said; well may your greatness, &c.] A just contrary error personae was committed at a play in Bellosite, where the Epilogue was to be address'd to the Emperor, but the ignorant Actor, who was to deliver his speech upon the knee, lookt about for the greatest Person among the Auditors, which prov'd to be the Hostesse of the Inne where it was Acted, shee was set upon the Table in a great Chair, unto whom with genuflexion, he spoke these lines:

With bended knees (great Caesar) we

Addresse our Epilogue to thee,

Who hither in great State art come,

To see the Comaedy of Jack Drumme.

Our knees doe render thee obeysance,

For deighning us thy dreadfull presence;

Maist thou grow greater still, and thrive,

Till thou art greatest thing alive.

O let thy loines so fruitfull be,

To sociate all Monarchy;

And may your next stupendious birth

Be the Leviathan o'th' earth.

The Hostesse extreamly netled, left her chaire of State, and ran after the Epilogue-speaker, and gave him a very great and sound Plaudit about the Eares.

The Barber, the Curate, and Cardenio, got Don Quixot to bed againe, not without much adoe, who presently fell asleep.] Three to one is odds, yield stout heart, and thinke it no shame to be overcome by multitudes, and all of them either Inchanters, or inchanted; the Barber transform'd into an Ox backward, (as homo est arbos reversa) so was Tonsor (Bos reversus:) Cardenio a scape Goat, newly transform'd into a man againe; and the Curate the Inchanter, as will appeare very well to all the world, by these verses found in Cyd Hameti Benengeli, and by a Moderne Poet translated, whereby the Don was like Circes Captives, charm'd into a sleep, deep as his high thoughts.

Quixots Philtrum adsomnum, or Lullaby to a Mad man.

Deep sleep arrest thy troubled soule:

No Bird of night (enough's one Owle)

[Page] Disturbe thy Quiet, Gnat nor Flea,

Approach this rare spred Canopy;

Under whose Cob-web Arches lies

The Knight that fights with fast shut eyes:

Nor of his valour meaner think;

Cowards they are that fight and wink.

Wave thrice thy Wand about his head,

Morpheus; and it shall be as lead.

Thy sleepy Tribes attend our Don,

And charme him like Endymion.

On this side thousand Dormiçe sleep,

As many Beetles that side keep;

Millions of winter Flies fast stick

Close to his night Cap, as a Tick:

And lest his Nose should wake the

Growt for great, especially now under a swarme of Flyes. Ephialtes is the, Night-Mare, but he was more troubled

Growt,

Fasten these Poppies to his snout;

Tie both his feet together well,

In this benumm'd Torpedos shell:

And to secure the

with his horse by the Night.

Ephialtes,

Turne him from's back, for there the fault is.

Annoint his Thighs and Calfelesse Legs

With oyles of foolish Dottrels Eggs.

Nothing that eates i't'h Night be neer,

Remove lanck Rosinant from his eare.

Clense not the Wine-bedaubed room,

It is a strong Narcotick Fume:

And that no dreames nor thoughts of fights

With Gyants, Ladies, or their Knights

Vnlock his Fancy or his Tongue,

Stop up his mouth with soft Mouse dung:

His head thus clos'd, (like to an Oven)

His tongue cann't walk, though it were cloven.

And in his eare (somewhat profuse.)

Infuse this dull Lethaean juice.

Which taken from that stupid Lake,

Will never let this prisoner wake,

Vntill this Philtrum backward read,

Doe Un-Gorgonify his head.

And he desiring to delight them all herein, and recreate himselfe, did prosecute the tale in this manner.] In this calme, if ever it is possible to compleate our parallel story of Anselmo, and as Mr Curate is ready to satisfie his inclinable Auditors with the Lecture of me Curious Impertinent, so it is my endeavour to convince Mr Curates opinion of the impossibility of his well contriv'd, though suspected narrative, by a simile of an Incurious Malecontent.

Euphema left Sanguine exalted in his thoughts, above an ordinary transportation; his imagination working beyond the delights of dull fruition: whereby he took the very Pictures in the room for Ladies, and sorry to [Page] see them no farther drawne, curs'd the scanty Painter, who had not finisht them at full length. In an eminent part of the Chamber, was one large piece with a Curtaine spred before it, which tempted him to display it; which being rashly unveil'd, startled the bold discoverer, so that he stood extatiz'd at that Picture, whose person and substance his soule thirsted for. It was Euphema in her haire, at full proportion, in a blew rich embroyder'd Mantle, preparing for bed (as the fond Clarissimo, the first night he met her, would have it pourtraicted) in golden letters; on the top of the piece was set Aetatis 16. and in as rich Characters underneath, redde similem si possis. The lively appearance operates so strongly on our Merchant, that he broke into many wild conceits, and amongst them these are remembred.

Which is Euphema? or Euphema gone?

Or this i'th' frame? or are you both but one?

Speake, and thou art the Antitype; if shee

Is silent, shee must needs the Picture be.

Descend faire piece, or let me climbe; I'll do't,

He that won't climbe the tree, deserves no fruit.

Prosper me Venus, as the Mantle fals

Double away: These are sufficient cals.

L [...]quere, ut i [...] videa [...]; si vox possit esse perspi [...]ex Oculi [...] vocales.

Look if her eyes don't speak! what doth it say?

Trifle no longer (Sanguine) come away.

O coward Heart! how basely wilt thou faint,

To draw neer her, who tremblest at her Paint?

Go hang together, Pictures both; may I

Have not such life, as the rare Imag'ry.

The purple blood in Azure channell glides,

That you may see the Harveian ebs and tides.

I am a piece of Arras, only fit

To be discours'd on, where the Lady fits,

And to make ugly legs, as you may see,

The cringing wights in mouldy Tapestry.

In these [...]dumps, exaltations, fals and rises, a Sonnet did relieve him, contriv'd by Impotentio, who like a Swanne before the death of his departing honour, sung sweetly these lines, which by the sodaine rushing open of Euphema's Chamber door, was clearly heard and understood by Sanguine.

A Sonnet.

Come to thy Dan [...]e, come,

The treasure of this Roome;

Care for no showres of pelfe,

Only showre down thy selfe.

Come, my Alcmena waits,

Wrought by my subtle baits:

And both expect thy loves

As fortunate as Joves.

[Page] Crown me but Father then,

And who so proud of men

As I? who joyfull know,

I am Amphitruo.

Sanguine was singularly well pleased with the excellency of the Tune, but more really heightned with the matter of the ditty, which assur'd him of the neer approach of his desires; and forthwith a gentleman lighted him into a Chamber of much rich furniture, and in it a stately bed, and not far from that place a side-Table rich, and deckt like an Altar, he follow'd his courteous conduct, who opened one of the Curtaines of the bed, where he discovered his Euphema lay. The convoy presently departed, leaving him to his privacy, with a Virgin-waxe-light, in a golden Candlestick, supported by a brace of Cupids. Every thing was admirable, but the Venetian Paradise, which he was straight to enter, would not permit him to fixe upon any subject but its owne selfe; wherefore with Pigeon speed he flew into his Venus, whom he found laid averse, and with her face from him. To whom he softly, said, Madam, 'tis improper now to be coy, and therewithall he insinuated his warme hands into her Bosome, which was as soft as silke, or the choice Downe of Swanns, and with all gentlenesse turn'd her about, her face being cover'd with double Tissues, he coveted to behold, and labouring to unveile her, Madam (said he) these Chrisomes remov'd, your sweet innocency will appeare more singular and ravishing; whereat Fuseilla in a language as hard as her favour, screem'd out; ‘Haw Taxpo I [...]ysavoy?’

Which in the Antient AEgyptian Characters signifies, what a Pox aile [...] you? But he bustling still to unscreen her fully, shee then shreekt out, crying, ‘O veldi voy Thi wog.’ Which amounts to in the Primitive Welsh, the Divell goe with you. Her prayer was heard, for he no sooner saw the face, but he leap'd from the bed, as if the Devill had drove him, repeating a short piece of new Letany.

Sancti, Sancti omnes, liberate me

A Plutonis horrendâ conjuge.

After him the night-piece ran, made more terrible by her gay and precious outside▪ the strange gogling and moving her eyes, shaking her extuberant and reverst lips, gnashing her Ivory Teeth, the menacing and clutching her sooty fists, did so affright and terrify the poor naked gentleman, that he wish'd himselfe transform'd into any thing, but of a Hog, for feare of being possest. These Clamors brought back Impotentio, jealous that his designe was interrupted by some scurvy accident or other, and entring into a Patritian night-Gowne, and rich wast-Coate, with his sword in one hand, and in the other a Pistoll prim'd, finding Sanguine in a distraction, and the cause of it at his heels, apprehending the delusion, Osperma Diabli, are you an Actor with your Westphalia Armour, I'll try if it be proofe (said he) and immediately discharg'd a Pistoll at her, which lighting on her shoulder plate, bruis'd and wounded the poor Moor, that shee roar'd out so hideously, as if shee were going to her winter quarters, and falling [Page] to the ground, with her hand pointed up to Heaven, and then downe to the Earth, intimated that the Powers above would send 'um both to answer it below.

Euphemae hearing the Pistoll goe off, came into the room in her Night-dresse, and a black Velvet Mantle over her, with a Book in her hand, but beholding the sad mishap of her bleeding servant, shee ranne in to her succour. Impotentio was directing his Rapier unto her Breast, when Sanguine (untill then melancholy) interpos'd himselfe betwixt her and the imminent danger, beseeching the Clarissimo to abandon such a mischiefe, which though it happily befell that Hell-Cat, yet this act would never be forgiven above, or find pardon amongst men. But Impotentio raging with revenge, and with eyes and hands, menacing, that what was now intercepted, should not long be deferr'd, spurning at her, with language sharper then his Rapiers point, and more wounding; said, Whore! have you us'd me thus? Shee turn'd her head about from the Negro, and only replyed; my Lord, that word is not yet my due, and I have done all this that it may never be, and that your name may not be read in the vaine Register of easie natur'd men, or mine amongst that of over-kinde Ladies. Then turning on her. knees to Sanguine, said, Sir, you that have been so Noble as to save my life by a hazardous interposition of your person, proceed to higher vertue, and save, protect, and vindicate that, which unto me is dearer, (and ought to be so to every generous soule) a fame unspotted, a chast Breast, and the honour of a yet undefiled bed. Here are but two of you, and three Thieves and Murderers. My Husband (and then shee wept abundantly, will posterity believe it of a Husband?) seeks to kill me for that he should wish me a thousand lives: And both of you, (the worst of Robbers) have conspir'd to deprive me of a Jewell the Heavens bestow'd on me, and I have vow'd to keep. Have you not read (Sir) turning to her Husband, you may not kill? Look on this fainting Maid, whose intentions to preserve chastity, argues her soule not of the same hue with her course outside, and proves you foule within, and the worse Negro.

Have you not read, young Gentleman, (sure did you goe further then the sixth Commandement) a prohibition against this very sinne? will you turne journey-man to the Divell? take heed: Shee would have said more, but Impotentio heated with rage, (unhand me friend I pray you but a moment) and with looks full of Italian malice, said, are you preaching Mistresse Knipper-Dolin? yet heare me, and obey me too, or take this Gentleman, or death: Then looking toward the bed, nodded, and said, that or the grave, and so biting his thumbes, a sign of fixt and determin'd cruelty, he left her, calling for a servant to draw off the Moor, and conveigh her to a lodging, where for want of timely dressing, shee almost expir'd. All but Sanguine and Euphema were remov'd, who took her gently from her knees, weeping, and imploring Heaven for protection. In pure desire Lady of saving Christian blood (for Pagan is already split) I prosecute (said he) your Husbands will.

Be not, O be not your selfe-Murderer,

In your refusall life and honour's lost:

[Page] Think you your Husband will preserve your Fame?

Who would not spare your life? will he not say

To vindicate himselfe, you did that thing,

Which you abhorr'd life for? so kills you twice,

For not doing that, which done, you' [...] sure to live.

Who shall, who can reveale your forc'd complyance?

Whom doe you wrong? your Husband is most willing;

How many doe the same without consent?

Only for itch of change, for no good end,

As this of yours; yours is another case,

To prosecute the end of Marriage,

Barr'd in your Husbands confess'd impotence;

If I should faile, ten thousand sinns are in't.

But Lady be as sure of that successe,

As if you felt the glorious Embryon swell

In your increased Orb.—Those are no Whores,

Whose Husbands hire supplies, and hold the doors.

Euphema hearing his blasphemies, and Hell-borne Rhetorick, fell againe on her knees, and desir'd his pardon, that shee had given him leave to suspect her Faith and chastity, by giving eare to his loose and impious discourse; then calling Heaven to witnesse, and assist her constancy, shee drew from that part, where her buske was us'd to be plac'd, a Ponyard, and turning the point upon her selfe, shee spoke these, as shee thought her last lines:

That in my soule I may n't dye Negro-like,

When I command thee, trusty Ponyard strike.

And tremble not pure han [...]s; your cure is good,

To let, before it be corrupted, blood:

How oft have I you two, to Heaven up-lift,

That thither you lift mee's my only drift.

Open the way, that my imprison'd soule,

Returne as it came thence, a spotlesse scrowle.

I gave you once into anothers power,

Now I resume you to my owne devoyr.

As nature made me my defence and Guard,

Giving one blow, a hundred worse you ward.

Commanded men their Captaine must obey;

Then strike, the word is given: Euphema slay.

At which words Sanguine was bloodlesse, and kneeling to her, said, Madam, if you persist in this desperate resolution, I will not live a minute after you, and will dye by the same Ponyard, mixing at least, our bloods thus, which might have been done another way to more content on both sides. Then with eyes full of Majestick horror, and lovely desperatenesse, shee said, I have a word or two to speak, and then farewell.

I guesse you are a single man, whose sports

Are, the base boasted vanquishing those Forts

[Page] That yield to your assaults; those that repell

Your lustfull stormes, bely'd, you take as well;

So that all Ladies Credits you abuse,

The honest by your slander, those you use

After, and in the Fact: your obscaene Tongue

Spreading abroad the home-made nasty dung,

Delighting in your shame: I shall take care

To keep our bodies cleane, and your tongue faire.

But tell me (Sir) it is my last request,

Are you with Mother, or a Sister blest?

With both, (best Lady) replied Sanguine, and both are in the holy state of Matrimony, (but biting his lips, said privately, that word, holy, might have been well omitted,) she proceeded thus:

And dost thou love and honour them? you do.

But wouldst thou count them worth it, if you knew

The one had wrong'd thy Fathers bed? or she

(Who doubtlesse hath her graces, if of thee

She hath as much as face) were at this time

Doing what I do deprecate? This Crime.

Me thinks I see a noble fire arise,

And glorious sparkes in thy incensed eyes

'Gainst them, and their deflourers.—

Sanguine was somewhat startled at her quaeries, yet as for his mother he was secure, being on the worst side of fifty. But his Sister was very young, and deare to him, and at that time about his breast hung her Picture, set in a rich Ovall, which recalled her to his memory fresh as if she had been present, which he was willing to divert, and therefore he desired her Ladyship to presse these points no farther, unlesse in bed, where, being matters of the sheets, they are most properly treated of. Then Euphema, quite out of hopes to convert him, or make him any way sensible of his errour, resolved to try one weapon more (and if he persisted) after that to end her life upon the Ponyard.

Thou hast a Mistris sure, (one of thy Love,

Not Lust) were that reputed spotlesse Dove,

(I deeme her so, may she so for ever.)

Such as thou wouldst make me, though thou canst never,

A whore, a perjured wife, a bosome-thiefe,

A nest of Snakes? for such is the reliefe

Of bastard issue, which thou boasts to lend's,

Like the foule gelly from falne stars descends.

Couldst thou with patience cherish her?

Reward the goatish, ranck Adulterer?

And kisse those Babies as thine own, and blesse

The spurious spawne of an Adulteresse?

[Page] Madam, said Sanguine, I should kick her, her Barnes, her Stallion into the aire unto the Prince of it, (their Ghostly Father) but innocent Lady, though it be true, every one should do as he would be done by, and harme watch harme catch are good rules, yet at this time they are misapplied, and quite beside the purpose. And to be true to you (Lady) I have no Mistris of that nature; then straight Euphema rejoyn'd:

Suppose that I were she, as who can guesse

How soone my husbands low-r [...]n glasse may cease?

Couldst thou accept me for a wife, who have

Wrong'd my repute before he's laid t'th' grave?

Sure a pure Chrystall would more pleasant be

Than a Speekt glasse tainted by venemous eye.

O change thy mind, thy hopes may not be far,

Preferre no Falling to a Fixed star.

At these words Sanguine, brought lower than his knees, fell prostrate, and beseeched her Ladiship that she would pardon his bold solicitation. And calling Heaven and Earth, Angels and Men to witnesse, All that he feared hereafter, or desired, if, Madam, (said he) you and the Fates decree me to that happinesse, and at once provide to blesse me both in soule and body, it is not seven yeares expectation can weary out my patience; nay, those yeares (though I wish not the prolongation of my felicity) repeated would make me value my purchase the more by the gratefull stay before fruition. And I shall wish to perish to eternity rather than adde a thought more to this loathsome sute. I hate my selfe now for it, (I cannot say more than I love you) but I hate my selfe perfectly, villaine, monster of my Sexe, that came to spoile the miracle of hers; unlesse your clemency raise me from this place (Madam) I will grow to it, and not looke to heaven (that is, not you in the face) untill I find your serenity in assured forgetfulnesse of what is past. Euphema, confident that these expressions were not feigned, said, Sir, Your repentance doth oblige me to remission of past follies; and your protestations of fidelity are so high, that I will not question the faith of the speaker, or have the least scruple of doubt about it. Absolved, and credited, (my trusty and well accounted servant) let us in a noble and just conspiracy joine to elude my husbands fury and suspition both together, which cannot be but by a seeming losse of that ehastity, preservable in being supposed lost. I have heard much of Platonick love, now I will make experience of it, and in that height that Impotentio shall be satisfied in my obedience (as he calls it) if the dutifull submission to so base an Act can please any long. And as for you friend (when the just time for such a motion shall permit) I am to be challenged upon the promise, which I shall not recede from, you using the modesty and reverence of a Sutor. Sanguine, upon these words, religiously kissed her, and confirmed his perseverance in all chaste and civill deportments to her for ever. There hung by the bed-side a rich and glorious Cymitar, and they entring together the same sheets, it was laid betwixt them emblematically, designing the danger of violated oaths, or else as a Ceremony preceding (after the manner of espoused Queens) and ratifying the Contract. Sanguine, (no doubt) wished the [Page] crooked weapon edgewaies upon Impotentios last thread of life, that it might prove his Atropos, and make a short cut to their desires. But checking his recoyling thoughts, he asked the Ladies leave to charme her eyes asleep with this ensuing Song.

1.

Sublimed Love, Calcin'd desires,

Thoughts rarified to harmelesse fires,

And muzled Flesh with bloud refin'd,

Attend my new Platonick mind.

2.

Eyes that have ta'ne the Covenant,

And lift up hands with pulses faint,

Stopp'd eares, tied tongue, dead taste and touch,

Will help the new Platonick much.

3.

Thus tam'd, thus rein'd, thus mortified,

Approach the chastest Ladies side:

Rebated senses only prove

Me fit for the Platonick Love.

4.

But let our soules emigrate meet,

And in Abstract embraces greet,

(Till that the Fates permit) let's live

Intranc'd, by Love Intuitive.

Impotentio, greedy to know the newes of his own dishonour, posted so soone to his wives Chamber, that Sanguine had scarce time to returne the Cymitar to its place, and himselfe to his drawers; but finding his Merchant in that posture, he saluted him as newly arrived from Cape Bonae Speranzae. And so it is Sir, said Sanguine, to you Impotentio a night of hopes, but to me a Labour in vaine. You need not now feare your brothers intrusion on your Estate, here is (noble Clarissimo) pointing to the most delicate Euphema. Meaning, a [...]dy in the bed, that would not suffer any strange C [...]ction. Intus existens alienum prohibens. Then ran the imaginary Wittall to Euphema, and joyed her by the name of Mother; kissed her, and bid her love his friend, who had done more far for her than her husband could. It was my griefe (said she) to find it so, though he hath proved himselfe a man of honour, reputation, and ability, and hath laid the seeds of a long trust in me. It should be so (said Impotentio) but let us thinke what Gossips we shall have; The Duke will not deny me I am sure, and the great Monsieur Le Spraffe, Leiger from France. Sanguine replied, nay Sir, thinke me not so able (though 'tis pretty well with me) to get Children o'r night, to be borne men the next morning; we are sure of our Workmanship according to the naturall way in due time, but for miracles you must not look. While they were in these discourses, in came an old maid-servant very ghastly with watching all night, wringing her hands, and crying, Oh my Lord, Oh my good Madam, what shall betide me! the Moore is dead, and in the piousest manner, as we could guesse, as any Christian could dye; her hands often lift up to heaven, sighing and making signes as if she cared not for her own death if her Ladies were secure, and for want of timely salves expired in my Armos. Woe is me that she died in my Armes! I shall never thinke well of my selfe for it; I have lived these fifty yeares [Page] with my old Lord, and truly no body ever died in my armes before but your Lordships gibb'd Cat (rest his soule) that died of a bone crosse his throat, and I kept my bed a month upon it, and what will follow after this who can tell? The foolish story of the old nurse-woman troubled Impotentio, who loved Fuseilla (though his Slave) for the love of his wife to her, and it in wardly grieved him that by his rashnesse she was destroyed. It was not long after that he sickned himselfe, reflecting deeply upon the murder of the Moore, (which was openly bewailed) but the deepe touch of Conscience for the abuse of his most constant wife was the maine stab; it was never well with the poore creature after that libbing fellow was in the house. ‘Hoc tibi Penelope!’ What be as bad and worse than her luxurious Sutors! and now that his foolish brutish humour was fulfilled, the inhumanity and barbarisme of the Fact stung him worse than Cleopatra's Vipers, hearing the fall of her Amours to Marke Antonie. Little Ascanius too must play in his Hall, the long brand of his dishonour; and he reputed his, though no man could believe it; wherefore disturbed in mind, and every day decaying in strength, he intended to make a quiet end, though he lived, since the time of marriage very pettishly: Considering also that the abuse of his wife was his own invention, nothing was more worthy in his imagination then to hate her for obeying his will, and submitting upon force and execrtable threats; and below his anger it seemed to maligne the fruit which he himselfe inoculated; wherefore he sent for his brother, and reconciled the differences betwixt their Families, and satisfied his expectations, confirming his eldest son in a faire estate; then, sending for Euphema, said, we are now private, and you see how fast I decline, there is no dallying, nor hypocrisie to be used, a small moment being betwixt me and my account; wherefore as I desire it whither I am going, so I heartily beg your pardon for my rash and ridiculous rape upon your Chastity. Conceale my folly, (faithfullest of wives) though what I have done cannot long be kept close. Let his name be (if a Male) Potentio, and do thou endowe him as his manners shall hereafter deserve. The Child is innocent, (pointing to her rising mount) and fruits of this nature, though they grow wildings, prove rarely off the tree, and become Queene Apples, the delight of their Princesses, and fervants of great trust; a more generous flavour, and vigorous contagion giving influence at those stolne and illegitimate births than when legall duties are performed. 'Tis not therefore that you should be ashamed of him, nor discourage his active spirits, which that I may improve unto him, the executrixship of all is thine, and thou canst not hate what with such paines and dolours thou must dearely buy; the Quarrels betwixt my Brother and my selfe composed, thou wilt have no trouble but this stripling, and then he sigh'd and wept bitterly, being almost at his last gaspe; which Euphema perceiving by his short breathings, instantly fell down on her knees. 'Tis pity (worthy soule) to let thee go out of this world deceived, in that thing too which you do most repent of, and in whom you think the grand blemish of your house will for ever survive; Depart, Sir, as to that matter, satisfied in this discovery. Here is Ascanius and Astyanax the hopefull issue of my impurity, and drawing from underneath a fine wrought silken [Page] rowle absolv'd him of the jealousie. This is your Angliterra-man, which according to the times of growth, hath been lesse or bigger, pardon my imposturage, not long durable; for I was resolv'd to free you of suspition, Sanguine is as innocent as this rowle for any act with me, nay more innocent, for Heavens forbid, he should ever have come so neer me. Impotentio made a spring up in his bed, and kiss'd her, and forthwith dyed, having confirm'd her in a vast estate, and left her Convert to be her comforter, those dayes of publike sorrow over, they married without the intervening of a Cymitar.

CHAP. IX.

Mine Host is wild: Here comes a Carava [...],

Sing, Gaudeamus gaudia Magna, man!

What fangle now, thy thronged guests to winne,

To get more Roome, faith goe to Inne and Inne.

Leave off Romances, and thy lies in Print,

Thy house hath nought but Current Stories in't.

Things now in action, and the George must be

The Scene, and perfect the Catastrophe.

Ferdinando thinking to make sure Luscind,

Is outed there, where he had thought to have Inn'd.

And sad Cardenio, who fear'd all was nought,

Is from his Spouse Heroicke stoutnesse taught.

Fair Dorothaea, (hight Nicomicon)

Leaves all her Kingdome to her Champion,

(Drowsie Don Quixot) and prefers the embrace

Of Ferd'nand 'fore the title of her Grace.

Thus Chast Luscinda scaped her pursuer,

And Dorothaea met with her undoer.

Relations passe of severall misfortunes,

And all offence is pardon'd 'twixt the Curteines.

Tope it about mine Host; the wine bags now

Had been as good, as milke of the red Cow.

But O what Cordiall for poor Sancho's got,

Sad beyond all refreshments of the pot!

Ungovern'd, Uncardinall'd, Unlorded,

Outed of all his hopes, but not Unworded;

He sees and weeps, and with unfeigned teares,

Curses Knight-Errants, and the Fools their Squires,

Resolving to returne unto the Mancha

As he went forth, an Asse, and Sancho Pancha.

[Page]

TEXT.

THE Inne-keeper said, here comes a faire Troupe of Guests, and if they will here alight, we may sing Gaudeamus.] Such indeed are true Saints dayes to the Hosts, and here two or more are met together; Sancta Dorothae [...], an authentick Saint; Luscinda, a Virgin Martyr; Cardenio, a devout Pilgrim; And Don Ferdinand after his pennance, join'd with Sancta Clara of Viedma, (who will crowd in anon for a lodging) may very well make holiday and a halfe. 'Twas very proper for these Saints to alight at the sign of Saint George, who [...]lew the Dragon which was to prey upon the Virgin: The truth of which story hath been abus'd by his own Country-men, who almost deny all the particulars of it, as I have read in a scurrilous Epigram, very much impairing the credit and Legend of St George; As followeth.

They say there is no Dragon,

Nor no Saint George 'tis said.

Saint George and Dragon lost,

Pray Heaven there be a Maid!

But it was smartly return'd to, in this manner.

Saint George indeed is dead,

And the fell Dragon slaine;

The Maid liv'd so and dyed,

Shee'll ne'r doe so againe.

Here Virginity is highly justified, not so much in Luscinda chast in the Nunnery, but chas'd out of it by the lustfull Ferdinand. Indeed Dorothaea is a pregnant proofe of constancy, and disproves that vulgar error, that a blowne Rose is not so sweet as a clos'd, when 'tis well knowne, that a little aire or vent disperses their Odours. How much of her worth had been hidden, if her gentlewoman had not been educated and instructed, at what times to stay, at what times to retire from her Ladies Chamber, which is as necessary a skill, as to pinne, lace, combe, order a Beauty-speck, or make a Caudle, and eat halfe on't.

I shall give you a short account of this successefull meeting, as it was translated out of the Arabian Writer into Latine, and found in his Copy, who render'd it into Spanish.

Happy Receipt of wandring wights,

In which at once doe meet

As in a Cave, after affrights,

Of stormy wind and sleet,

Aeneas and the Carthage Queen;

And what they did i'th' denn,

As these i'th' house (got to a screen)

Is guess'd both now and then.

Don Ferdinand resignes his lasse

Vnto Cardenio ragged,

[Page] Or else his dayes he means to passe

Upon the mountaine cragged.

Luscinda double honour merits,

For playing of her game,

Who would not let his Lordships ferrets

Usurpe on Rabbits t [...]me.

But Dorothaeas nimble wits

On Ferdinand prevailes,

And makes him vow, as it befits,

They never would turne tailes.

The blushing Rivals then salute,

But Ferdinand more shamed,

Desir'd the money, for the Brutes

Might never more be named.

The gentle Knight Cardenio,

Gave pardon and did crave,

For praysing his beloved so,

Before shee was i'th' grave.

Commend their beauties when they'r gone,

When death hath barr'd accesse,

Then you may safely trust a Don,

With any cold Countesse.

Luscinda then, and Dorothy kisse,

The Nunne, and the young wife;

Who, if her Lord had done amisse,

Must ever been at strife.

Luscinda said, that flight was it,

That sav'd her from that Lure,

But Dorothy said, shee did submit,

And made the Thing Cock-sure.

Thus Lords and Knights were all appeas'd,

The Lady and the Nunne,

Her stealing from the Cloyster pleas'd

On this condition.

Let us now try whether we can finde you with variety, and present a company at an Inne as merry as these, where the guests and the Host are all jocund; and it may chance those that hear it or read it may be as blithe as the persons in it.

It was in that Country, which is faire for its Lands, commodious for Havens, and famous for Innes, and at an Inne in that Country, which hath one Roome, and one Bed in that Roome of more receipt then the Host of Andalusia's whole house: Hither it was, where a Quaternion of Knights and Ladies resolv'd to take their recreation; they were very richly set forth, both men and women; yet the unusualnesse of such apparell, and their ill management, and odd carriage in their bravery, made them suspected to the Inn-keeper, that they were not what they would be reputed, or else (if he was deceived in that conjecture) he tooke them for some new-fledg'd [Page] gentry, lately hatch'd in that warme Oven, the grand Metropolis, and had made this the first flight to aire their fine, but tender feathers, and try their wings. But the variety of their habits distracted him more then all, which made them appear like persons of several Countries, yet their tongue was all one, and their faces (not indeed so like, as Hertford shire sheep) but such as might discover them to be of one Nation. A Caroch of a substantiall Axletree, brought six of them, and Monsieur Suteur, and Signior Clippochop [...] rode before to provide the entertainment, which Bill of fare the Inn-keeper (after perfect disquisition, which he partly conjectur'd, and partly dranke the Caroch-man into confession of) his ingenuity put into a short Canto, in memory of his guests and their provisions.

A Sonnet,

1.

A goodly Rumbouze of Canary,

A lusty dish of egs and Clar-ee;

Botergo and the stirring Collups

Make ready for my bouncing Trollups:

Mounsieur Suteur will have it be

For his Madama Da-plusee.

2.

A grand Sallad with oyle D'Zant,

Mustrumps Muriat, (the Gods Provant)

Frogs order'd, All a Mode de France,

A larded Venisons ample Hanch;

Capon with Links and Oysters bigg,

Are for Madona Perivigg.

3.

An Hotch-potch, and Olla-Podridas,

Some rost, some sod, a meat for high daies.

An All to Mall of all the Creature,

Great dishes, like the spreading Eater;

Bread, Broder, Bacon, Boutter sal [...]en,

Provided be for steepen Malten.

4.

A dish of Olives Genoise,

A Sheeps shoulder of the largest size,

Breast with Anchovaes sawce and Claret,

(They shall be sure to pay me soundly for it.)

Crabs, Lobsters, and the Trout of Trent,

Were drest for Madam Corpulent.

As much of these dainties as could be, were provided, and the Innekeeper Marshall'd the dishes, being Sewer and gentleman of the Ceremonies himselfe; at a round Table they sate, and intermix'd, a Knight and a Lady were very handsomely checquer'd; and Daplusee and Periwiga, were the best train'd paire there, and had seen fashions abroad, and were now trickt up in two great Ladies new Gownes, which was a customary service [Page] the Mounsieur ow'd his wife, and at this time his wives friend, before the Sutes were carried home: Insomuch, that his Daplusee was the most noted for new Dresses and shifts of Apparell of any where shee liv'd; but the Protean Tayloresse, nor her Husband Akillouse, could never be found in the same shape above once, that their neighbours wondred where she had supplies for their various Wardrobe. Shee undertook the carving, and handsomely dispens'd the cheer about; but not with so good grace did the men carry it out, who, some slovens, and some penurious, very much disparag'd their apparell and their Ladies. For Mounsieur Suteur was espied by his wife, scoring the reckoning of Jugs, and quarts of Wine, by the losing a button on his doublet for the one, and his sleeves for the other. Insomuch, that had not Daplusee taken him a Button lower, his whole set would not have serv'd the turne for Supper-account in liquor, for his neighbour Gallinego the Vintner, and Flounderferkin the Brewer did so ply his little body, and his Brothers Clippochopo so hard, that they were not able to endure the narrow precincts of their new clothes; but unbutton'd all, and lost at once, wits and reckoning. Their Ladies are very joyfull to see them so cheerfull, for they were never fit for Ladies indeed, but when they were a little Monkey, then they are all Love; the prettiest Cubs to play withall, that Paris Garden affords, then you may command all, that is, their purses, which nothing will open, but the disclosing juice of the grape. Dame Corpulent accosted their slender sisters, and told them, lacing so close spoil'd their breaths, and did very much infringe the liberty of their bodies, and for example sake, shewed them by what meanes themselves came to the full extent and widenesse of their skins; which was express'd by dispatching a lusty Rummer of Rhenish to little Periwig, who pass'd it instantly to steepen Malten, and shee conveigh'd with much agility to Daplusee, who made bold to stretch the Countesses Gowne into a pledge, and Cover and Come, which was the only plausible Mode of drinking, they delighted in: This was precisely observ'd by the other three, that their moistned braines gave leave for their glibb'd tongues to chat liberally, then every ones Sute, Gorgets, and attire were censur'd, their fancies compar'd, every one undervaluing the others, and highly praising their Husbands liberality, when perchance they were the presents that some welcome servant had gratified them with. From themselves they proceed to descant on their neighbours; and (good lack) what faults they found every where. Mrs Almond the Confectioners wife is much set behind, because shee wanted a good Dresser, and never was pinn'd handsomely, but her things stood awry. Mrs Figg the Grocers wife as much condemn'd, that she had not yet left off her Hat, and put her selfe into a Bag; and such a one had spoil'd all her teeth before shee was eighteen with Sweet meats, that shee never durst laugh without her handkerchieffe, otherwise the woman was a feat one. And Mrs such a one never came abroad powder'd enough to take away the scent of her body; which was the cause shee never came neer the fire. But above all they admired Mrs Spruce the Parsons wife, who though shee were crump'd-shoulder'd, and had other imperfections, yet her cloths were so neatly contriv'd, that being drest, shee seem'd as straight as an Arrow. A good soule that, and never miss'd the good wives Club, though shee were tyed to religious per [...]ormances very much at home. Shee [Page] was an example to the rest, and carried the businesse so quickly, that after a good rowze or two, no more signes appear'd, then if shee had been with her Good man at the Exercise: Others of their sisternity (very weak headed women, frail vessels) carried not matters so well for want of use and experience, which in a short time would be perfected. Then from that to childbearing, and what easy labour Mrs Touch had, and how pretty a boy, and how kind a man Mr Touch was, who let her have her will in every thing, which no doubt is a great helpe toward the facilitating those matters. It is so tender a soul, that if she should but look awry, 'twould make her miscarry; for she is true Touch, and never misses. And then to the differences of Midwives, how comfortable Dame Short would speak concerning patience and stoutnesse in those cases, before shee had drank Sack and Sugar, and after it how fluently her tongue walk'd untill the time came to shew her skill, which shee alwaies perform'd with such successe, and was so skilfull in Phisnomy, that those signes and resemblances (which we poor women could never discerne) were made so apparent to our Husbands, that they found the child to be their own by the countenances, and those marks which Dame Short gave them to take notice of: It hath been fifty pieces in her way at times from the good men; those discoveries which are great satisfactions and most sure restrainers of jealousie: Other Dames on the contrary, are heavy and dull, without this secret too, which is all in all, and want speech and incouragement fit for women in those plights, they are harsh and imperious also, enough to scare them more, then the businesse it selfe. From such Midwives good Lord deliver me, and when the time shall come againe (saith Mrs Clippochopo.) Let Mrs Short be for my labour; I love a short cut of it: It will not be long first, (saith Corpulent) Mr Clippochopo do's it to a haire, and to that good houre, or whosoe'r it shall be next; we fat women are not so good Breeders, 'tis true, but we envy not your forwardnesse, as shall appeare by this full Carowse, and to you Steepen Malten, to the next rise amongst us, be it right or wrong. Softly that, said Dame Suteur. All this time the Knights play'd it at Dutch Gleek, and had so vied it, and revied it, that they were all Honours in their faces, and Toms by their stradling, and now they are for their Tibs, who had plaid faire, and made never a Reneg all the time. The Knights went every one first to his owne Lady, and then his friends, and did so smouch them, that the lippe-frolicks were heard into the Kitchin, which fetch'd up mine Host, who very much welcom'd his Noble Guests, and joy'd to see the strong affections they bore to one another. He ask'd their Ladiships, what refection they would have before bed-time. All were for a Sack Posset, you shall have one, you may swimme in, (said mine Host) Quickly then (said the Ladies) with expedition Madam, and with spice enough. In this space, they agree to ly in the grand bed, and to avoid errors, they dispos'd of themselves, for the first paire, female on the out side of Male, Male next to that Male, then two females, next two Males, and a Female utmost. Thus they made all secure, by the contrivance of their wives, whose judgements at the instant were the quicker. Fresh lights brought up, came a Cauldron of Posset, which the Host (fully satisfied of their quality) had besprinkled with some Pulvis Crepitorius, the Inne-keeper staid and saw such mannerly feeding, that he bless'd himselfe, and thankt Heaven [Page] that posset was no meat that he lik'd, much good doe you Gallants said he, this is lusty stuffe, warme, and wholesome. True Myn-here (quoth Steepen Malten) we shall not heare of this againe; But for your goods, quoth mine Host, and wishing them good rest, he sent his maids to attend them to bed.

Foure handsome Girles presently appeared and proffered their service, but the Ladies desired only to know the places of conveniencies, and so dismissed them. And with good speed they did Abigail it each to others, untill all being ready for bed, they had very much ado to make the Knights (laden with posset and Canary) to observe the order of their bed-postures as was prescribed. After a small rest, the Posset work'd with a powder, and from the north side of the bed Steepen Malten gave such a warning piece, that alarum'd all the quarters neare her, and Corpulenta (being her selfe a petty garrison) returned two guns for one; Daplusee and Clippochopo laughing so violently at it, broke into consent with them, and did peale it about, and sometimes ring the Changes so merrily, that the continuall noise wak'd the dull Knights, who no sooner stirred, but Flounder Ferkin gave a broad side, which almost spoiled all the tackling of the bed, and now the other three upon the report of the last, like Block-houses, did so play their great Guns, that there was nought but smoke and stench, the Wind being in every ones Face. It was a night of high service, and great action, but the wind a little appeased, a storme came suddenly, the men running to the Close-stooles, the women to the Looking, or Leaking-glasses, (where they sate not so sweet as Roses and Flowers in a garden-pot) but wondring at the mischances, each complained, and heard one anothers tailes very dolefully, crying, It was never so with me before; O, I have plaid the beast, saith another; Daplusee could not hold, but went to it without measure; and Dame Clipp. wished for her husbands Bason, these utensils would not conteine; Insomuch that they were enforced to the Chimneys, where like Hawkes on a perch they slic'd it, while their Males were for casting and muting together. It began now to be day-light, and by the waggery of the Hoste the Musitians were tuning, but alas their Cats guts were instantly out-sounded by the loud musick within, which so confounded them, that they could not heare themselves; wherefore they sent for their Hoboyes, Cornets, Sackbuts, and other great Instruments, and then the aires within were higher and hotter than those without, which put the Musick to a retreat from the doores. But they knock'd at length, and sent the Musick a reward by a maid-servant, which was of a good smell enough, though the Bringer very nicely held her nose whiles she gave it; The Maid call'd for more help, and forthwith the foure girles, whose hands they refused over-night, were scarce sufficient for their night-worke; But Daplusee had so sweetned the maids in the Palme, that they began silencing without missing, and mine Hoste, understanding the lanck state they were in, provided very comfortable Caudles for my Dames, and a Gallon of burnt Clarret for the Knights, which (with the reckoning) went down very current and glib. Their stomacks at ease, they resolved to dine nearer to the Metropolis, ashamed to stay any longer at that Foule nest; so they called for the Coachman, who put the horses in readinesse, and received them againe, a great deale more comfortable carriage than they were before. And now we [Page] must returne to Andaluzia, where by this time the Don is uninchanted from sleep, and no sooner awakened, but his Squire Sancho brings new feares upon him, and destroyes all the Designe of the Kingdome, the Government, and his hopes of the Princess of Nicomicon, which puts the Don upon fresh actions, as you may hereafter read.

CHAP. X.

Quixot will not be undeceiv'd, and finds

No pleasure like the errour of craz'd minds.

Sancho and all his visions are confuted,

And will againe be Squire of Armes reputed.

The hopes of th' Island buzz'd into his noddle

Hath fill'd it up with a strange scheme and modell

Of Future Government; now Ferdinand

His Dorothy may kisse, or lead in hand;

Sancho unmov'd, who will make good his part,

And laid his errours on the Magick Art;

Which well the Squire in ignorance might keep,

When that the Knight inchanted was so deep.

But when the Captive Turke and stately Moore

Came to the Inne (as he thought to implore

The Queen to speed away) his heart was full,

And lifted up as high as the Mogull.

No less the Don doth burgeon, and once

Againe comes on Mambrino's batter'd sconce.

Looke to 't you blacks, our Knight secured o'th' score,

With's Bason comes to wash a Black-a-moore.

TEXT.

SAncho as we have said was only sorrowfull, and thus he entred with melancholy semblance to his Lord, &c.] Sancho gives the Don a good day after an evill night, in as bad an houre, and as mad a tune, and as sad a tone.

I'll come, I'll come againe to thy wits,

Wee'll make it working day.

O donne thy cloths, and doff thy Dons fits,

The fool in armes no longer play;

We never shall take Castles more,

Nor Queens thy non-sence aide implore.

No live-Gyants shall fall,

Nor bor'd wine bags at all,

But the World shall see

What very very Cockscombs we be.

[Page] Yes indeed (Sr) so it is, we be Three may be inscrib'd over our heads, and no injury to the Reader, for we are no small fooles. The Queen of Micomicona is turn'd to Dolla Roba Bona, wife to the Duke of Andalusia's second sonne, you lost your opportunity. At these words Don Quixot very much wroth, said;

Is not the Gyant slaine? is not his head

Presented to the Queen, in triumph lead?

Is not this Ocean in the Room, the Sea,

The red Sea of his foule Phlebotomy?

I (Sr) said Sancho, when his head was struck off, then these Rivers of blood flow'd from him, and in the tide his head also ran from us. Mr Quesada, I intreat you act not beyond the play. Al's done, the Knights done, the Squires done, the Ladies done, and we are undone; good Sir, retire into your selfe againe, for you have been Errant too long; have you no conceal'd Royals, Dolars, or old Gold quilted in your doublet or wastband? This blood cals with a vengeance, mine Host cals, his wife bals, 'tis not the blankets, a tosse or two into the aire will satisfie; The Asse (my Lord) will be laid by the eares for it. Pray look about you, doe you not smell the Fe Fa Fum of the Gyants blood? Here is the Gyants skin, this wine-bag pierc'd indeed by your Killsa-hog, poor Borachios, would they had been in your belly, (not for my part) then my Asse had gone for somewhat, but to part with it for a dry reckoning, and with dry basting too, for that will be the end of it; Sir, can you heare it and not weep, not for the Asse Sir?

If thou dost well remember, I told thee when we were last here, how all that succeeded here was done by Inchantments.] Sir, said Sancho, were the hoysts in the Blanket an Inchantment? is mine Host (the same foule beast now and then) an appearance? a Vision with all that load of flesh upon his back? 'Tis true, he hath prov'd a Devill incarnate, Wife, Daughter, and Maid to me, and your turne is next, for you have a very ill-favour'd score at the letter Q. which stands for your whole name. Give me my clothes quoth Don, will your search your pockets (good Sir,) or feel about the stiffnings where your hoard lies? what dost tell me of scores (quoth Quixot) think'st thou I'll take chalk for cheese, were they hundred of Scores, am not I able to sweep 'um off with a wet finger? Sancho sigh'd at his high phrensie, and weeping for fear of the losse of his companion, the Asse, well Sir said he, shew your selfe a man of your hands then this time, and deliver us from this chalky way: I tell thee Sancho, I will not leave thee, till thou hast seen the Milky way, and I have made thee and thy Asse a Constellation, Dyonagri I'll have you call'd. This Milky way is even home againe (thought Sancho) to the Dairy at the Mancha, and my poor Asse must be a Stallion.

I am inform'd (beautifull Lady) that your greatness is annihilated, and your Being destroy'd, for of a Queen, you are become a particular, &c.] The Don would have said (if he had consider'd the condition shee was in) that her Greatnesse was augmented by the proliferous Contagion of Don Ferdinand, a brother Don, and untill this instant Errant; the Magicall Father Don is at hand to justifie his worke, which though it were a deed of darkenesse, yet it will come to light, without your man Midwifry; nor was it in his thoughts, to diminish your abilities at the acting of it, or require them, the businesse [Page] being a single Duell without partners or Chirurgions: And as for the Gyant so lately beheaded by you, the witnesses are alive that saw your valour. The Host here made a serious interruption, and told him to his teeth, that the Gyant was two wine bags; Foole said the Don, they were the Gyants two wine-pipes, for he had every thing double, but his head, and that doubled with us two: But the Host commanded silence, the Don proceeded, and embold'ned the Lady to slight her Negromancing Father, and reply upon his armes for restitution;

Si Pergama dextrâ

defendi possent, etiam hâc defensafuissent.

The Queen a [...]swered with a very good grace and countenance, on this manner.]

Coram quam suspicis adsum.

Who hath endeavoured (Heroick Sir) to rob me of my person, my State, mine Honour, and what is most tender to me, your good opinion of me? I am all the same, (except this misconstruction) and my expectancies as high of your performances as ever. Drive home, Sir, your great designe and mine, and I shall accompany you unto the journies end. To you I attribute these beginnings of my joy, these Noble friends, who never had set eye on me, but that your name, like a Land-Mark, guided them to this Inne. Give leave most sufficient Knight, that these may be joy'd witnesses of your great actions, they shall not need to lend a hand to your assistance; the fame of your motion, and approaches to the place, will be a terrour to your enemies, and halfe the Victory, the rest submission; only some few excepted Persons, who will stick to the Gyant in that memorable battle, wherein you are to gain me what I long desir'd, and your selfe eternall fame, which you deserve.

Don Quixot having heard her, turn'd him to Sancho, with very manifest tokens of indignation.] O unpolisht Knight; not so much as an obeisance or the bend of Mambrino's Helmet to the Queen, after her so eminent and clawing Oration! But fury doth transport him, and choler against his Squire hath wholly invenom'd his spirits, which are as fiery now, as they were dasht before. Now he will vanquish all Gyants, Knights, Monsters and Squires, in the person of Sancho in saeculae saeculorum. One emanative blow, shall transfuse it selfe vigore & impulsu agentis, unto the right eares of all lying Squires in the world, who being call'd to the proofe of the sence, not reason of this chastisement, shall find for the Don, that they had aflation on the right cheek, and justice themselves worthy of Cuffs a piece for their paines.

Good my Lord replyed Don Quixot, I doe highly gratisie the honour that is done me.] Marke now, who is more Courtier then the Don? who fairer or more mealy-mouth'd then the Knight of the Ill-favour'd face? words I'll promise you very shrewdly plac'd, and to good advantage (for the trepidations about the rescue of the slaves, were not off the Don nor Sancho neither) and a friend in Court is better then money in Purse. This was a sure Proverb with the Don, and much of his direction. Now thoughts of action are laid aside, and the Don too for a while. Roome for fresh Gamesters, here is a Chesse-board to my Hosts Noddy-board, Moores and Xtians.

[Page] A pure white and a black,

Knight and Lady that lack

A Lodging for a night a,

E'n shuffle together,

A Ewe and a Weather,

And have the same delight-a,

Don himselfe he will watch,

That no harme doe you catch,

What ever him betides-a-.

But O the mischance,

The sluts force him to prance,

And on his feet to ride-a-.

O behold how he hangs,

In most pittifull pangs

A sullen Ladies Martyr,

Yet grinning honour wins,

And drops downe from his ginns,

Knight of the hempen Garter.

Our Great Don's in a noose,

Who will the Knight loose?

The Wenches have no mercy.

Vpon Hecate call,

To night-Mare, and Hag, all,

Or make 'um Sow's O Circe.

The Stories of the Moor and Captive, (as that of the curious Impertinent) I shall strive to equall by the like, where a Christian Lady fals in Love with a handsome youth, and follows him, through many dangers, being enforc'd to try her womans wits to compasse him: But the Don a while will deprive you of the tale, being very highly taken up with a discourse of Learning, most unhappily seizing his head, when he should have put bread into it, in collation Time; A thing very few Scholars or Souldiers are guilty of. So that by the practise of those Professours, the Don should have little correspondence or interest in either, yet in his owne person he seem'd to be compacted of both. His Man-like, dreadfull and Ill-favour'd Face, render him a sonne of Bellona; his lank Barebone sides, a sonne of Minerva, wherefore he undertakes both parties, though with a resolution to vilify and undervalue Learning. Behold the wise, politick, and Learned Vlysses, and the rash, stout and magnanimous Ajax, bound up in one Don Quixot, and a Theatre of Knights, Lords and Ladies, with a crowd of Clownes, Cockscombs, and other Auditors all assembled to heare who shall winne Achilles Armour. It had been very well for the Don (if that such a prize had been at stake) for his owne Armes were most pittifully batter'd, antique, and rusty. But here was no reward for his Oratory, go it how it would, only empty praise, yet successe in Armes, as he promised to himselfe, in the design for the Kingdome of Micomicona, might raise him to a fortune few Souldiers of Fortune arrive unto. But I feare this wit-Combate, will prove a drawne battell, and neither Scholar nor Souldier get any thing by the contention: However the Don's Rhetorick, [Page] Pro and Con will delight you, to whom speculations of this nature, were meat, drinke, and cloth.

Surgit ad hos Dominus male fractâ Casside Quixot.

CHAP. XI.

Alas poor Scholar, whither wilt thou goe?

Thy Brother wanderer is turn'd thy foe.

O simple Knight, O Dulman Ignoramus!

Wer't not for Scholars, how came you so Famous.

What are your Castles, Ladies, and your fightings,

Inventions only, and the spawne of writings.

Search all the Mancha, all the World o'r look,

No Quixot will be found, but what's i'th' book.

Quixot Contra Artes.

Proh Jupiter inquit,

Ante rates Causam, & mecum confertur Ulysses?

O Jove! what have I liv'd to see,

Any wise thing compar'd to me?

THey seem not to understand well, (great confluence of Queens, Princes, Peeres, Knights, Squires, Ladies, Clergy and Commons, who knew not that Minerva or the great Goddesse Pallas is equall Goddesse of Arts and Arms, and that the Purple of the Field as well as the schooles, the green Lawrell of the Barre, and the gilded Lawrell of the Standard, are both her Donatives, Largesses, and rewards, and though shee appeare as often Armed, as in her Candid, and pure Robe, yet these men of the Quill very much ingross her to themselves, and will allow us men of the blade, a very small or no share in her. Something indeed it is they say, that Shee her selfe being the off-spring of Iupiters braine, Sine Matre Filia, they may lay greater claime to her, because all their labour is opus Cerebri, the sweat of the Pericranium; a little noddle intention, or headache perchance, which when they have hammer'd it out, they call it Sapientia; and by this meanes would shuffle us from Ioves Head to his Thighes, where he preferv'd a young plumpe Godling call'd Bacchus, after the death of his Mother Semela; from him they say we have an interest in Iove, but remov'd, and by that meanes, have cozen'd us of a yard of Iupiter at least, and having procur'd a Numen for us, say from Bacchus the God of Wine, and consequently of quarrels, our profession at first sprung. 'Tis true, that the Cradle of our Deity (they will allow us) was the strength of his Father, but what, will they make only foot-ball players of us? they shall finde it contrary; or if it be so, that the ball is the world, and we carry it upon our Toes before us. Another argument they have from the nine Muses, who [Page] all of them seem (except some one pittifull whiner Melpomene) to be their Patronesse, and that Apollo, when he is an Archer, is not President of the Company. O Generations of fictitious mynters! who knows not that Apollo is a Deity Errant, and runs o'r the World once in 24 houres, slew the great Dragon Py [...]hon, which was the leading adventure to all ours, and would have relieved the Lady Daphne, but that he was inchanted into a Bay Tree; yet though he could not winne her, he doth weare her in signe of his true affection about his browes for ever. Out of the number of the nine Muses they have excluded our Goddesse Indignation and Eris, which themselves say are Poeticall, Facit Indignatio versum. Those are verses now with stings in their tailes. Lycambaean Poetry, lines will make their subject hang themselves; And, they have thus cheated the world with the height and antiquity of their originall, they thinke to o'rcome us with numbers too, laying clayme to all Merchants, Pylots, Sea-men, Architectours, Masons, Carpenters, Shipwrights, as their alumni; things that live out of the Mathematicks. Then they bring Fidlers, Barbers, Harpers, Dancing Mrs, Singing men, Choristers, Ballad singers, Coblars, and Plowmen, the heires of Musick; and then a Regiment of Factors, Scriveners, Usurers, Vintners, Tapsters, Cookes, Writing-Masters, Almanack-makers, Fortune-tellers, Surveyours, Brewers Clerks, Bakers, and all Tally-men, marching under the account of Arithmetick. To these they joyne Historians, Poets, School-Masters, Divines, Advocates, Attourneys, and Solicitours, Book-sellers, Printers, all of them are most dependant upon Grammer, Rhetorick and Logick, so that by their good wils, they will not leave a man for Armes, unlesse he be a Porter, a Vagrant, or a decaid Gentleman, Bankrupt, a Waterman, or journy men Taylors; who yet contend mightily to be under some of the seven Sciences, though not as they are liberall: Shoomakers pretend to a Gentle Craft too, but honest kill-Cow, he is ours: The Butchers are not deny'd us, though they are not allow'd to be de Iure Pacis, they are de Iure Belli. This one profession is enough for our worke, to cleave such a company of Calves-heads, as they have muster'd up together. Another thing they object, that their paines exceed those of the Souldier; by how much spirituall or mentall paines transcend corporall. Indeed the School-Masters paines is somewhat, and the scholars under him more, but that is all corporall.

Huc ades, haec animo concipe dicta tuo.

A very faire invitation to a poor Commons, which ends most commonly in lachrymae; or a ‘Parce precor, Posthâc aeternùm versificabor.’ Is that animo concipere? Truly the School-Masters and Tutors (whether at the Universities or at home) are most necessary instruments in a Common wealth; for without the seeds of knowledge, reading and writing, understanding the principles of learning, the rule and direction to higher matters, (whether in Armes, Law, Physick, or Divinity) no man could serve his Prince, or be usefull to the places where he was bred. These men that thus discipline, and traine up our youth in civill behaviour, decency, good manners and knowledge, are men worthy of double honours, that is, stipend and reward, yet you need not be at two charges for it, of a Ruling School-Master, and a Teaching School-Master, it all being the excellency [Page] of one man. The Government and discipline of the School, instils as much as the Masters presence and instruction: And it were to be wish'd, that Parents, Guardians, and others whom it concernes, would reflect upon the men of this condition, with as good an eye of favour, as on those especiall Officers of the Hawkes and Hounds, which appurrenances to great Families, commonly are gratified in a better sort, per annum, for the training of a whelpe, or making a Hawke, then the other professours are for educating a son, and fitting him for the World. A decrepit Huntsman or Falconer may have a quietus, and goe with a Coppy-hold, or some small annuity, when after the polishing and preferring of a hundred Scholars successively, a School-Master shall have only his punctuall Minervall, and so leave him to his Mill, to weary out his life like a Horse with continuall exercise, forgot alike, by Parents and Scholars, unlesse it be a Seneca or an Aristotle, whose scholars were very able men and Souldiers, Alexander and Nero: Yet this latter wish'd a Nesciisset Literas, the knowledge of Armes being more sutable to a Prince then books. And Alexander lov'd Aristotle, and admit'd him, but followed the Camp, and left him to his Parva naturalia. Caesar also was a great Souldier and Scholar, and I only wish my selfe more learned then I am, for the commendations given of him; he wrote with the same Genius that he fought. Now were Don Quixot so inabled, what Comments would the World have of his adventures, and how plausible? The Arcadia would be laid by, Polenander set aside, and only Don Quixot would be the studdy and delight, and taking Legend, with all that love Armes, or to Arme Ladies. And for this very end only, I can admit of some small familiarity with learning, for it did highly inflame me to read, well worded, and in expressions answerable to their actio [...]s, the Famous Wars of King Pippin, the Gyants, and the Gods, and Hercules, besides Fleximart, Don Gateer and D' Amadis, which I have at my fingers ends. But otherwise for Learning, it is a meer cheat, and the grand Professours like Sooth-sayers, laugh one at another. The Grand Signior and Souldier of the World, allows of no Learning. Plato banish'd Poets out of his Common-Wealth; and how many now adaies run up and downe the World, having all things in their heads, but bread. It had been better to know nothing, then to know want; yet they will answer him in some stoicall sentence, 'tis better to know how to want, then want knowledge. Enjoy the Paradox good Pincht-Belly, while I shew the men of the times, men of the first times in these last; men of gold, who came not into the World to be serv'd last, or starv'd at last.

Arma tenenti

Omnia dar, qui justa negat.

He that a sword hath got,

Commands the Pottage pot.

Vivitur ex rapto.

He that can catch and hold,

He is the man of Gold.

And so I leave the Scholar, rather pittying, then triumphing over him.

[Page] Of Armes.

Most illustrious Queen, and by your residence, glories, presence, and derivative rayes, eminent and conspicuous Confessours. I know full well, that the Tree of Knowledge, was the most glorious pleasant stock of Paradice, but yet forbidden, the bold attempting to know above what they should, disposfest the aspirers of that beautifull Garden, and gave the first occasion for Armes in the world; a Flaming sword being set for an eternall barre upon the passe, that they should not re-enter. A long time it was before warrs came in, (though a fourth part of the world was murder'd by his brother) as the generations of men multiplyed, then societies, Kingdomes and Governments were erected in severall places, and good and wholesome Lawes invented for the security of Meum and Tuum, every man's right; the Vindex of which lawes, (if they were infring'd) was the publick Magistrate; but sometimes the multitude offending, the Delegated Power could not restraine 'um; wherefore he was enforc'd to call in help, and friends, to set all right at home. And to prevent future insurrections, they rais'd a Military Power, which stood for the defence of the Magistrate, against contempt and violence, so that the same strength serv'd against civill Commotions, and forraign invasions. At home the souldiors life was easie and gratefull; But when he was commanded to draw forth, to avenge the injuries offered to the Prince, then his life is worth taking notice of; what long Marches? what tedious Sieges? what short allowance? what thin accoutrements? what dangerous duties? and what gallant ends? VVell said our Poet, ‘Multum ille, & terris jactatus & alto.’

There's tossing for you, Scholars, a little more troublesome then ratling chaines in a Library, and tumbling old musty Authors from morning till night, not a line there hurts you, but from one of our Lines, perchance a hundred commanded men, may have their ultima linea rerum. This is our Rubrick, (the Scholars) the letter which doth immortalize, or rather Canonize us. A vengeance take all Gunnes, Bullets, Powder, and the Authors of them. Printing and they were about an age, and the Devill knows which is the worst. They were made for dispatches, very right, the one makes the quarrell, and the other defends it, and both sides rue it. And yet you Scholars say, that the Sword was more destructive then the Ordnance, Herquebuzze, or any Powder Engine. The noise forsooth, the terrour, the suddaine dispatch of a party, saves the rest of an Army sometimes, and induces a summons to a Treaty; as King Henry with his letherne guns obtain'd it before Bulloigne, whereas, when the matter was disputed by the Sword and Javelin, a major part must be slaine, before the Generals could tell which side had the better: No, Sophister, no such matter, the businesse was effected with lesse blood, or at least, blood of lesse moment. In the antient wars, before these Bombards, Blunderbushes, Petars, or salt Peter, (the Devils Ale-Tubs were ever tapt.) The very name of Caesar, Hector, or any famous Officer, routed a wing, a Legion, as soon as it was heard they were in the Field: And therefore contend no more for your two black coats, the Monke and the Devill, who were the contrivers of [Page] these murderous Engines, whereby an Alexander, an Achilles, a Solyman or a Solomon either; the wise man and the valiant fall undistinguish'd without knowing their enemy, or shewing any experiment of their undoubted strength, or subtle stratagems in war; so it may befall our selfe (dread Queen,) at the siege of the chiefe Castle, that some misguised Bullet (which Heaven forefend) may deprive you of the man, who slew indeed the Gyant, and laid all wast before him, conquering by his high fame, as much as his known prowesse, and yet behold the Heros, how he lyes, the Triumph, and the spoile of a piece of Lead!

I have a whole Field to expatiate in the praise of this Antient and Honourable profession, which throughout the world is formidable; what Land can you come into, but you shall finde the Monuments of some great Battels surviving in Stones, Cuts, and works in the ground, Pillars, Coynes, Inscriptions, Arms with Bodies, of an incredible weight and stature buried, and commonly found? What hath set your braines on worke more, then the Histories of fighting Princes, the Greeks and Trojan war, the Field of Pharsalia, enobled by our Country man Lucan, and the like; when all the stock of wit was vented, in flattering the victorious side, although in your affections, you were for the beaten party. Pro Verre, or contra Verrem; 'tis all alike to you, you turne as round as a Pigg, in all disturbances for the successe: We fight it, you enjoy the profits of it. It were good policy, in my Imagination, to change and shift callings, and sometimes the Souldier should spend a yeare or two in a Gowne, enjoy a Government, a fellowship, and others, while the Scholar doth lead a Company, traile a Pike, th [...] they may experimentally and judiciously discourse of the severall excellencies, paines, and labours of both these professions. How many bloody rounds are there to be clim'd in the scale of military honour, before you are at the top of preferment? and how many brave soules perish in the getting up, every step being under-watch'd with Dragons, Lyons, Tygers and old Mors himselfe. If a Scholar obtain not his desires, it is his own fault, very few miscarry, if they will make themselves able, and apply to the right way; study, and be thrifty, take heed of Alla: To: and especially have a care, when they are young students, not to intoxicate their noddles with hot loaves and butter, pudding Pies, and penny Custards, which make dunces, and clotpates. And thus I have discharg'd this undertaking of the preeminency of Arts and Armes, which later doth as much exceed the other, as a sword doth a Penne knife, or a Campania, a Brown studdy.

Dixit;

Quid vocis precium? siccus petasunculus, aut vas Pelamidum?

A dish of Plais [...], or Spanish Bacon, had been meat for a better Rhetorician, but it fals out otherwise.

Armes great Defender, and of Truncheons,

Prates himselfe out of's after-noons Luncheons.

The Curate applauded his discourse, affirming, that he had very good reason for what he spoke in favour of Armes, and that he himselfe was of his opinion.] An applause obtained like that of a Play, most ridiculously penn'd and acted, where the Auditors (who notwithstanding, convinced in judgement to the contrary) durst dislike nothing, but gave great Plaudies to most things that were to be hiss'd off the Stage with the Speakers; but the exhibitors of [Page] that shew politiquely had plac'd Whiflers arm'd and link'd through the Hall, that it was the spoyl of a Beaver hat, the firing a Gown, beside many a shrewd Bastinado, to looke with a condemning face upon any solaecisme, either in action or language. Mr Curate was therefore well advis'd, who allayed his spirit of contradiction, and submitted to the Whifling Knight-Errant, with the Ill-favour'd face.

Don Ferdinand intreated the Captive, to recount unto him the History of his life.] And here indeed follows a story, will captivate the hearer, it being full of fine changes of misfortunes, and as sweet and pleasing conclusion; for Phillida hath her Corydon, and Corydon hath his Phillida. It' is (praeter institutum) not my intention to undertake these serious stories, but as before, with an exchange, which will be no robbery; only the Argument I shall present unto you, of the 12 13 and 14 Chapters, and so proceed to the Barter; like some simple Concionator, who naming his Text in a Country Auditory, shut the book, and took leave of it, for the whole houre, as if it had been a dangerous thing, and not to be handled.

CHAP. XII, XIII, XIIII.

Old Perez of Viedma, out of Lyon,

Sent forth three sonnes, which the whole world had eye on;

The Father squar'd his state quadri-partite,

And left himselfe, but a childs portion right.

Three way's his old Mercuriall fingers show'd,

And each one was to honor'd ends a rode;

The Church, the Seas, the Court; high waies all three,

By three made good, Wit, Valour, Industry.

Each sonne took's severall track: But Ruy Perez,

The craggy path, where Honour linck'd with feare is.

Our Captiv's for the Wars, and his first tryall

Was fiery, but of engagement royall.

Have you not heard of that great Navall fight,

Sped 'fore Lepanto? when the Turks Moon light

Was so eclips'd,

The halfe moon is the grand Signior's Ensign and Badge.

that the proud

Selim. Emperour of the Turks.

Ottoman

Resign'd his title to the Ocean:

Thinking his Prophet false, and Christs command

Was o'r the Seas, but Mahomets on the Land.

But the next yeare, Don John of Austria

Prov'd Mahomet a Lyar every way;

And by the losse of Tunez the Turks found,

Their Prophet could secure, nor Seas nor ground.

In those brave services our Captiv's lot

Was to be ta'n, while others Lawrell got.

Not basely ta'n, for John Andraeas Gally,

Sail'd to the succour ('gainst the proud

King of Argiers, & afterwards made admiral of the Turks whole Fleet by Selimus.

Uchally)

[Page] Of Malta's Admirall distress'd; there he

Was Captaine, there he shew'd his company

A piece of Valour; and alone did leap

Vnseconded, upon a Barbarous heap

Of Turks, who fearing our supplies, away

Sail'd from the assault, proud of this single prey.

Honour'd Viedma (glorious in they chaines,

Tugging at the Oare, a most ignoble paines!)

Doth not disturle thy worthy soule, prepar'd

For anything, that's high and also hard.

But the Goleta, and the Fort,

Don Iohn of Austria King Philips Brother built it.

Don John

Built for a stop toth' Turks ambition,

Lost in thy sight, and Christian blood

Flowing about the Trenches where it stood.

Thy Countrymen like dogs interr'd, and those

Hardy Commanders did their lives expose;

Don Pedro De Puerto Generall,

And learn'd and stout Don Pedro o' Argivall:

Both taken, both the glory of thy Spaine,

Thy heart broke then, to see those in a chaine.

Then slavery was slavish, and their Oares

More wound thee, then the strokes of Turks and Moors.

Uchali Fertax the scall'd Runnagate,

(So was he nick-nam'd by the Turkish state)

Dy'd after this defeat, and a third part

Of all his wealth and slaves, (an Ottoman Art

Practis'd along byth' Roman Emperors)

Went to the Turk, his sure inheritour.

In that division

[...] a Runnaga [...] from Venice, taken prisoner by Vealli, then Pyrat, was after his death made King of Argiers.

Azanaga got

A thousand slaves, and he was of his lot.

The Kingdome of Argiers the Turk bestow'd

Vpon this runnagat; thus honours flow'd

Vpon a Catamite, Porus to his Prince,

A Ship-boy first, and now his Eminence.

In our new chaines and caps, Him and his Peeres

We ro'd with merry looks unto Argeirs;

Not for his greatnesse joy'd, but 'cause that Spaine

Was neer, and might once more be seen again.

Which Heaven procur'd, for unsuccessefull we,

'Said often to escape, but 'twould not be.

But this was providence indeed; a Moor

Of great account, and of excessive store,

Liv'd next the Baths, a place for their best slaves,

Where hopes of ransome, the poor captive saves

Amidst these Baths, as at Bethesdas Pool,

An Angell did refresh our fainting soule.

Vpon the Prison Battlements, we us'd

To walk, and thence our sighs and Prayers transfus'd

[Page] Toth' Powers above, observ'd it seems we were

From the Moores windowes, whence there did appear

A Cane with something to' [...]. The Cane did play

Full upon us, and pointed to our way:

One of our company did step aside,

And to our waving Meteor neer applied;

At his approach the blest Phaenomenon

Drew in its selfe, as if it would be gone.

As he retreated, it again shot forth;

Then went a Gentleman of noble worth,

With like successe; and so the third; the Cane

Wav'd off, and made their hopes and prosers vaine.

Our Captive was the last; who knows (said he)

Whether this Omen be reserv'd for me?

Or whether fortune hath a proud intent,

To play upon us by some instrument?

He tri'd his luck, and the descending Lint

Fell from the Cane, with ten Zianiys

Certain pieces of base gold us'd among the Moors, and are worth each of them ten Rials of Spanish money.

in't.

A crosse of Canes was then put out; which sign

Made us of Christian Captive there divine;

Who pittying our estate, lent these supplies,

Wishing her selfe and us quick liberties;

And after it a glorious hand appeares

So white, that it dismiss'd all jealous feares.

Then in the Turkish manner we inclin'd

Our heads, in token of a thankfull minde.

This for a time cheer'd up our hearts, and we

Nothing omitted of discovery,

To know the place, from whence our Golden shower

Descended, but alas it rain'd no more!

A noble Moor Arguimorato cal [...]'d,

(And Constable of Pata late install'd)

Liv'd there, and that was all which we could learn,

Nor hand, nor Cane, nor Crosse could long discerne.

At last our Phosphorus restor'd the day,

And chas'd dull thoughts from our sad hearts away;

The Cane like to a blazing Starre Crinite

Greater appear'd, (but yet did not affright)

We try'd, as once before, whose it might be,

But it prov'd only falling starre to me.

I gather'd up the Deodate good Gold,

And a white paper did our blisse infold,

Wrote in Arabian tongue, (not understood

By any of us) so we only shew'd

Signes that wee'd read it, and the Crosse was kiss'd

Before her eyes, and that the hand dismiss'd.

O now for a secure Interpreter,

Who might our mystick happinesse transferre!

[Page] A Murcian Runnagate, one of sure trust,

And long experience, this unravell must:

The fellow vow'd all faith and secrecy,

And render'd it in Spanish presently.

The joy'd contents declar'd that the white hand

A Christians was, and long'd for Christian land.

Daughter unto the Moor, train'd up by one

(A Christian Captive) in Religion;

And since her death (for twice shee had appear'd)

Shee charg'd me be by Lela-Marien steer'd,

And shee would bring me to her fonne, the God

That came from Heaven, and there makes his abode.

Shee would direct me, she a Husband give,

With whom I should in shining Goshen live:

And thou brave Christian, above all the rest,

Hast made a Conquest of my Virgin breast;

Thy manly gate, thy presence in thy chaines,

Shunning the blushing shackles and the traines

Of Captive gallants pacing in thy tread,

Shews thee a L [...]ad [...]r, and no common head;

Besides thy high erected looks and eyes

Lift up so oft to Lela Mariens skies,

Render thee sprung from thence, no humane race;

Blame me not (Sir) to covet so much grace.

If thou be free, I like thee of all men,

Take me, and blesse us Lela Marien:

And for thy chaines, and fellows, soon as they

Can know the ransome, ready is the Pay:

Be wise and secret (Dear) contriv [...] it so,

No Creatures but our selves the plot may know.

Aguimorato, if he should descry,

(As he is made of nought but jealousie)

Wee'r ruin'd all; be valiant, close and bold,

I'll worke thy way, though step by step in gold.

Ala defend thee, and this Holy Crosse

Keep us, our friends, and our good Ship from losse.

All fortun'd well, but 'till the very day,

When they prepar'd to steale Zoraida.

(So was this glorious Convert call'd) the Moor

Came to the God-speed, ere they'd had shipp'd her o'r,

VVho crying in most hideous manner Thieves,

They gagg'd him strait, and hinder'd his relieves.

Father and Daughter now on ship-board are,

And he unbound and free, did strangely stare,

Demanding of Zoraida, what this me'nt,

VVhether the Ship, these men, and she were lent?

The Lady said (Sir) I am Christian turn'd,

'Twere better farre, thou wert here present burn'd,

[Page] (Replied the Pagan) and o' th' sudden leaps

Into the sea, bulg'd o'r in wat'ry deeps.

At her request, they haile him up who wou'd

Have rather perisht in the briny floud.

Not cleaner for his washing, his black ski [...]n

Chang'd not the hue, nor his foule heart within;

But on himselfe, his daughter, and us all,

A thousand curses plenteously let fall:

And did attempt againe the sea; then shee

Desir'd us, (for shee thought it impiety

To see his ruine) and did all implore,

To land him on the next convenient shoar.

We did so, and he blest our Ship with gales,

Like witches, hir'd to furle up flying sailes:

A thousand Garbs he us'd, to Heaven to Hell,

And tore his haire, and on the earth then fell;

Then rose, and raging, threw into the aire

Curses and stones, and his torne grizly haire.

It prov'd unlucky to our Barke; for straight,

A Pyrate of the French surpriz'd our fraight,

And robb'd us all; my bright Zoraida

Lost all her Iewels, yet was then most gay:

We fear'd our lives, for which there's no man car'd,

If that Zoraidas might be but spar'd.

Now more remisse, a Cockboat they will give,

And charge us straight for Spaine, if we will live;

For the rich booty made them feare; but we

Had wealth enough in our gain'd libertie,

And the faire purchaser: Who smiling, said,

(Love) Lela Marien still protects a Maid;

And holy men, that goe on honest ends,

Ala, and all the power above defends.

Th' Interpreter made known her mind, which struck

Such courage in the men, they stoutly pluck

Their beaten Hoy, and in an happy houre

They all enjoy the long long wish'd for shoar.

[Page]

CHAP. XV.

So many Ladies, and so many Chan [...]s,

Blow up our Don, and fortifie his fancies.

Gyant Borachio (or the slaine wine bags

Not paid for yet) augment Don Quixot's brags;

No longer is mine Host mine Host; he's paid

In titles, and with offices defraid.

The house is chang'd, the Inne a Castle is,

Mine Host is Constable, and takes no fees:

The Don's Controuler of the place; but here

He deignes to play the rusty Harbinger,

And entertaines a Iustice of grave carriage,

(But not advanc'd unto the power of marriage)

Perswading the Long-Robe-Man, and his daughter,

(Whom in a Lackeys habit followed after

Enamour'd Lewis) how the Inne was chang'd,

And nothing there but Courtly persons rang'd.

Had he been absent with his face uncouth,

The Iustice might have well thought it a truth:

For the grand beauties which at that time met▪

Might with the glories of Madrid be set,

And farre out-shine; But all to Donna Clara

The judges daughter yield, shee's Avis rara.

But these great persons and their ladies faire,

Were not unto the Iustice things so rare

As Mr Curats story; which discovers

Two Brothers to each other, greater lovers

Then those o'th' place: What joy? what hugs? what teares,

When that the Captive to be such appears?

A happy sight! rarely doe buffe and budge

Embrace, as doe our Souldier and the Judge.

TEXT.

YET must there be a place found for Mr Iustice, who comes in his Coach, &c.] The Spanish Justices were not so far as Matho, who was himselfe a Coachfull; Donna Clara his daughter might sit with him and room enough beside, although riding in his long Gowne, and his wide sleeves, he might burnish and swell out beyond the dimensions of a single man. These are the formalities and habits, which gaine credi [...] to the persons that weare them, terrify the Country people, and wring out Reverence, Legs, Caps and Capons from them: Take away these embellishments, accoutrements, and investitures, [Page] from any order of men, and you leave them as contemptible, poor and naked, as the Crow, or Chaugh despoil'd of his borrowed Feathers.

Ex humeris Aulaea Togae.

Keep the cloth, your Liveries, and your Ceremonies, and they will keep you from vulgar insolencies; Round Caps, and obedience to masters went out about a time. Square Caps and Logick, Wigs and Law, wing'd Gownes and good Divinity, like Astraea, (Mr Justices pretended mistresse) flew away together. Worthy was the Policy of the Roman Senators, who being vanquish'd by the Galli Senones, fled to the Capitol, and there sate in their Patrician Robes, full of gravity and majesty, which struck more awe into the Barbarous Souldiers, then their Ensignes, or their Engines: Insomuch, that they took them for gods at first, untill their officers made them plunder them like men. What regard would be given to a Praetor without his trapping'd horse, the Gold Chain, and the Cap of maintenance? Even the Bedel of the beggars without his blew Jump, and silver head tipstaffe, loses reputation among the boyes and vagrants. Upon this very reason it was, that Philosophers of old, and our Moderne Divines nourish'd Beards, (like wandring Greeks or Jews) not that they were a jot the wiser for the Bush, but it gain'd an estimate and reverence. The Spaniards depart not from distinctions of Orders, Garbs, Habits, Punctilios, Ceremonies, Circumstances, and have the reputation of the wisest men in the world. If Mr Justice had come in Querpo, mine Hostesse would ne'r have left her lodging for his sake; but now shee doth Idolize his broad sleeves, and resigns her owne chamber to the long robe, which had not been so well swept in a yeare as it was with the trailing of his Worships train.

To all which the Iudge was so attentive, as in all his life, he never listned to any cause so attentively as then.] What, not at the Assize Sermon? from which most commonly your Spanish Judges take most of their Charge, and are as much beholding to Mr Curates adviso's from the Pulpit, as he was before to Fonsecas Postils; but here Mr Licentiat shewed his art▪ and hath so curtly, succinctly, and concisely Anacephalyz'd, Analyz'd and Epitomiz'd the long story of the Captive, that if his afternoone Repetitions were with halfe that paines and method summ'd up ad populum, they would keep waking the best part of his Auditory after a full meale. 'Tis a good character of a Judge to be attentive to heare ambabus auribus, on both sides, and both sides, (as they say) without interposing or troubling witnesses, or suffering the Councill to doe it, and so in his instructions to the Jury, to lay open the Law, not his affections to them, which is the cause many times, that those honest men and true, swai'd by hints and girds to the par [...] that his Lordship is offended at, often brings very false and partiall verdicts, for which they ought to incurre the penalty of fasting, after their delivery up of their opinions, rather then before.

The Curate took him fast by the other hand, and marched over with both them unto the Iustice.] Had this been in England now, it had been a wedding; but the Spanish Curates will not easily part with so beneficiall a Sacrament, as Matrimony to Lay-Hucksters; Marriage and flesh (being Quadragesimall prohibitions, and forbidden in the time of Lent) cum dispensatione, & licentiâ, were very gratefull accessaries to a slender Vicaridge. Double fees▪ besides eggs and Alicant, with many a Joviall entertainment, are [Page] more considerable then petty Tithes, and made the Curate more blith and bonny, then an Arch-Deacons visitation, where beside the danger of information, he paid for his owne dinner, and his visitors. If all hits right, and that this learned contrivance of Mr Curates could worke in Zoraidas Inchristianation, with the solemnity and rights belonging to it; and the gaudia magna of her after-marriage with the Captive, to be the reward of this service, (as it deserv'd it) how soone might he expect a change of his small Vicaridge, for uberius beneficium? and admire himselfe in his long Cassock, broad Hat, and divinity Belt, the advanc'd creature of the times; nothing being a surer step to preferment, then the joyning great persons together in Matrimony, or the Nulling▪

Don Quixot offer'd himselfe to watch and guard the Castle, while they slept.] How proper physick he finds out for a mad man? watching being the only meanes to tame frenzy, had it been confin'd to a close room; but this new humor of being grand round to the Castle, makes him more wild then before, and subjects him totally to 'the cold influences of the Moon, which was the Predominant Planet in his Pericranium. Could he not remember what befell him, when upon the entrance of his adventures this vertigo of noctivagation, and watching his Armes, seizd him: How dismall was that nights Guardian-ship, wherein was more want of discretion, then sleep, when the Carriers had almost laid him stone dead? and yet the bold and hardy Knight, alone, not as in other adventures attended by Sancho Pancha, (witnesse and partner of his sufferings) he will react this solitary incounter. Having nothing but the spangled Coverlid of Heaven over him, and poor Rosinant under, whose paines and Tantalizations in this nights round, were more irksome to the beast, then all his other out-ridings, which were ever (though somewhat long first) gratified with the welcome rest of an Inne; but now he is dizzed with the continuall circuits of the Stables, which are ever approached, and never enter'd, beside the unsupportable torment of feeding horses, the noise of grinding the beloved Corne, the smell of hay and litter, (and nothing but the smell and noise of it) which made Rosinant thinke (if ever his imagination was discovered) that he was in Limbo Equorum, and condemnn'd with Tantalus Horses to the same flying Provender, and deluding dainties, which should never come nerer then his ears, or eyes.

CHAP. XVI.

Darke night invades the Inne, and pleasing sleep,

With woollen feet on every head doth creep;

Only our vigilant Don, and young Don Lewis,

Yield not to Morpheus wand, that braines bedewes;

Transform'd into a Lackey, by loves powers,

Like a wing'd Cupid, (hid in various flowers.

His particolour'd sute) he silent flutters

About his Claras Coach; i'th' night he utters

[Page] His sad complaints in songs and piteous aires

And tels how love no sexe, no person spares,

Whilest other musick (not so soft nor sweet)

Don Quixot raiseth, playing on his feet,

Strung up too high; but yet the cord won't break,

Which puts the screech-Owle to a dismall skreak.

Come see the Don of more then common hope,

Not Errant now, but pendent in a rope.

TEXT.

I Am a Mariner to love.]

Don Lewis first Sonnet.

1.

Runne nimble tongue by night,

And fill her with delight;

That her deceived eares,

May think th' obsequious spheares,

And sweet intelligences,

Striving to court her senses.

2.

Raise thy cleer notes so high,

That labouring birds may die,

And vanquish'd Philomel,

Warble her owne last knell;

Whilest their vaine Thrillos hope,

VVith my love-tunes to cope.

3.

If that my Clara sleep,

A pretty murmuring keep,

In low and solemn straines

So lullaby her braines,

That shee may trembling dreame,

Her head's in some soft streame.

4.

But when shee wakes, and findes

The error of her mind,

Let such an eccho strike

Her eare, that it may like

The rows'd Tarantula,

Take life from the high key.

5.

Having got audience,

Monopolize her sence;

And let thy ditties be

In praise of her and me.

Untill (poor soule) shee long,

To yield up for a song.

[Page] He is no Horse-boy (quoth Clara) but a Lord of many Townes. Here were a note now to enlarge upon the power of love; but we have had many examples already, and unum pro cunct is f [...]ma loquatur opus. In any transformation feigned or true, more could not be seen, then in this gentlemans metamorphosis; who for pure love, was a Spaniell by day, and a Nightingall by night. That his feet run was no small pain to him, but the running of his tongue was no small pleasure to those that heard it, as will appeare in his second Sonnet.

Don Lewis second Sonnet.

1.

Though that thy Coach out-runne

The stages of the Sunne,

And through more dreadfull [...]ignes,

Thy Charioter inclines:

I follow will alone,

Through cold and torrid Zone.

2.

It is no shame for me,

Thy lackey for to be;

The Sunne himselfe did run,

A mistresse to have won.

To runne, and speed is praise,

He lost, yet got the Bayes.

3.

But if like Daphne thou

Of changes dost allow,

Let me transformed be,

Into thy Axle-tree,

Thy Charret I will runne,

So thou be in't my Sunne

4.

He doth but lackey it too,

Who in a Coach doth wo [...];

And must bare-headed ride

By his proud Ladies side;

His paines is not so great,

Only he waits in state.

5.

Those, who upon command

Of Ladies, leave the land,

And doe strange services

Their scorncfull dames to please,

Doe runne lesse pleas'd then I,

They from the mark, I by [...]

6.

Some thinke the Starres stand still,

And that the earth doth wheel:

[Page] Others, th' Heavens run round,

And fixed is the ground.

If the world passant be,

It is no shame for me.

7.

Copernicus come try,

And learned Ptolomy,

Me and my Clara view,

And you will prove both true:

Shee like the sphears and starres,

I runne like Mines, and Quarres.

For I know not whence with a vengeance, or by what way this affection which I bear him, got into me.] What the originals of love are, is a hard matter to finde, that which first makes impression in the heart or fancy, that's the puzling quaere: Whether it be the eye, the nose, the speech, the wit, the common voice, or report, that is the first mover? For some love by the ea [...]e, and affect by story, others by the eye— ‘vis amque cupit, potitur que cupitâ.’

See and like, like and lig: some complaine (deceived in their augury) of the nose, as the maiden in the song, others of the eyes; nescio quis [...] oculus, &c. I would I had never seen the face of him! those ey [...]s, those amatory muscles; there's the vengeance on't. O his hearrt-beakers cries another! O that tongue, that beguiling, deluding, inchanting tongue! O that maske! it was there I first fancied his high capering, his nimble footing it, his amorous motions; there was the vengeance on't.

In short, as matter is incli [...]'d to receive formes, wax impression, the aire, the light, so naturally, doth the faeminine appetite require the Male: But how the—solus hic inflexit sensus.

How with a vengeance, one particular person more then any other, amongst choice and variety, should only wound and subdue affections, and Dido too; there is the scruple still; there's the vengeance on't. Goe to Lilly, and he will tell you, 'tis in your stars, there's the vengeance on't. But he doth not prove so true in heats, as colds; and is as much out in the [...] [...]enereall, as that of the Sunne; and though it be possible, he may prove a sure Directory to a Husband, yet not the stars, but her perswasion in his stars, was the cause of it. Another will have it in the Amatory A [...]omes, and there's the vengea [...]ce on't. The little tiny fiery rarities, when they sympathize in two distinct persons, there's the conjunction; there's the vengeance on't. But the truth is—haeremus sicut ille ad restuxum maris.

The true cause of the ebbs and tides of our affections are not known to our selves, and we find out false causes, and attribute to them, what is not theirs, and that's the vengeance on't

To this point arrived Don Quixot, when the Innekepers daughter began to call him softly unto her, and said, Sr Knight, &c.] Our Don is now at the hole in the wall; one of the most unfortunate adventures, that ever he undertook upon such presumptious hopes; where his miscarriage is the more infamous and scandalous; insomuch, as that he is chiaus'd by two spicket-wenches.

[Page] Dux foemina facti.

Maritornes and her young Mistresse, the matts of the house, and laine upon by all commers, are supposed Ladies of the Castle, and play upon our transported Don; who inchanted with his owne fancies, is brought into such a nooze, that never Knight was, to be hung out against a wall, (not in effigie, which had been disgrace enough) but in persona, corporally expos'd to the view of all people. Tom Coriat upon the barrell at Hiddleberg, with his Rummer in his hand was a glorious sight to this, and no way tending to his dishonour; who ever beholding this figure, will not call to mind the story of the abused Judge, whose patient Mule was better then his book to him, and sav'd him from hanging, by not stirring from the Gallows.

In the mean time it happened, that one of the Horses whereon they rode drew neer to smell Rosinante, &c. and scarce had he stirred but a thought from thence, when Don Quixot's f [...]eet slipt asunder.] The Inchantment's over, and the dreame of remaining manicled to the window, vanished into a hideous swing, (upon the motions of Rosinante) and new torment. Poor Knight unhors'd, but not alighted, how he hangs, paine and torture, as from Phalaris Bull! Expresse noise and out-cries from him, more then humane; his voice is all he can trust to now; if his Lungs faile him, the rope will not, which he hop'd would sooner break then his voice: had he been rotten, it had been but an arme lost; but fighting hardened his flesh, and kept his parts compact together; so that this firmnesse of body was the increase of his torment. How happy might he have now been, if he had any the least skill in dancing of the ropes, or could have throwne himselfe heels over head, or cast himselfe into a hoope, or into the hole whence his Ladiships bracelet, and the glorious chaine was bestowed upon him? But he cannot vault nor skip, nor mount, nor doe any thing but raise a note or two higher, which wak'd the Dogs, which wak'd the Maids, whó sensible of their roguish cruelty, relent, and at last relaxe the rope, whereby the Don is once more a Knight of this world; into which he is no sooner dropt, but fresh adventures bury the remembrance of the old ones, and remounted upon Rosinante, he defies all dangers; which were as sure to seize him, as he was sure to provoke them.

Nothing can hold him, now the rope is broke,

He will subdue, who late was under yoake.

[Page]

CHAP. XVII

The disguis'd lackey is found out a Don,

And by foure servants is attended on:

Discover'd, he discovers to his love,

Vnto the judge, and doth so strongly move

With importunacy and teares, that he

(Though his deserts plead high) could not deny

His daughter to his sute, whiles these in love

Make up the scene; the Don doth tragick prove,

And Sancho untill now not understood

To be so valiant, bath'd the teeth in's blood

Of sawcy Barber, who with head full addle,

Would unconvert his Pannell from a saddle,

And with a face most impudent and brazen

Will sweare Mambrinos Helmet is his Bason;

And all before the Iudge in his great sleeves,

Vs if that Sancho and the Don were Theeves;

But they doe prove them prize, (the matter scann'd)

Taken by strength, and not by s [...]ight of hand.

TEXT.

WHosoever shall dare to affirme that I have not been with just title inchanted, I say that he lyes.] A bold provocation to four men; and 'twas foure to one but he had paid for his challenge, but the men were in pursuit of another Don Errant, which made them not heed his extravagant words. 'Tis some mens only security, that their tongues are counted no slander. Fooles and Mad men, and male-contents, are priviledged talkers, and the worst of their language, is either pittyed or laughed at. At this tme our Knight under one of those notions, gives the lye (which in Spaine, is the word of death) without any check or controule; which was a great adventure, and it is therefore noted, that of all his adventures, he came safest off in this, without any reply made, or the words beaten downe his throat again.

Don Quixot was ready to burst with wrath, &c.] Iô triumphs in this bloodlesse victory, over a Quadrivirate of Mummers, (as he takes them to be) is not concluded with any Epithalamiums, or songs of joy, but contrary, his Bonefires are within, and his bels ring backward; the Don is inflam'd, that he can shew no spoiles, no luggage for Sancho, not a Wallet nor a Pannell to be seen, whereby the monumentall Ensignes of so great a daring, (for it cannot well be called a defeat) should be published to the world. In strange disputes with himselfe our Knight was; what should be done to an enemy that would doe nothing? what said to a silent foe? language was unfit for mutes, and action for men of no spirit: Never was Heros so becalm'd. The businesse (the challenge once over) was a dumbe shew, [Page] where the Don swels, looks big, menaces with hand and shaken Javelin, disdaines sides noses, claps his owne hands, and bounds with Rosinante; the other part shrug, snecze and blurt, neglect, make mouths, and flout in Spanish postures, and so exeunt.

The man drew him by the arme and said: Truly Don Lewis, the habit that you were in, answers very well your calling.] It had been more modest (Signior Servitore) to have drawn off your young Don's undecent Habits, and accoutred him with better; but you cannot see the Lord for the Lackey. Great Personages lose their reverence with their apparell amongst those, who only esteem their Masters by their ambitious outsides. The Yeoman of the Bottles turnes privy counseller, and is as sage as Seneca adviseth, beyond any Savill, and will turne Master of the Horse, (if the young Lord doe not returne to himselfe) and carry him home like a Cloakbag. But his insolence is suddenly check'd, and the slave submits at the sight of the brandisht whippe; one authoritative word stopes him into the sellar, (the Alembick of his spirits) where he only properly commands and draws.

To this Don Quixot answered very leisurely, and with great gravity. Beautifull Damzell, your Petition cannot preva [...]le at this time.] What, in the negative to a quarrell? the Adventure-seeker refuse adventures, and incited to it by a Lady, for her Fathers rescue, the Constable of the Castle! oppress'd by number two; and in a just cause, the maintenance of his Castle! O Iupiter Hospitalis! can this apology of the Dons, smell of lesse then Pusillanimity? is our Hercules, that just now assaulted foure, not able contra duos? or what is the cause? doth Valour ebb and flow in valiant breasts? and are they more daring at the ebullition of the blood, or at the circular refluxion? or doth the last cowardize react upon the Challenger? will he be sullen, and not fight the humorous Lievtenant? Is it a drinking day, or a Courting day, and no day of Turnament? none of these; it cannot be. He is ingag'd, not in actuall combat, but potentiall. His word is his blow; no enemy (till the Gyant of Micomicona be incountred) must be admitted; and so mine Host is like to be paid, and have his scores in Capite.

The Princesse did grant him leave very willingly.] Now he is once more licentiatus ad preliandum & vapulandum per totam Hispaniam. What's the matter now? he hath a quarrell, but it is, that they are not Knights, for whom this uproar is, and so intailes the adventure upon his Squire, pares cum paribus. O Don! how might'st thou by this effugium have sav'd all thy misfortunes? The Yanguesian Carriers, the Goat-heards were no Knights, the Windmill and the fulling-mils were not dubb'd, and yet thou didst condescend to a beating with some, or all of these: Eare-beaten by the Fulling maces, beaten out of wind by the Windmills, beaten and re-beaten by the Carriers; and why now so stanch? To what purpose didst thou kneel for a Licence, if thou wilt not take the liberty to fight? Certeinly (though Cyd Hameti Benengeli doth not discover the reason of this Micropseachy of the Don) it is easily to be conjectur'd; for the cause of quarrelling, was non payment of the reckoning; a thing which the Don stood to maintaine, and so could not without wounding his owne Conscience, and breach of practise, be of mine Hosts part; so he prudently stood a neuter, and would have shifted off the businesse to Sancho Pancha, who for feare of the blanket-encounter, [Page] perchance might have ingag'd as farre as a douze or two in the businesse.

The Barber presently set upon Sancho, saying, ah sir Thiefe, have I found you there, with all the furniture, &c.] These are scurvy salutes (Sancho,) and inconsistent with the man, that was in more then hopes of the government of an Island; but Sancho out of hand confutes him, and makes him wash his mouth in blood for his foule aspersions; wishing him hereafter to keep his chops as cleane as his fingers, and save him the labour of opening a veine for the matter. Sancho hop'd by this meanes, to have traverss'd an inditement, with an action of battery; but the Barber being blooded in the mouth, was freed from the staggers, and stood stoutly to the claime of the Pannell, and makes bloody hue and cry after him. Insomuch, that Sancho is forc'd to appeal to the Don; who, finding that his Squire had plaid the man so notoriously, was more ready to make a Knight of him, then an honest man, and dignifi [...] him more then justifie him; Which both were equally in his power.

The very day they robb'd me of a new Bason, which was never us'd, which cost me a crowne. Here Don Quixot could not containe.] Like master, like man; the Barber charges both, and now the Court is sate; what will be said in the businesse, (for Councill there is none allow'd in point of Felony) was the expectation of every one. Here is evidentia facti, the very Pannell and the Bason, Coram judice. The Barber (pro rege) sweares, they were his, and now the two at the Barre will speake for themselves.

Don Quixot for the Helmet.

Thou simple animall, thou Iobbernole;

Thy Basons, when that once they hang on Pole,

Are Helmets strait; true, under chinne they are

Basons indeed, and serve to wash us faire;

But to the Pole annex your Brasen Bason,

'Tis not to smug one then, but to amaze one.

The property is chang'd; and this brave cover

No longer is to snap your fingers over.

For though like Brasse it look, 'tis true as Steel;

Things are not as they seem, but as they feel.

Didst thou not lose it fairly in the Field?

When did Campania e'r a Bason yield?

But' cause thou wert ignoble, (as I spie-now,)

I did create it Helmet of Mambrino.

Sancho for the Pannell.

If e'r I joy'd my wife in smock of Flannell,

Then this a Saddle is, and not a Panvell.

Have Pannels any pummels [...] When you came

To challenge 't, you were pummel'd for the same.

Twice won; by my Lord once, and once by me,

(Had it been so,) it cann't a Pannell be.

[Page] Appeale unto the Iudges, let 't be tri'd here,

If i [...] a Pannell be, 'twill shame the Rider;

Nay when a Iury shall empanell'd be,

Both Iudge and Iury 'l give it unto me.

CHAP. XVIII.

'Tis put to votes, and as they use to goe,

Saddle and Pannell have both I and No.

The major part for Saddle did appeare,

And Helmet contra Bason got it cleer.

Whereat a Souldier (though it were the sence

O'th' house, not his) took villanous offence,

To see men judge so strangely: But Don Quizzot

Flew on the man, and soundly curried his coat.

Then unto sides they fell, in this curst riot,

Vntill the Don that made the warr, made quiet.

By a pretended sight of Agramants,

Translated to the Inne, he dis-inchants

The present tumult; his feigned relation

Of higher madnesse, allaies true passion.

But when the Trooper serv'd him with his Writ,

For rescuing slaves, it was not then his wit

Would serve the turne; alas in sober sadnesse,

His plea unto the scroll was reall madnesse.

TEXT.

OVR Barber speaking to the other Barber; said, Sr Barber, &c. It is not only not a Barbers Bason, but so farre from being one, as white from black.] How easily doth a brother rooke a brother, I mean the craftie brother the weaker? it is possible to perswade a credulous cockscombe (having an opinion first of the brothers fidelity) out of his very faith, sence and reason, and create a beliefe in him, that black is white, and white black; all his understanding being resign'd to his opinion and conceit of his confident, he sees with his eyes, heares with his eares, and speaks with his tongue: what blowes, arguments, convictions cannot doe, that captivated affection presently yields to, and a strong presumption, that such and such were no cheats, hath cozened all that presum'd them so. Aruspex aruspicem, dum videt ridet, is true of subtle sirs, long practisers in the art, who make themselves sport at others follies and their own delusions: But our Barber on the place is chiauz'd, a very Pigeon, a younger brother, and is caughd like a young Jack Daw, which way soever his Senior in the profession led him.

[Page] Fratrum quoque gratia rara est.

One Barber wipes anothers nose,

'Tis true, let it be rime or prose.

All of them laugh'd very heartily, to see Don Ferdinand goe up and downe gathering of suffrages.] It seems the votes were not vivd voce, but in aurem; so that the Collector not being sworne, it was possible, the matter went as it pleas'd his Lordship. And in most popular assemblies, the businesse is much carryed on, like this of the Pannell and the Bason; where the most potent and affected persons, whisper their owne votes into others eares, rather then take or aske theirs. So that the proposition is not at a placet, doth it seem good so? but Place bit, it shall be so.

Get thee a gratious and a popular man,

Thy cause shall prosper, be it what it can.

Let me never enjoy a place in Heaven (quoth the Barber.] The Barbers protestation will not be receiv'd, though he desires the forfeiture of Heaven, (a small matter in comparison of a Pannell) upon the failer of it. But certainly he would not have made such an imprecation, if he bel [...]eved there were any other Poles, then those his Basons hung on, or that the teeth on his strings should ever returne to the heads againe, from whence he pull'd them. But his protestation is plaine in Foro soli, that he is cozen'd of his Bason, which will never come to his Forum Poli; whereby he gives a vale to the Law, as if the Law were in fault, when he should have been angry with the suffragants, or at least hired them each man a dog and a bell to lead 'um home, whose eyes were so bad, they could not distinguish a Bason from a Helmet, or a Pannell from a Saddle.

Don Quixot spoke in this manner. Here is now no more to be done; let very one take up his owne goods, &c.] Those he meanes, which his friends had voted him, and so omnia benè: He is satisfied, they are his own, though he knew he stole them. How gratefull, and how pious, and above all, how carefull he is, against any review of the verdict, desiring Peters bl [...]ssing, though he had but newly robb'd Paul. So cunningly, or prophanely rather, he attributes all his successes to Heaven, though he went to the Devill for the purchase. On the other side, the male-content Barber, goes grumbling away, with his Might overcomes Right, cries out of bribery, partiality, and friends in Court. Both calling upon Peter, the one for a vengeance, the other for a benediction.

In the midst of this Chaos and confusion of things Don Quixot began to imagine that he was plunged in the discord of Knight Agramants Campe.]

Facibus extinguis faces.

He holds the Sunne to the Candle, cries fire, fire, and fetches all the company from a Bonefire; sounds a Trumpet, and brings all the people out of the Church. Some new, high, and unheard of lye, presently sil [...]nceth a known truth, as a Romance a true story. The news of a great Gyant, the talk of Taxes, a report of forreign warre, all differences at home. The trick of amuzing, is none of the worst in the pack: The Don's Policy is not to be slighted, who to avoid his owne, and his friends instant confusion, proclaimes a worse comming; which while every one desires to heare, and feares will ensue, the private constellation fals, and every one is providing against the publick; not a Cobler nor a weaver, but upon such an alarum, shall be as wise as Agramant and Sobrino.

[Page] But the enemy of concord, and adversary of peace, &c.] Here the Don is worse put to it, (who may justifie his suppos'd Inchantments to be true) if the Devill were his enemy, as the Text hints. But as our english Proverbe hath it, the Devill on'd him a shame, and though his Ill-favour'd face was not easily to be intincted with a blush, whereby the Officer might have discovered his guilt, yet the description in his paper agreeing to those of his favour, brought him very neer within the compasse of another English Proverbe. VVhat evasion will he find against this warrant, for rescuing the slaves? This is the worst inchantment that came yet.

For the King and the holy Brotherhood, They two together-are too strong fora Knight-Errant I fear.

Don Quixot laug'd to hear them speak so idle, &c.]

servetur ad Imum

Quod pede processit. It was high time to speak idler then they, or they had done their businesse. He doth now more then act Ieronymo; 'tis the best way to be out of his wits, stark mad, be a Bedlam, rather then a Bandetti, be above or below the Law, that he may not come under the lash. He tels them therefore, their VVrit is false, 'tis error personae, not directed to attach a Knight-Errant, or had it been so, 'twas error Legis or Iudicis, who knew not that generalia non includunt privilegiatos. VVarrants for Vagrants are not extendable to Knight-Errants, who ever demand an exeat Regno; but have and hold by de forresta Charta, of their own; doe as they list, live as they list, pay what they list, and say what they list: They are only men of the Lists. By these and other evident demonstrations, the Officer was satisfied of his frenzy, which was a super sedeas to the Writ, and a discharge for his fees.

CHAP. XIX.

Here's peace indeed; what spoyles and warre-ta [...]ne prizes

Brought to a Iury, and to stand the Assizes?

Look on the Articles, if there be found

A tittle of that crabbed word, Compound.

Had it been try'd at Barber Chirurgians Hall,

(No losse of blood prov'd) we had had it all.

Poxe of that filthy fellow Cicero,

His unjust peace is still preserved so.

Sancho for quietnesse doth straight refund;

Exchanging Pannels, he the robbery shunn'd.

And Ryals eight being numbred, in good reason,

The Barber must make livery and seisin

Of his crackt Bason, to the crack brain'd Knight;

Who by the flaw, might challenge it his right.

Once more 'tis peace; and now the Don renews

His sute unto the Queen, that shee would loose

[Page] No longer time, but forthwith come and mo [...]nt her,

And post away to her owne incounter.

Sancho the peaking rogue, here and their peeping,

Had spied Don Ferdinand and the Queen clipping;

And tels Don Quixot all before their faces,

(But they nothing asham'd of those disgraces)

Baffle out Sancho's frivolous surmises,

And salve it all with a deceptio visus.

But now the plot, (whatsoever forth is given)

How to get Quixot to his, home is driven:

And driven it was, for with a Teem of Oxen,

And in a Cage with bars and double locks on,

The Knight that thought, the world to have wandred over,

Is whistled home by a Manchegan Drover.

TEXT.

FInally, they (as the Officers of Iustice) did mediate the cause.] The Souldier hath it now; and his word is a statute: Or change Pannels Sancho, or the Troopers will make great Saddles of them both. What, cann't you agree without calling in the Lyo [...] to decide the difference? Beware of the Kite, chicken. What though the Don without wits or mony escape? 'twill not be so here, where any thing is to be had; either agree quickly and lovingly, or both titles are lost. They doe understand the necessity of complyance, and wisely submit to the Snaphances and Swords, which are the nimblest Arbitrators that can be, and in an instant evidence the right. There's no demurs here, nor Writs of error, but sodaine wit is best; save somewhat if you will, or be sure to lose all.

All was quietly ended by the Curate, and Don Ferdinand paid the whole sum.] Here began Don Quixot's and Sancho's Jubile, untill the word Al's paid was past, the greatest adventure was how to get away; talke what they would of Giants and Castles, the reckoning was the chiefe danger of them, wherein Rosinante and the Asse lay by it; the perpetuall baile and security for their Masters; which put Sancho no doubt to many foot-adventures, and finger-tryals, for leaves from hedges, and Kitching Physick, brasse pots and shirts, to cure the swelling of his Asses head: But now salva res est. The Golden Age is return'd, Don Ferdinand raines Gold and silver together, and in spight of the Poet, ‘hospes ab Hospite Tutus.’

They defie their Landlord, and his assistants, the Brotherhood; what they dranke in feare, is digested in joy.

Undè habeat quaerat nemo, sed oportet habere.

The poor must eat, and pray for Benefactors. But at this time, the best company was best cheap, and fortune threw the Knight and his Squire into the society of Lords and Ladies, and not among Carriers, where he had alwaies sowre sauce to his sweet meats, if they were so.

[Page] It is a common Proverbe, (beautifull Lady) that Diligence is the mother of good hap.] Secure of the Inne-keeper, the Knight is forthwith for another Castle and S [...]onces which he built, not raz'd. In Andalusia, he is famous enough, and too well known; He will instantly remove his quarters to Micomicona, which being an Aegyptian Country, he and his Squire might Plunder in infinitum. Diligence is the mother of good hap, was his Motto, and very necessary for one of that profession. VVhich Proverbe in all his and his Squires actions was closely followed. Sodaine, quick and nimble motions did alwaies prove beneficiall to them. The Bason, Pannell, Portmantle, all of them the fruits of activity, got by surprizall, and kept by retreats and retirings into the inaccessible parts of Morena. In just fights he never lost more then in sallies; his eare and cheek-tooth (wheresoever they are) are the monuments of his ill successe in set battels: wherefore now he wisely incites the Queen to set upon the Gyant, and fall into his quarters, before he makes an irresistible preparation.

Dorothaea blusht at Sancho's words, for it was true indeed, &c.] VVhat an Infidell is this Sancho; a sworne servant to the Queen, and betrays her; reveales the secrets of the house, tels tales out of doors; and all for a kisse of a young Lord, and that her husband too. (Rude Rogue) and very unfit to be admitted amongst great ones, who cannot keep his tongue in his head; had it been worse, it should have out. But the innocent Lady blusht, that forgetting the part of a Queen, shee should be discovered playing the wife; a thing more justifiable then us'd, for it is out of fashion, and Country like, to own a wife in publike, or shew any glances of affections, for feare of being accounted amorous and uxorious, which is more matter for a blush then this in the Text.

Therefore we must believe (Sr Knight of the sad face) all things are represented, and succeed by way of Inchantments.]

Argumentum ad hominem.

VVhen Maritornes and his Errant-ship were imbracing, untill the disappointed Carrier uncoupled them, 'twas an Inchantment. So Sancho likewise, (however uncharitable in his censure now, or not sensible of the witch-craft) was no doubt, under the power of a charme, when the foresaid Maritornes laid her Posteriors to his Priors, hoping to have rais'd a Novum Organum from the Conjunction. Nothing more frequent, then this sort of Inchantments, which if the discoverers should take for reall matters, it were enough to set people together by the eares. Visions therefore and appearances, let those things be, which seen, should not have been seen, deprendi miserum est. Spies and Centries, as they see sometimes too little, sometimes may see too much, and full of the fancie and hopes for which they are set, may dream they find that which they wish to find: 'Tis better to say there is fallacy and uncertainty in the object, then prove our selves deceiv'd, by reporting what we cannot justifie, or must not. So unfortunate was this discovery of Sancho, that he is forc'd to renounce his owne eyes, and to acknowledge himselfe only compos mentis in the adventure of the Blanket.

They made a thing like a Cage, so big, as that Don Quixot might sit, or lie at his ease, and presently, &c.] This is the last inchantment of this Castle, and though it be a wooden one, yet it holds and serves their designe, as well as the Trojan Horse. By this they enter the Mancha, and bring home the [Page] long-look'd for Lord of the place to his ancient house and seat, nor need it be accounted a dishonourable lodge, it being the legall house of entertainment for all Knight-Errants, who having no mannors of their owne, and alwaies in a moving condition, are provided for in all Corporations, Tithings, and VVapentakes, according to the exigent of their travels, in these moveable receptacles, for a night or two at the publike charge.

They presently mount him upon their shoulders, and as they issued out of the chamber door, they heard a dreadfull voice.]

The Barbers speech.

Let it not grieve our Knight, nor let him rage

Like Bajazet, to see himselfe in Cage;

Or e'r attemp to dash his slender braines

Against the bars, for he will lose his paines:

Reserv'd in this, not mockt nor made a shew,

The fates secure thee from a greater blow.

Thinke not (grim Sr) your close condition worse

Then those bold Greeks, ingarrison'd in a horse;

Whatsoe'r you thinke of it, your riding now

Lookes like Ulysses in his state at Plough:

And when your Sinon shall unpinne the bars,

You shall returne, first to love, then wars.

Let thy Dulcinea see thee in this pickle,

And shee will sweare, thou'rt stable now, not fickle.

Were shee the Queen of Aegypt, as her shape is

Aegyptian right, shee'd take thee for her Apis.

Let thy Manchegan friends about thee dance,

Wondring to see thee in such state advance.

Slowly proceed, and this grand luggage carry

In pomp, to his Tobosian Dromedary;

That those that love hath join'd, be never parted,

Let him the Cage injoy, let her be Carted.

Don Quixot to the disguis'd Barber.

O thou unridler of my mystick Fates!

(Which rubb'st the sence into my mustie pate,

Of future passages) when I shall see

The great effects of this deep Prophesie:

In honour of thy high Auguriall art,

To thee I'll dedicate this Cage, this Cart.

Sooth-sayers we have store, but sooth to say,

None doe reward them, as I mean to pay.

In this you shall of flight, of birds divine,

(The birds will fly about thee when 'tis thine.)

And as unto an Altar on this Cart,

Wee'll offer up Beasts liver, and Beasts heart.

[Page] But if Lucina my Dulcinea helps,

I have design'd for thee, one of her whelps,

Who following thy advise, (though silly

At first) in time may prove a whelp of Lilly.

Nor am I troubled at my strange abode,

The Woods have deities; Woden's a god;

Forrests were my delight, this but a chop is,

I have exchang'd a Forrest for a Coppice.

Say, that the stout Manchega [...] Lyon, when

H' had prey'd upon the world, coucht in this den.

And thou (good Squire) admirer of my Cave,

Thinke not I'll lay bones here, as a grave;

Or that I goe toth' fields Elysian,

The beere or bearers (man) are vision.

Be not thou wood too, nor a jot inraged,

It is enough that one of us's incaged:

Nor are we now lesse then ever warriers,

Embroil'd as heretofore 'mongst Carri [...]rs.

CHAP. XX.

Our Don's unsatisfied, it seems i' th' cage,

Vntill he heard it was the wooden Age,

Where all things are debas'd; as when the Log [...]

By Jove were sent, to Lord it over Frogs:

Cudgels instead of swords, and basket [...]ilts

Are now in use; and Castles scal'd with stilts.

Inchantments are inchanted; Belzebub

Acts not as heretofore, but in a tub.

Coopers are Nigromancers, spirits stoop;

Content to be incircled in a hoop;

Nay, Cerberus, that direfull Stygian dog,

Tamely submits unto a wooden clog.

Why then drive on saies Don; Let Orpheus play▪

And make our Teem goe merrily on the way.

It moves, it moves, the Carre with Oxen [...]ix,

And in't the Cage, i'th' Cage, the great Don Quix▪

On each side Troupers two, as if they did

Convoy the Indian Plate unto Madrid.

Behind dispannell'd Sancho rode, alas!

Sad at the sight, and only joy'd in's Asse.

And in his hand, now master of the horse,

(As if't had been attending on a Coarse)

He led, with Target trickt, and Baso [...] daint [...]

On each side of his Saddle, Rosinante.

[Page] The Country all came forth, men, women kinde;

And as he was of a most courteous mind,

The Don wav'd to and fro his filthy face;

'Twas all the Favour he could shew t'th' place.

Had amongst us been acted this prime jest,

We should have sworne in troth, we had seen the Beast.

TEXT.

BUT I never read, saw, nor heard, that they were wont to carry Knights-Errant inchanted after this manner.] Indeed it was something barbarous, and below the condition of so meritorious a Knight; and but that fortune had an intent to example him as much for his sufferings, as his acting great things, this wooden entertainment must needs have appeared very dishonourable: But he reflected upon the times, (when he undertook to raise up the almost-perished name of Chivalry) which were turn'd topsie turvy; all gallantry (except what was happily reserv'd in his noble breast) extinct, and vanished. Wise men, Magitians, and the like very poo [...], men of Honour, and such as us'd to cherish great undertakers, vilip [...]nded, and almost brought to naught. Courts, Pallaces, and great seats, stages, (where actions of this Nature were celebrated) all demolisht, and turn'd into Tenements. All things reduc'd unto so sad and miserable condition, that the Laplanders let winds upon Tick, Fortune tellers and Gypsies expound for bread and cheese; Mathematitians and Almanack-makers, are forc'd to eat their owne prognosticks, and the Devill himselfe lend at six and six moneths time, without interest. VVitches are confin'd in their night rambles, to egge shels, and Hell affords nothing but an Ignis Fat [...]us, an exhalation, and Gillion a burnt taile, or Will with the wispe. No [...] a Dragon, nor a flying Horse, nor a fiery Chariot, nothing high and wonderfull, comes out in these levelling times. It is well that a wooden Inchantment may be had, so great have the wasts of late been, that the Gallows complaines for want of reparation; and Charta de Forresta humbly shews, that her depopulations are so vast, that they will leave her neither root nor branch.

One may feele halfe a league off the Amber this Devill smels of.] Sancho had found out an incarnate Devill amongst these disguis'd Porters of the Don, and as the Don in place where found out by the infallible smell, that Sancho was a man; so here he might have by his nose discovered Lord Ferdinand to be no Devill; the Devill is said to be the Prince of the aire, but of the worst, that is, his usuall cheats being by fogs, mists, and filthy vapours, shew very well that he is no friend to the Millener, and loves no powder, but that of the Gunn.

To whom Don Quixot said, good Ladies doe not weep.] It was a needlesse prohibition; for they did but say they wept; teares of laughter they had shed many upon him, and now (if any were visible) they proceeded from the same cause. Nay two of these mourners, when the Don roar'd and made out-cries, able to have pierc'd the heart of a Savage, were at laugh and lye downe, and made sport with his miseries. Ploratur lachrymis amissa [Page]pecunia veris. Had the Knight made an escape, and avoided the score, then they would have out-houled an Irish VVoolfe; but secure of the reckoning, the joyfull departure of their suspected guest, rais'd this merry showre in their eyes. His happy journy from them 'tis believed they heartily wish'd, but not a Bead dropt for his returne. Goe and welcome, a Spanish Proverbe, for an indigent Traveller, and we have as good; Your room is better then your company. The Don was (though many times insolvent) alwaies thankfull, and would know the house againe; a Complement that might have been spar'd, unlesse he came with his temporall and spirituall stewards, the Lord Ferdinand and the Curate.

The Inne-keeper came also, and gave the Curate certaine Papers.] The drawers curtesie to the Prince was more gentile, though it were but a paper of Sugar; but if mine Host were hide-bound, it was excusable; for since Don Quixot frequented the house, he was never without swaths, fillers, plaisters, and armestals; so that he lookt more like a brother of some Hosptall, then the keeper of an Inne. It was no doubt no small comfort to him, to see the Author of his manifold misfortunes thus ingloriously riding from his house, and so hamper'd that it was impossible for him to play any more mad pranks: The Blanket and the Cage being the sweet revenges for Sancho's and his masters injuries.

Truly brother, I am better acquainted with books of Chivalry, then Villapandas Logick.] This Canon of Toledo, was rather for Toledo blades, and the Canon of the Field, then Church; without question preferr'd for writing or reading Romances rather then Postils to the Countesse his Patronesse; which services find sooner rewards, then those of the Service-Book. This fellow was never counted a meer scholar, never so bookish, as to break his rest, or his braines about his study. Pleasant discourses pleas'd better then school divinity, and a Legend, then a Homily, he hath attain'd to the top of his desires, and scarce saluted Iack Seton or Ramus, nor his owne Villapanda; Swarez and Vasquez are names he never heard of. He leap'd over Logick, and the Metaphysicks he never came neer, however it was his good chance that he prov'd a Preacher, though no Scholar, yet for the books he was most conversant in, his accounts are very good, and argues a great proficiency, having proceeded from Garagantua to Gusman, and now as the crowne of all ending in Quixot.

Mr Barber, you should take heed how you speak, for all consists not in trimming of Beards, &c.] Sancho begins to be undeceived, and the imposturage will no longer last, nothing is more violent then abus'd simplicity, when it once discovers the cheat; True Sancho, Beards are but bushes, and good wine needs none; cofeners goe, mask'd and in Visards: But old time will pluck off those disguises, and render every thing in its own likenesse. He is very pressing upon Mr Curate also, who had a main hand in these perswasions, and by whose authority and credit, the whole design was brought about, and leaves the matter to his Conscience, which he hopes will perplex him one day, as much as his delusions have confounded them; and for his confederate the Barber, the forge of this Inchantment, he wishes the next generation may be Eunuchs; that there may not be a Beard to turne up, or a good face to wash, as long as the world stood. So indignely did Sancho take these affronts, that in despight to the Curate, he was resolv'd [Page] to splay his sows at his return, that he might never have tithe in kind any more.

Verily Mr Curate, I doe find by experience, that bookes of Chivalry are very prejudiciall to well govern'd Common-wealths.] Mr Canon in this discourse seems to weaken the credit and use of writings of this nature, and to prefer and commend Aesops Fables, and Alciats Emblems, wherein the Morall may be for instruction, though the story be of a Cock and a Bull; but it is not unknown that this age hath more abounded with Romances then any other, upon what reason is not hard to conjecture; and yet no man dare say, but here is a well govern'd Common-wealth; but what prejudice I pray, when the subjects are known to be fabulous and figments? no man's faith is beguiled, nor any perswaded to believe them as a truth; rather on the contrary, where the minds of the vulgar are not busied in some such pleasant arguments, they fall upon matters which lesse concerne them, and become troublesome Judges of the State and Church wherein they live; wherefore it hath been accounted great policy to divert those mens fancies, by licensing Plaies, sports, and divers recreations from businesses above their capacity, and not of common ventilation. For want of these chimera's, (which had no more harm in them, then their impossibility) reall phantasmes, and strong delusions have succeeded and possessed not a few, who transported with their owne imaginations, doe not write Romances, but act them, and fill the world with substantiall Tragaedies.

CHAP. XXI.

The Canon and the Curate find out waies,

To make Romances good, and write good plaies,

Such as may edifie; such I have seen

Of holy subjects, and with Psalmes between

The Acts of Dives and of Lazarus;

Of Hester good, and great A [...]asheverus:

Which now, through Poets vanity and sloth,

Are seen in Puppet plaies, or painted cloth;

The stage reform'd (as they say 'tis thought on)

Time may be spent there well, as reading Broughton.

No fooles with Harry Codpieces appeare,

Nor Souldiers suffered in their parts to sweare:

No Lady vitiated o'th' stage before us,

But let Susanna's bathing be by Chorus;

And so alike for bookes, let nought be written,

That may give scandall, and is unbefitting.

But as slie Sancho politiquely found

His master to be loose i'th' hilts, (though bound)

So let the matter of the books and stage,

Be cleanly kept, as was Don Quixot's Cage.

[Page]

TEXT.

BOth the Authors that compose them, and Actors that represent them, must be such as they be, for to please the peoples humours.] It was an old one, and before this criticall observation said, ‘Populo ut placerent, quas fecisset fabulas.’ Nay in their Amphitheatricall gladiatures, the lives of captives lay at the mercy of the Vulgar.

& verso pollice vulgi,

Quemlibet occidunt populariter.

And although the only Laureat of our stage (having compos'd a Play of excellent worth, but not of equall applause) fell downe upon his knees, and gave thanks, that he had transcended the capacity of the vulgar; yet his protestation against their ignorance, was not sufficient to vindicate the misapplication of the argument; for the judicious part of that Auditory condemn'd it equally with those that did not understand it, and though the Comaedy wanted not its ‘prodesse, & delectare,’

Had it been exhibited to a scholastick confluence; yet men come not to study at a Play-house, but love such expressions and passages, which with ease insinuate themselves into their capacities. Lingua, that learned Comaedy of the contention betwixt the five senses for the superiority, is not to be prostituted to the common stage, but is only proper for an Academy; to them bring Iack Drumm's entertainment, Greens tu quoque, the Devill of Edmunton, and the like; or if it be on Holy dayes, when Saylers, Water-men, Shoomakers, Butchers and Apprentices are at leisure, then it is good policy to amaze those violent spirits, with some tearing Tragaedy full of fights and skirmishes: As the Guelphs and Guiblins, Greeks and Trojans, or the three London Apprentises, which commonly ends in six acts, the spectators frequently mounting the stage, and making a more bloody Catastrophe amongst themselves, then the Players did. I have known upon one of these Festivals, but especially at Shrove-tide, where the Players have been appointed, notwithstanding their bils to the contrary, to act what the major part of the company had a mind to; sometimes Tamerlane, sometimes Iugurth, sometimes the Jew of Malta, and sometimes parts of all these, and at last, none of the three taking, they were forc'd to undresse and put off their Tragick habits, and conclude the day with the merry milk-maides. And unlesse this were done, and the popular humour satisfied, as sometimes it so fortun'd, that the Players were refractory; the Benches, the tiles, the laths, the stones, Oranges, Apples, Nuts, flew about most liberally, and as there were Mechanicks of all professions, who fell every one to his owne trade, and dissolved a house in an instant, and made a ruine of a stately Fabrick. It was not then the most mimicall nor fighting man, Fowler, nor Andrew Cane could pacifie; Prologues nor Epilogues would prevaile; the Devill and the fool were quite out of favour. Nothing but noise and tumult fils the house, untill a cogg take 'um, and then to the Bawdy houses, and reforme them; and instantly to the Banks side, where the poor Beares must conclude the riot, and fight twenty dogs at a time beside the Butchers, [Page] which sometimes fell into the service; this perform'd, and the Horse and Jack-an-Apes for a jigge, they had sport enough that day for nothing.

Those that are now exhibited, are mirrors of vanity, patternes of folly, and Images of voluptuousnesse.] The Spanish stage indeed, as well as the French and English, have been much corrupted, partly through the effeminacy of the times, but chiefly by unskilfull Authors; for, the French are so obscene, that Aretines pictures may be represented without any offence; beside their loose and apish gestures render them very ridiculous, and the permission of women, personally to act, doth very much enervate the Auditory, and teacheth lust, while they would but feigne it. The Spanish scene is much of it Legend, or some fictions upon Hereticks, and as they did render their persons and visages to be most horrid, odious, and inhumane, to the People of their Countrie, so they never bring any of these sects upon the stage, but they have a Hell, furies, and strange torments provided for them. But it fell out once, that at the representation of such a Tragi-Comaedy before some strangers, not Roman Catholicks, the Judicatory of Cardinals, Fryars and Jesuites, (who were to condeme the Heretick party to Tophet) being very burthensome, broke the judgement seat, and fell all into Hell before they had arraign'd the schismaticks, as they call them, which caus'd such a laughter amongst the Gentlemen of the contrary opinion, that their mirth prov'd almost matter for the Inquisition; nor are the incongruities and absurdities of our owne stage any lesse or more excusable, it being a long time us'd to historicall arguments, which could not be dispatched but by Chorus, or the descending of some god, or a Magitian: As in the playes of Bungy, Bacon, and Vandarmast, the three great Negromancers, Dr Faustus, Chinon of England, and the like. Every act being supported by some long narrative, which was the Apology for the soloecisticall appearances of children, become men in an instant, within the space of two musicks, infants, and great Commanders: and sometimes without any regard to the credit of their Histories) as in the play of Adam and Eve) the good grandam is brought in with two or three waiting maides attending her, and in Paradise too, when there were but two in all the world. So at Madrid in the divine Comaedies; Saint Iohn the Baptist is presented with a Crosse triumphant in his hand, before his Masters passion, many a yeare. And in the Tragaedy of Babel, an interpreter of the severall confusions of tongues, when one man could not tell what another said. And so in their shewes of the lives of Saints, St Francis is brought in pulling the Devill by the nose, which was the miracle of St Dunstans tongs; and the Lady Mary is robb'd of many of her owne actions, which now are celebrated for the Lady of Lorettos, St Winn, St Bridget, and the Virgin Martyr.

All which inconvenicenes might be redressed, if there were some understanding, and discreet person ordain'd at Court.] An Inigo Iones for scenes, and a Ben Iohnson for Playes, would have wrought great cures upon the stage, and it was so well reform'd in England, and growne to that height of Language, and gravity of stile, dependency of parts, possibility of plot, compasse of time, and fulnesse of wit, that it was not any where to be equall'd; nor are the contrivers asham'd to permit their playes (as they were acted) to [Page] the publick censure, where they stand firme, and are read with as much satisfaction, as when presented on the stage, they were with applause and honour. Indeed their names now may very wel be chang'd & call'd the works not Playes of Iohnson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Cartwright, and the rest, which are survivers of the stage; that having faln, not into Court-Reformers, but more severe correctors, who knowing not how to amend or repaire, have pluckt all downe, and left themselves the only spectacle of their times.

Have you not had a desire to doe that which cannot be done?] Sancho is turn'd Pisse-Prophet, and will prove his Master not Inchanted by his Urine, not from the colour, but emission; and no doubt he was as skilful in the other excrement, but his argument doth not hold as to madnesse and incantations, in which the naturall operations doe not cease, but the rationall and voluntary; as may appeare by the scents of Bedlam, and the receptacles of distracted people; whither I referre the unsatisfied in this point. Ingestions and egestions, more or lesse, are common to all people, and as for the Don, it was impossible but he must have had many motions, (before the starting of this question) by reason of the continuall joggings of the Cart, which is very provoking, both to Urine and siege, and happily Sancho following close to the Cage, must smell out the condition his master was in, and therefore cunningly puts the question in the Dieureticall instance, which was not so evident, and so bewraies all the whole businesse. And though hence he cannot enfeeble the Don's reason for his Inchantment, yet he doth absolutely conclude, that he is in a wofull pickle, and it necessarily followed, that the Cage must be undone, or the Don.

CHAP. XXII.

Iust as imprison'd windes, when once broke forth,

One against the other raiseth, East, West, North,

And dripping South: So doth the Don let loose

His prisoners, which too long had been kept close.

The whistling, ratling thundring and bombizing,

All at intestine wars, in one Horizon;

(Which vext the Knight unto the guts) till set

At liberty, they poyson all they met.

Another purge the Canon administers,

Hoping by reason, and his learned clysters

To bring those vapours from his head; but reason

Against Romances still was out of season.

"To burne his Library it was in vaine,

"Or carry him to the Mancha back againe,

"Vnlesse you first took out, and wash'd his braine,

"In this pat time, now th' moon and he's i'th' Waine.

[Page]

TEXT.

BVT those that have a desire to eat meat when they can get it, and drinke when it is given them, &c.] Besides the present necessities the Don lay under, (which by the often drawing in of his breath, twisting his legs, and more ill favour'd faces then ordinary, gave Sancho, to perceive his condition very [...]icturient, and cacaturient.) He glances at the common wants of the erratick function, which was extreame want of necessaries, unto which the Knights were so accustomed and habituated, that one famine would hardly famish them; (they being most dangerous fellows at a siege, and able to hold out without the ordinary meanes of sustentation) yet as appeares in the Text, not men so obstinate and refractory, that they despised or refused the helps of Nature, and supplies of their preservation, but they were hardy, patient of hunger and thirst, not troubled with canine appetites, or the woolfe in their stomacks, having no set-meales, nor belly-clock, but eating, and drinking as often as provisions presented themselves, so that dyet was a casuall thing, and an accessory to their lives, who were bred in Parthian education, and had nothing until they could catch it: So that Incantation could not properly be applyed unto them, but a discommuning, and frequent interdiction of the creature.

For if they did not free him, or got further off, he protested that he could not forbear to offend their noses.] Faire warning, Guarda voauz. He summons their olfactive forces before he will storme, and desires them to an honourable surrender, rather then to stand the hazard of so desperate a charge. His amunition and artillery was ready, Colon mounted, and infinite of small shot provided for execution; which through any of the breaches in the Cage, would fall foule amonst them. Hostages taken, conditions agreed, the Don is disincaged.

The first thing he did, he went toward Rosinante, and twice or thrice striking him on the Buttocks, he said,]

Although my inward pangs, and deadly gut [...]croaks,

Sollicite the disrobing of my buttocks;

I cannot passe by these (O beast reputed

Above Bucephalus) flanks unsaluted.

Idaea of all horses, Modell of coursers.

(Pray Heaven I ne'r am forc'd to stride a worser!)

Nor Cyllarus his starre, nor in the Wain

Of Charles, or Sunne, is such a horse again.

Nor Pers [...]s horse, which people say is flying,

Flies like to this, (if any dangers nigh him.)

Nor any horse under so sure command,

As Rosinante, for a constant stand.

Squire let him loose, or leave him to the Carter,

And help t' untrusse, I'm sure [...] is no starter.

Whom if I once bestride againe, I'll on,

Though I come off like sunne-burnt Phaeton.

[Page] He said gentleman, is it possible, that the idle and unsavory Lecture of books of Knight-hood hath so much distracted your wit, as thus to believe.] It is not Don Quixot's luck alone, to pinne a belief on the credit and authority of other men; for should he have presently replyed, upon what grounds or proofe, doe you Mr Canon justifie the numerous fardle of your Legends, and the strange miracles done in them; when you are not certeine, that ever such persons were in the world? nor are there any witnesses of the wonders said to be performed by them? you fly to an Implicite faith in the Church, or authors of them, nor would you willingly have their auditors or converts question the truth of those (otherwise suspected stories) which you have made your selves first believe, and then your disciples; the Catalogue of the saints, farre exceeding the Ephemerides of Knight-Errants, and their actions are as far incredible, as any of Amideses of Gaul, or Greece, beside the infinite number of reliques, Baptists-heads, pieces of the Crosse, and nailes, to susteine which, not Ioseph of Airmathaea, nor A [...]las shoulders are sufficient: As for the Crosse, it is believ'd to be but one piece of timber, (nor would the Jewes, who did all in disgrace of the blessed Patient) make it of the best wood; and yet you shall find many crucibles, (which we confide were snattocks of that very Crosse) to be of Cedar some, some of Juniper, some of Cypresse, some of Lignum vitae, the type being Lignum mortis. And whereas the nailes were but foure or five, which were first canonized, Hanibal had not more rings at the battell of Cannae, then we can shew nailes of all sorts and sizes, and so many Napkins, that it will require a society of Linnen-drapers to furnish us with the Napery: I desire but faire play, that the Authors of my books, may be believed to be the Authors of what they wrote, as well as yours; which granted, can you imagine that men of their name and antiquity, would spend so much time and study, in composing lyes and putting cheats upon the readers. You, when all's done, can palliat your obtrusions upon the people, with a Piae fraudes, or Apocryphae fabulae, which though they are not fundamentall truths, yet they are inservient, morall, and significative helps to the end you aime at, and all is salv'd.

See what wit is there in the world, that can induce another to believe, that the History of Guy of Burgundy, and the Princesse of Florence was not true.] No doubt as true every tittle, as that of Guy of Warwick and the Boare, and the great defeats of the Gyant Colybrand, whose statues are in brasse, cast in Swethland, and the cuts of them this day to be seen in the books; so likewise men may, if they be dispos'd to be merry, seem to discredit the stories of Bevis of Southampton, Iohn a-Green, and Robin Hood; but that the Cities wherein these men sometimes were famous in their Hals, and publike meeting places, in painted cloth or frames, present the lively Histories still unto posterity, and the signes of St George, in every Towne, almost of England, convinces all men of the certainty of such a person, and his famous acts, and since the defeat of that strange Dragon, which was then pregnant, and so was slaine, her and her issue, there hath not a Dragon been heard of in the Country; as there are no spiders in Ireland, ever since St Patrick caught a Spider upon his face, and anathematiz'd them all into England, which furnisht the whole Land with Cobweb-Lawn, untill this day. Nor are the works of Iaques of Spaine lesse credited, who by his [Page] holy life and prayer effected, that the universall Monarchy should be in times to come, setled in the Austrian family, about the dayes, when the Indians should be converted to their Religion, and a protuberancy of the lip should be the certeine signe of the true heir to the Crowne; that Oranges, Lemmons, and Malaga Reisins, should breed as good blood, as Beefe, Veale or Mutton, and that the Knight-Errants of Iberia, should be fortified to live without meat or sawce for many dayes. It may as well be denyed, that Duke D' Alvas face is not to be seen on Jugge-pots in Holland, or Father Garnets in straw in England, or Monsieur D' Ancres privities in all Tavernes in France; whosoever shall goe about to overthrow the verity of these books of Errantry, will find himselfe an endlesse piece of labour, they having so many champions to defend them; the world swarms with men of this profession, who under the notion of relieving the oppressed, advance themselves highly in their times. Pitty it is, that Chronologers have taken no more notice of them, which is the chiefe cause, that we can but guesse, and that uncerteinly too, in what age these heroicall spirits ever flourished. Plutarch's lives, Luciant Fables, Valerius, Commines, Fox, Stow, Hollingshead, would be of no account, and scarce bought, if some good Antiquary would but yet make it his businesse, (and i [...] would be worke enough) to derive the History of these gallant men, from the Knights of the Golden Fleece, unto the Knight of the Ill-favour'd Face.

CHAP. XXIII.

As we prove Ballads true, Don takes the hint,

And justifies Romances, cause in print.

If it be licenc'd it is true, although

A book may lie cum Privilegio.

'Tis a lye licenc'd, and made fit for sale,

And Caveat Emptor fastned to the t [...]le.

Were't not for this, the Knights of errant worth,

(As Don i'th' Cage) could never have got forth.

The Knight o'th' Sun, had found eternall night,

But that an Imprimatur gave him light;

And Captaine Jones in all his dreadfull dresse,

Had ne'r been known i'th' crowd, but for the Presse.

Wherefore no Knights (unlesse against their wils)

Ever adventur'd on the Paper Mils:

Of other Mils indeed our Don makes brags,

But counts that Sacred which doth grind the rags.

TEXT.

THat were a jest indeed, that bookes which are printed with the King's Licence, and approbation of those, &c.] This is the very life of all books, priviledge, and their Licence, it is their guard and security from the mouths of scandalous invectors, who would conclude most things for untruths, but that this warrant doth defend them: What [Page] other buckler have the many controversies, difference of opinions, then the Broad Seals to shelter themselves, or rather lye under? what authority or reason, for the multitude of authors now abroad, but that they are printed? and like children expos'd, are sent forth to seek their fortune with a good frontispiece, (like the Grecians Table) to get favour, beliefe or mony, which is better then both.

Sir Iohn of famous memory; not he of the Boares-Head in East cheap, desir'd but a broad Seale, or Letters Patent, for to raise a shilling of every one, that could give no reason why he should refuse; but in case there were any that should deny him, (as there are some costive, and obstinate natures, that will not part with their mony without very good cause why) he desir'd leave to summon those up to London, to dispute the case, which rather then they would be at trouble of, 'twas twenty to one, but the mony would be paid. Such efficacy have those instruments, that I have heard of a Reversioner, that kill'd the present incumbent, with the opening of his Box, as if it had been Pandoras, out of which diseases issued.

What greater pleasure can there be, then to behold as one would say, even here before our eyes, &c.] A Topick, à jucunditate, or rather jocunditate objecti. Whereas all things are desirable for some great profit, or delight conceived, or absolutely in them; none hath more then this dream of Knight-Errantry: Which though it introduces you into lakes with Serpents, yet it never leaves you without the Lady of the Lake. If it brings you into Forrests, deserts, and almost inaccessible places, there will an Ariadne, some disconsolate Fairy or other appeare, (as if you had come by her owne clue thither) to be your solacer, and she-comforter; as you see by experience in the Don, who though inchanted in his Cage, out of which, there was no possibility of getting, but by the power of a higher excantation, yet at the request of Madam Cloacina, who never fail'd him in his necessities, he is let loose.

I dare affirm of myselfe, that since I became a Knight-Errant, I am valiant, courteous, liberall, &c.] This proofe a Teste seipso, is not so current as the other, for it was bottom'd upon his owne daring to say it, and 'tis knowne he durst doe much: But the attributes with some qualifications might be very well usurped by him; as that he was valiant, ferendo, which passive fortitude is most erratick; liberall, promittendo; courteous, recipiendo, denying nothing that was given him; generous, but not generosus, and that in genere, not in specie; gentle, and most of all, since his keeping in the Cage; bold, for there he adventur'd to tempt his Bases; mild, or rather mellow, and soft, or pappy; patient (per-force as they say) an indurer of labours, Imprisonments, and Inchantment, revera and plerunque: And as of old Iulius Caesar got Gallia, dando, accipiendo, ignoscendo: So Don Quixot, by giving nothing, forgiving any thing, and taking every thing, would in good time, (if he were capable of it) make Sancho Pancha Earle of Terra incognita.

I understand not those Philosophers, quoth Sancho; but this I know well, that I would I had as speedily the Earledome, as I could tell how to governe it.] About a season both; though no doubt if he would have applyed his mind to those abandon'd Philosophers, he might sooner have learn'd how to governe, then his Lord got the government for him. The frame of his body much agreeing with sitting and sleeping in Judicature, and that mind, that was [Page] able to informe that body would take informations at leisure. The power and the reward was the thing Sancho look [...] for. The abilities and execution you might goe look. The place should qualifie the man; it was hard to judge by outsides: Aesop was an ugly fellow, but very witty, and seldome any naturall defects, but there were great supplies of inward faculties. Galba was very bald on the head, but it was well lin'd within. Cicero had a wenne on his nose, but yet smelt out Catilin's conspiracy; Caesar had none and could not discover that against himselfe; Vitellius had a great Paunch, yet was an Emperor, and became the chaire of State, better then spruce Otho. Who then looking upon Sancho, but would say, there was enough in him?

Then did the Goat-herd arrive, and laying hold of her, said unto her; O you wanton Ape, you spotted elre.] It was very strange, that the Don upon these words, was not incited to a rescue, and supposing the speckled Goat to be a beauty-speckt Lady inchanted, instantly had not started to his Arms: Upon lesse provocation, he assaulted the flock of sheep. How easily might the odour and graine of the creature have been mistook for hers of Toboso, surely the Knight was dull after dinner, or else this could not have produc'd lesse then an adventure, but especially, when in his passionate rebuke, the Goat-herd proceeds to taunt her, with how can it be other, then that you are a female; and therefore can never be quiet, turne back love, turne back. Could the defender of the sex heare this, and not be unmov'd? Of all the quarrels he undertook, there was not so much ground for one, as here; besides, had there been no other reason, but that it was a Goat-Errant, by his order he was to succour her, and have said to her bold pursuer; Inchanted Lady, (for by this miscreants words, I guesse you to be such) unsold the cause of this your flight, and change. I am not ignorant of the like mutation in your sexe, some being turn'd into Trees, some into Spiders, some into Birds, some into Beasts, some into Streames. I my selfe but lately was inchanted, and I know not how soon returnable unto that condition. Speak quickly, while my Knightly capacity lasts, that I may restore your haires into the silken robes you use to weare; your goodly beard into your fanne; your spots into curious specks; your stately hornes into the Persian Tiara; or the knots wherein you twist your delicate haire; all which shall be effected, if I may have but one word from you, to shew your desire to be relieved by my hand. How this fancy scap'd him, is almost a miracle, and but that his wooden studdy infus'd no glorious freaks into him, it had been impossible.

I accept mine, quoth Sancho, for I will goe with this Pastie.] It is no time of adventuring, but preparing for adventures I perceive: Knight-Errants and their Squires, like Ships, must be victuall'd, and Sancho was providing for a long voyage. The Cloak-bag in his belly, was of more capacity then that on his Ass; a corner of which, the whole Pye would not well fill. While the Don is held by the eare, the Squire will be held by the teeth; Mutton is preferr'd with him before Goat, and one single sheep intrench'd and fortified in good crust-work, was a more considerable adventure to him, then sharing the whole flock.

Sancho for government it will suffice,

Eat Py-crust stoutly, and thou must be wise.

[Page]

CHAP. XXIV.

The Goat-herd, having laid his Goat from skipping,

Under that Embleme tels of maidens tripping:

And would insinuate into our brests,

That there are farre more women-straies, then Beasts.

If the toy take them, like the speckled Goat,

They care not for the spoile of petticoat:

O'r hils, o'r dales, will fond Leandra run,

Vincent o'th' Rose her heart from all hath won.

But the false Souldier lov'd not her, but gold,

And plander'd all, but what was fast toth' hold.

"Vincenti Dabitur, his Motto be,

"The Souldiers leavings be assign'd to me.

But a vae victis be Leandras fee;

List then, while I invoke a muse to cheare us,

With Story of Leandra and her Heros.

TEXT.

THere is a village.]

There was (say I) a Countrey Village,

Where liv'd a damzell that did pillage

Beauty and hearts; but shee was dainty,

And did affect not one in twenty.

Who could forbeare to like and love her?

Shee was as plumpe as any Plover;

But if that expression's homely,

Take another, shee was comely.

And which gave the whole Town the Itch,

(Of love I mean) both faire and rich.

Anselmo and Eugenio (two

Such curious youths no Village knew)

Were smitten both, and they were neighbours

Children to boot, but lost their labours.

Yea though they made their meek addresses

Unto her father (which God blesses)

(Though many sutors have no care on't,

But take a buttock for a warrant)

They did not speed, the worke was green,

(In yeares I meane) but just sixteen;

And why shee lik'd not, you may gather,

They woo'd not her first, but her father:

So by their simple pious fooling,

Both Rivals love-sutes lay a cooling.

At last from Italy there comes,

A youth bred up, 'mongst Fifes and Drums;

[Page] The sonne of one, did dayly labour,

But he as proud as Bethlem Gabor,

In Buffe and Scarfs, full richly clad;

(Good cloths indeed, wher e'r th' were had.)

But richer farre in horrid stories

Of his owne actions, and vaine glories.

And yet for all his prate and shewes,

He was poor Vincent's sonne o'th' Rose.

A thousand stories he did tell,

Surpassing Sir Iohn Mandevill.

Vincent his name was, (and you know, men

From such a name may take an Omen)

But he was Vincent of the Rose,

And under that lies to purpose.

To Market when he came, the people

Rung out the greatest bell i'th' Steeple:

So that they flockt unto this Hector,

To heare his tales, as to a Lecture.

Amongst the rest of lowly ranck,

Leandra spied this Mountebanck;

Who to his quacking brought a Gitterne,

(As musicall as any Bitterne.)

Of every thing he had a Poem,

And 'mongst his Auditors would throw 'em.

Leandra, not so wise as faire,

Was taken with this pedlars ware:

His fabulous stories she adores,

As Desdemona did the Moors;

And all his dangers counterfeit

(Poor fool,) as true, shee did conceit.

His broken pate with pots and glasses

She takes for honoured wounds and sla [...]hes;

And for a bullet (strangely shot)

The ugly Squinzy in his throat.

His pit-hole face with the small pox,

The dents of Mars his powder box.

He need not feign; her love found out,

Enough to cozen her no doubt.

And now (as if the Divell would have it,)

He askt her will, shee forthwith gave it.

Fathers consent shee stai'd not for,

Surrender is for man of warre.

Now all the plot and chiefe contrivance,

Was how to get his spoused wife-hence.

What ever shee could wrap or wring

Into her night-bag shee did fling;

A horse shee stole too from the stables,

To carry her to famous Npal [...]s;

[Page] Long time before that, Mas Anello

From fisher man was a brave fellow.

But now her Vincent of the Rose

Prov'd not so fragrant in the close;

For to a Cave he brought the damzell,

Pretending there to rest her hams well:

But the entertainment farre and wide is,

Of Dido, and her Anchisides.

For here the storme was in the Cave,

Tempests of oaths the Villaine gave;

And charg'd Leandra to unstrip her,

(The Virgin fear'd that he would whip her)

But he whipt nothing but her cloaths;

Shee charg'd him by his vowes and oaths;

Nothing would move Vincent o'th' Rock,

But leaves Leandra in her smock,

Without a light or any fewell,

Despoyl'd of all but her best Jewell.

But chastity we know of old

(And without cloths is wondrous cold.

At last shee heard a noyse of hoopers,

And peeping out shee finds them Troopers:

Then did shee cry, thumping her brest,

Now Vincent's serv'd, they'l have the rest;

A thousand feares did then surprize her,

Shee wishes now shee had been wiser:

But strait her feares and troubles vanish,

Shee knew the Troopers to be Spanish;

And one amongst them was old Iaquez,

Who us'd to carry her to the Cake-house;

Iaquez shee cry'd, come help thy mistresse,

And rid me out of this same distresse.

Iaquez at first was main affrighted,

But suddenly the Swaine alighted.

And kneeling said, my pretty Donna,

How is't you have no garments on-a?

It is the mode of Spanish Ladies

To goe in smocks o' nights, not a-dayes;

Now since I see you shrewdly lack it,

I pray invest you in my Jacket;

Which would be warmer I believe,

If there were to it e'r a sleeve.

But since we cann't help that disaster.

Get up behind, I'll ride the faster:

Without a Pillion or a Crupper,

To jolt it thus behind a Trooper,

Did very much Leandra trouble,

Nor had shee ought for to lay double.

[Page] So that shee wept as shee did ride,

And wisht shee could have sate a-stride:

But Iaques spurr'd and spurr'd, and switch'd,

Ride softlier Iaques shee beseech'd;

But Iaquet stints not, till he brought her

Unto his Master, who then sought her.

And having got good wives about her,

In better fashion they did clout her;

And lest the rumor farre should runne,

Shee presently became a Nunne;

And since shee could not married be,

Vow'd untill death, virginity.

VVhich, whether Vincent of the Rose

Had, or had not, yet no man knowes:

Anselmo and Eugenio,

Having lost her, lost themselves too.

And being Venus famous dotards,

One turn'd Shepheard, t'other Goat-heard.

Comparing women in their notes,

To wandring Sheep, and capering Goates;

VVhilest they are even with the fools,

And laugh at them that love by rules.

CHAP. XXV.

A simple Goat-heard will Leandra bury

By's unbeliefe in a cold Monastery.

Here was her Heros; here the Hercules,

Confide in Don, down goe the Nunneries:

But he distrusting in our ill fac'd Ops,

Is mulcted for his doubting in the chops

With a good loafe; to gather up the arms

Came Sancho up tro, or revenge Don's harmes?

But come he did, and did most highly ruffle,

Which made the businesse but a Table-scuffle;

From which the Don retreated, when a Trumpet

Call'd him to true incounter, and to some feat

Of desperate valour; what could bound his fancy,

Who will adventure, though he cann't a man see?

At last appears the blessed virgins statue:

A ravish'd Lady sweares the Don, have at you.

O how he flies about, and hacks and slices

The poor white Fryars, and their clean sur-plices!

They sang aloud, good Lord de-liver us,

And suffer not this Don to sliver us.

[Page] Let downe the Captive, (quoth the Don) don't dare us,

Nor thinke I'll spare yee, for your good Lord spare us:

But the great Lady would not see this wrong,

And shee reveng'd th' affronter with a prong;

Which on his heaving shoulder fell full sore,

And from his horse, threw Quixot o'r and o'r.

Loe where the man of Knights profession

Lies stoun'd by th' adventured of Procession;

Who if he rise againe, to beat any,

Will never charge for this the Let any.

TEXT.

CErtes (friend Goatherd) if I were at this time able to undertake any adventure.] Being under Inchantment, otherwise there's no time, when a Knight-Errant is not offensive, and defensive; that is, either beating or beaten. It is too much a conscience to be at once, at war with men and Devils: Necromancers, Sorcerers, Witches, VVizards, and the like, being of the traine band of Hell and black guards of Pluto, were no small enemies of the Don's. No man I think, of that valiant, honourable, but desperate profession was ever oftner or longer, under captivity of the Diabolicall forces: and although some wiser then others, would laugh the opinion out of the world, and maintaine that there are no VVitches nor withcrafts, Inchanters, nor inchantments, spirits or familiars, against the received sentences of Tribunals, the confessions of divers condemned persons, the visible teats and nipples, whereat the young Incubi and Succubae, were constantly fed: The strange creatures that like Squirrels, Rats, VVeezles, VVhippe [...]s, Hares, Mice, Polecats, and innumerable other vermine, haunt and frequent such people, also their owne severall transmutations into the shapes of Horses, Deer, Hares, (in which shapes they have been rid, many hundred, of more then errantick miles) hunted, and sometimes suffer'd; yet they find Patrons to defend the impossibility of such operations, contracts, or Diabolicall disguises, when they cannot deny, but the first practice upon humane nature was by the Devill in Serpente, using the instruments of tha [...] subtle creature, to form a language and discourse, whereby he deluded the most perfect of her generation, and hath so intail'd that victory upon both sexes, but especially on that, that in the mishaps and claps of women, nothing is more frequent, then to intitle the Devill to his owne work, and to devolve the businesse (if not totally, yet principally) from themselves, when by way of evasion, they say, surely I was bewitch'd, or the Devill was in me, or I was not my selfe, in my right mind, that is, inchanted, as the Don was in the Text, from whom action was as inseparable as the nose from his face, (for I cannot say the care from his head (but during this deadly charms efficacy.

Thou art a great villain, said Don Quixot, and thou, &c. The Inchantment doth a little abate, and his knightly spirits returne in such abundance, that he makes a weapon of a loafe, which was us'd to refresh them, and not [Page] to be cast (as here) in any teeth but his owne.

If Sancho Pancha had not arriv'd at the instant.] Sancho had been Fluellin in this scuffle, (the pillage of such battels, alwaies belonging to him) if the eminent danger of his masters throat, had not prov'd an utter enemy to his own. If the Goatherd had not almost throtled his master, Sancho had in a short time choak'd himselfe with the ingurgitated reliques and orts of the Canons provision. But it is a Lapithaean feast, where there was more meat then manners, more stomack then feeding; not like Tantalus his fare, was this at the Table, flying from their lips, but flying at them, and in such flocks, that there was more meat for their mouths, then mouths for their meat, non offendimur ambulante coenâ, Is understood, when one dish dances round the table, but this was all a running banquet, as if they had been serv'd in plates of quicksilver. No dish nor cup stood still, but only while 'twas kiss'd, and the salutations so pestilent and close, that they drew blood at billing: Insomuch, that though the meat was well drest, the guests were all raw, and blood runne about their mouths, as if they had been Cannibals, and fed upon one another.

In conclusion they heard the sound of a Trumpet.] What at other times animates to fight, did here dissolve the fray: The noble sound of that Warlike instrument, recall'd shame into the combatants, who full of flesh-wounds, cross'd the cudgels the right way, and fell to picking quarrels with their teeth, their bellies being the only sufferers, and not easily after so great a spoyle, to be satisfied; But as the Fool thinketh, so the bell tinketh. The Don conceits this Trumpet sounds for his assistance; the Lady Micomiconas Trumpet upon his life, who having join'd battell with Pandafiland her mortall foe, sent this summons for the restorer of her Kingdome; or else Dulcineas Trumpet at her dinner of Beanes, and gray Pease; or else Fames Trumpet, to blow him honourably home after his many victories. But it was not so, nor so, nor so. But a Trumpet it was, and a Ladies Trumpet too; but at this time, it blew no good to the Don; it was a solemn Church Trumpet, sounding dolefully before an armory of Prayers and teares, to remove a great drought from the Land, but it prov'd Quixot's day of judgement-Trumpet, after the dismall sounds, whereof he was carried to the Mancha to his old woman, which was as bad as Hell and furies to him.

Sancho saying, whither doe you goe Sr Don Quixot? What Devils doe you beare in your brest, that you runne thus against the Catholick faith?] Contra Romanam Catholicam fidem you should say Sancho, for Don Quixot and your selfe both, by your stomacks Lutherans, (but by your provisions, Carthusians, or Cappucines) might very well be against Images, and yet maintaine the Catholike Faith without mutilation of the second Commandement, or breaking one into two.

But Sancho labour'd all in vaine.] The whole Councill of Trent could not have perswaded the Don from the attempt, who at this instant, fiercer then the Councill of Dort, fear'd no Anathemas, Buls, nor Beares. This action (had it been in late dayes) would have new dubb'd him, Knight of the reformation, and from the successe of this adventure, as great an harvest of conversion might have been expected, as was from the fall of Mahomets Tombe amongst the Jews and Infidels; which Tombe hath stood on the ground at Mecha, ever since the imbalming of that impostor, although it is a piece of [Page] Alchoran faith, that he in an Iron Chest, hangs in the aire, supported by the equall attraction of two loadstones.

He assaulted the Image-Carriers, one whereof leaving the charge of the burthen, encountred the Knight with a wooden forke, &c.] This fellow stood not for an Image it seems: His faith was prov'd by his workes; for he was resolv'd to try which was the greater Pageant, that which they carried, or he which Rosinant. O the unfortunatenesse of this adventure! Pitchforke prevails against Sword, and Porter against Knight. The Don by one unhappy blow is depriv'd of the use of his shoulder, a judgement (no doubt in specie) punishing that part, which first did lift it selfe against the Idoll. Nec enim lex justior ulla est, &c.

Then might they heare Sancho bewailing him with tears in his eyes, in this manner. O flower of Chivalry!]

O yee Knight-Errants past, and those to come,

Weep yee before you'r born, you from the tombe:

This day was slaine in homely fashion,

Their envy, and your, Imitation.

Whom they ne'r liv'd to see, you ne'r will see,

Vnlesse it be in this sad Elegie;

Wherefore we'l leave him in a Character,

For in effigie, 'twill be fowler farre.

The Knight that Lady lov'd, and ne'r enjoy'd,

That fought with any thing, but ne'r destroy'd.

That eat but little, lesse then little paid,

That frighted every one, of all afraid.

That had a faithfull Squire, that had an Asse,

That had an Iland had but for this passe.

That Knight stretcht out, lyes to be seen at length,

That bestrid Rosinant, that Horse of strength,

That is the Knight, that must be the example,

That the prime horse, that with Knight-Errants vamp will.

That Squire that weeps, is he that is content

(That Iland lost) to live o'th' continent,

Don Quixot was call'd againe to himselfe with Sancho's out-cries.] It had been worth Sancho's question; and none indeed deserv'd the answer to it but Sancho; whether in this deliquium and trance, his soule was transported? What more eminent place in Elysium was prepared for Knight-Errants, then of any other order? And whether he did see those many Hero's, whose Histories incited him to this profession, advanced according to the merits of their undertakings in the other world? What habits Amadis du [...]aul, and the other Amadis of Greece wore? Or whether there were any investitures at all, till the compleat number of Knight-Errants were accomplished in his departure? Or were there any more to follow? But Sancho was over-joy'd at the sight of his revoked Lord, and forgot to move the question. And the Don (as all recoveries and victories, are imputed to the soveraigne aspects of their Ladies, so their defeats and crosses to their aversions, or some obnoxious interpositions) Knight-Errant like gave the maxime of his sufferings, to be the absence and long distance betwixt [Page] the Tobosian Lady, and his person, unto whom now, as to an Antidote, as fast as Cart can goe, he will hasten.

Sancho, replied Don Quixot, thou speakest reasonably, and it will be great wisdome, to let passe the crosse aspects of those Planets that raigne at this present.]

Knight-Errantry doth not ingage the order of them against the Stars, if they be Planet-struck once, they never returne a blow; 'tis wisdome then, not valour must manage the businesse.

Sapiens dominabitur astris.

And certeinly, if ever Knights were borne under malignant Planets, ours was. Venus was crosse legg'd; Mars retrograde; Sol in nubibus; Iupiter excentrick; Saturne sullen; Luna and Mercury only conspir'd to assist him home againe; She, because he was her companion much on nights, the other for his unwearied Errantry on dayes: Insomuch, that if the number ever be augmented amongst them, he is in election to make the eight Planet: What influence the septentriones had upon him at present, is to be easily guess'd, for he is upon his second hoyst into the Cart, and but that the Don was provided, there was an Auriga for him too.

There the Wain-man yoked his Oxen, and accommodated the Knight on a bottle of Hay.] Grasse and Hay, we are all mortall, the greatest men must dye like beasts, though the Don expires with what a beast would live. Rosinant only envyed him this cushion, who for the present, wish'd to change places with him. Thus you see the sad conclusion of this famous Knight, who indeed deserv'd a more Sella Curulis; but his vast knowledge in the miscarriages of his predecessors, made him slight these present indignities: For when he considered Marius in a Lake, (as good a place as Tom Turds field) Orlando in Bedlam, Amadis du Gaul in a Dungeon, and he of Greece in shackles; the Valiant Gataor forc'd to runne the Gauntlet, the Knight of the Burning Pestle in Cornelius Tub, and most of their Squires like Sancho, indeed at the Carts taile, but not like Sancho with his shirt on, he play'd a little with the hay he sate upon, (the emblem of humane frailty) and after that (as if he eat it chopt) he said nothing but this, ‘Non sum majoribus impar.’

Which some thought, he spoke, alluding to Bajazet, who was in this manner carried about by the insulting Tamerlane. Others thought that he call'd to mind, his Manchegall predecessors, who were Plow-men, and not disdaining the contemplation of his originals, resolv'd to beginne that world againe, and invert the Poem to Virgils Aeneids;

Ille ego qui quondam Mavortis, terror in armis,

Ad patriam redeo, ut parerent arva Colono.

Translated thus.

Since our design for Errantry is broke,

I'll still subdue, though Oxen under yoak:

Nor shall this Cage my vast ambition bound,

I'll fall to plough, and so I'll tear the ground.

Sancho Panca's wife, as soon as ever shee saw her husband, askt whether the Asse were in health or no? &c.] The question serving for both man and Master; Sancho replyed to its double sence, and saith, the Animall was in the better condition of the two. Sancho's eares were faln, and this dishonourable [Page] returne, crosse to all his hopes, made him asham'd to see his wife, as he might well, who expected the title of a Queen at least; but she is but Ione Pancha still: 'Twas well (since it could be no better) quoth Ione, that he brought the Asse with him, and the fool that rode him; this night they will have an incounter, and for more.

But of his end he could find nothing, if good fortune had not offer'd to his view, an old Physitian, who had in his custody a leaden box, &c.] Who this old Physitian should be, is very hard to conjecture, for he was a great Antiquary beside, as will appeare by his delight in these monuments, and rare reliques of the Don; Unlesse it should be Iohn Dellues, I know not whom he meanes: For Iohn having liv'd famous throughout all Spaine for mighty cures, at last fell sick, and being neer his end, some friend desir'd that he would not bury with him the meanes whereby he grew so eminent; Iohn told his friend all, that it was true, a great fame liv'd with him, and would follow him; but for the criticall knowledge and successe in his cures, it was thus: He had a fortune Physick book, wherein the names of most diseases were wrote, and as Patients came for his opinion, he withdrew for a season, and in that intervall, threw the dice, and upon what disease the chance fell, that was the patients sicknesse, then he threw againe for the cures, and accordingly followed those medicines, on which the dice rested. This was his directory for diseases and remedies, which he made use of to his end, and the end of many; but the number of his cures surmounting his losses, his bad casts went for nothing. By this easie way of practice, (for illuminative and inspired physick he detested, as also all counsels with other Physitians) he had the more leisure for the enquiry into these old records; and amongst many, he at last happened upon those of the Mancha; out of which he gathered some few Epitaphs, Elegies, and fancies, upon Don Quixot, Dulcinea of Toboso, and in the praise of Rosinante and Sancho Pancha; With which we shall conclude, desiring you to doe the Don this last honour, to see him in his urne, and heare what is said over his ashes.

The End of the Fourth Book.

§

[Page]

Knights Templers on the worthy Knight, DON QUIXOTS Death.

AWakened from the round where we long lay,

Still men of Arms as you may see, not clay:

We shake our weighty limbs, and crested heads,

And would, but for the grates, rise from our beds,

Where we inchanted lye; no more the talk's

Of us, let Quixot's name fill up the walks.

Brother in Armes, we will afford thee room,

Lye close STEROPES, Don Quixot's come.

We will dispence this Temple for thy Coarse,

We have another for thy famous Horse.

Knights of Jerusalem on DON QUIXOT.

SInce the long dayes of old Mathusalem,

No Knights so great as the Ierusalem.

(The Knights o't'h Holy Warre) untill the Don's

Renowned acts out-cry'd us of St Iohns.

We ventur'd to redeem the Sepulchre

From Pagan hands; but lye in Angli-terre:

Our monuments are now defac'd, our Cavernes,

And nothing left of us, but signes of Tavernes:

But yet for all our injuries and wrongs,

Wee'll find a place for thee, neer justice Longs;

Where in the memory of thy strange fights,

Thumping and beating is both days and nights.

Duke Humphrey to DON QUIXOT.

VNtombed I, a place to thee resigne,

Lye, if thou wilt, in the same ground was mine;

'Twill be small charge to thy Executor

To raise a Tombe, for there are stones good store:

Thy Votaries as they doe passe that way,

May fast as they did use, where they please pray.

[Page]

Long Meg of Westminster, to Dulcinea of Toboso.

I Long Meg once, the wonder of the Spinsters,

Was laid, as was my right, i'th' best of Ministers;

Nor have the Wardens ventur'd all this whiles,

To lay, except my selfe, one in those Iles.

Indeed untill this time, ne'r any one

Was worthy to be Megs Companion.

But since Toboso hath so fruitfull been,

To bring forth one might be my Sister-twinne;

Alike in breadth of face, (no Margeries

Had ever wider cheeks, or larger eyes)

Alike in Shoulders, Belly, and in flancks,

Alike in legs too, (for we had no shancks)

And for our feet, alike from heel to toe,

The Shoomakers the length did never know.

Lye thou by me, no more it shall be common,

One Ile of man there is, this Ile of woman.

Bancks his Horse to Rosinant.

THough Rosinante famous was in fields

For swiftnesse, yet no Horse like me had heels.

Goldsmiths did shoe me, not the Ferri-Fabers;

One nail of mine, was worth their whole weeks labours.

Horse, thou of metall too, but not of gold,

('Twas best 'twas so, or oft they had been sold)

Let us compare ou [...] s [...]ats; thou top of Nowles

Of hils hast oft been seen, I top of Paules.

To Smythfield Horses I stood there the wonder,

I only was at top, more have been under.

Thou like a Spanish Iennet, got i'th' wind,

Wert hoysted by a Windmill; 'twas in kinde.

But never yet was seen in Spaine or France,

A Horse like Bancks his, that toth' pipe would dance:

Tell mony with his feet; a thing which you,

Good Rosinante nor Quixot er could doe.

Yet I doe yield, surpassed in one feat,

Thou art the only Horse, that liv'dst sans meat.

[Page]

The Aldermen of Gotam to Sancho Pancha.

O Doe not grieve, (although thy losse,

To lose a Lord, not worth a crosse,

Be losse enough) who now gone home is,

Unlikely e'r to keep his promise.

We hearing of thy great renowne,

Desire thee to o'r rule our Town:

You'l find us easie to be rul'd;

People that will be, must be fooll'd.

A sort of cockscombs cannot tell

When we are ill, nor when we 're well:

Full of mony, full of pride,

And want an ebb to our long tide.

You need not bring your Asse with you,

You shall have Asses here enow:

VVe will make good your Don's intent,

And seat you in this government.

Sancho did seem to shift it off,

But when he had it once, did laugh.

The Sexton of the Mancha on DON QVIXOT.

THE hardy Knight, and sole,

That e'r liv'd under Pole,

Lyes buried in this hole.

He that i'th' aire did fly,

By windmill t [...]st on high,

Under a clod doth lye.

H [...] that gave Ilands, and

Unto his Squire command,

Cannot stirre foot nor hand.

Here, after all his tricks,

The bones are of Don Quix:

The rest is gon to Sty [...].

The same upon Dulcinea Del Toboso.

HEre in a hollow trunk,

Full deep in the earth sunk,

Lyes one, above ground stunk.

Who (saving her presence)

Had not been carried whence

Shee dy'd, but for offence.

Who having lost her Lord,

Abhorring and abhorr'd,

Dy'd of her owne accord.

O let her ashes rest,

Now shee is in her neast.

To stirre 'um is not best.

FINIS.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

Pleasant notes upon Don Quixot by Edmund Gayton, Esq.

Gayton, Edmund, 1608-1666.

Edition statement

1654

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A42535

ID [STC]

Wing G415

ID [STC]

ESTC R7599

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12251633

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12251633

ID [VID]

57130

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A42535)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 57130)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 145:6)

Source

— Pleasant notes upon Don Quixot by Edmund Gayton, Esq., Gayton, Edmund, 1608-1666..

Extent

[14], 290 p.

Printed by William Hunt,. London :: 1654.. (Caption title: Festivous notes upon Don Quixot.) (Reproduction of original in Harvard University Libraries.)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.