sancho panza to don quixote de la mancha.
"I am so taken up with business that I have not yet had time to let you know whether it goes well or illwith me in this same government, where I am more hunger-starved than when you and I wandered through woods and wildernesses.
"My lord duke wrote to me the other day to inform me of some spies that were got into this island to kill me; but as yet I have discovered none but a certain doctor, hired by the islanders to kill all the governors that come near it. They call him Dr. Pedro Rezio de Anguero, and he was born at Tirteafuera. His name is enough to make me fear he will be the death of me. This same doctor says of himself, that he does cure diseases when you have them; but when you have them not, he only pretends to keep them from coming. The physic he uses is fasting upon fasting, till he turns a body to a mere skeleton; as if to be wasted to skin and bones were not as bad as a fever. In short, he starves me to death; so that, when I thought, as being a governor, to have plenty of good hot victuals and cool liquor, and to repose on a soft feather-bed, I am come to do penance like a hermit.
"I have not yet so much as fingered the least penny of money, either for fees or anything else; and how it comes to be no better with me I cannot imagine, for I have heard that the governors who come to this island are wont to have a very good gift, or at least a very round sum given them by the town before they enter. And they say, too, that this is the usual custom, not only here but in other places.
"Last night, in going my rounds, I met with a mighty handsome damsel in boy's clothes, and a brother of hers in woman's apparel. My gentleman-waiter fellin love with the girl, and intends to make her his wife, as he says. As for the youth, I have pitched on him to be my son-in-law. To-day we both design to talk to the father, one Diego de la Llana, who is a gentleman, and an old Christian every inch of him.
"I visit the markets as you advised me, and yesterday found one of the hucksters selling hazel-nuts. She pretended they were all new; but I found she had mixed a whole bushel of old, empty, rotten nuts among the same quantity of new. With that I adjudged them to be given to the hospital boys, who know how to pick the good from the bad, and gave sentence against her that she should not come into the market for fifteen days; and people said I did well.
"I am mighty well pleased that my lady duchess has written to my wife, Teresa Pauza, and sent her the token you mention. It shall go hard but I will requite her kindness one time or other. Pray give my service to her, and tell her from me she has not cast her gift in a broken sack, as something more than words shall show.
"If I might advise you, and had my wish, there should be no falling out between your worship and my lord and lady; for, if you quarrel with them, it is I must come by the worst for it. And, since you mind me of being grateful, it will not look well in you not to be so to those who have made so much of you at their castle.
"If my wife, Teresa Panza, writes to me, pray pay the postage and send me the letter; for I have a mighty desire to know how fares it with her, and my house andchildren. So Heaven protect your worship from evil-minded enchanters, and bring me safe and sound out of this government; which I very much doubt, seeing how I am treated by Doctor Pedro Rezio.
"Your worship's servant,
"Sancho Panza,the Governor."
teresa panza's letter to her husband, sancho panza.
"I received thy letter, dear Sancho of my soul, and I promise and swear to thee, on the faith of a Catholic Christian, I was within two finger-breadths of running mad with joy; and take notice, brother, when I heard thou wast a governor, I had liked to have dropped down dead with pure pleasure; for thou knowest they say sudden joy kills as well as deadly sorrow.
"Thy hunting-suit lay before me, the string of corals sent by lady duchess was tied round my neck, the letters were in my hand, and the messenger in my presence; and yet I imagined and believed that all I saw and handled was a dream, for who could conceive that a goatherd should come to be governor of islands? Thou knowest, my friend, that my mother said, 'One must live long to see a great deal.' This I mention because I hope to see more if I live longer, for I do not intend to stop until I see thee a farmer or collector of the revenue,—offices which, though they carry those who abuse them to the devil, are, in short, always bringing in the penny.
"My lady duchess will tell thee how desirous I amof going to court. Consider of it, and let me know thy pleasure, for I will endeavor to do thee honor there by riding in my coach.
"The curate, barber, bachelor, and even the sexton, cannot believe thou art a governor, and say the whole is a deception or matter of enchantment, like all the affairs of thy master, Don Quixote. Sampson vows he will go in quest of thee, and drive this government out of thy head, as well as the madness out of Don Quixote's skull. I say nothing, but laugh in my own sleeve, look at my beads, and contrive how to make thy hunting-suit into a gown and petticoat for our daughter. I have sent some acorns to my lady duchess, and I wish they were of gold. Send me some strings of pearls, if they are in fashion in thy island.
"The news of our town are these: the widow of the hill has matched her daughter with a bungling painter, who came here and undertook all sort of work. The corporation employed him to paint the king's arms over the gate of the town-house. He asked them two ducats for the job, which they paid beforehand; so he fell to it and worked eight days, at the end of which he had made nothing of it, and said he could not bring his hand to paint such trumpery, and returned the money; yet, for all that, he married in the name of a good workman. The truth is, he has left his brushes and taken up the spade, and goes to the field like a gentleman. Pedro de Lobo's son has taken orders and shaved his crown, meaning to be a priest. Minguilla, Mingo Silvato's niece, hearing of it, is suing him upon a promise of marriage. We have had no olives this year, nor is there a drop ofvinegar to be had in all the town. A company of foot-soldiers passed through here, and carried off with them three girls. I will not say who they are; mayhap they will return, and somebody or other marry them, with all their faults. Sanchica makes bone-lace, and gets eight maravedis a day, which she drops into a saving-box, to help her toward household stuff; but now that she is a governor's daughter, she has no need to work, for thou wilt give her a portion without it. The fountain in our market-place is dried up. A thunderbolt fell upon the pillory, and there may they all alight! I expect an answer to this, and about my going to court. And so God grant thee more years than myself, or as many, for I would not willingly leave thee behind me.
"Thy wife,
"Teresa Panza."
To think that the affairs of this life are always to remain in the same state is an erroneous fancy. The face of things rather seems continually to change and roll with circular motion; summer succeeds the spring, autumn the summer, winter the autumn, and then spring again. So time proceeds in this perpetual round; only the life of man is ever hastening to its end, swifter than time itself, without hopes to be renewed, unless in the next, that is unlimited and infinite. For even by the light of nature and without that of faith, many have discovered the swiftness and instability of this present being, and the duration of the eternal life which is expected.
"I know St. Peter is well at Rome," meaning every one does well to follow the employment to which he was bred.
Let no one stretch his feet beyond the length of his sheet.
When thou art in Rome follow the fashions of Rome.
Sweet is our love of native land.
The prudent man who is expecting to be deprived of his habitation looks out for another before he is turned out of doors.
Well-got wealth may meet disaster,But ill-got wealth destroys its master.
Well-got wealth may meet disaster,But ill-got wealth destroys its master.
Bread is relief for all kind of grief.
We can bear with patience the ill-luck that comes alone.
Man projects in vain,For God doth still ordain.
Man projects in vain,For God doth still ordain.
As is the reason,Such is the season.
As is the reason,Such is the season.
Let no man presume to thinkOf this cup I will not drink.Where the flitch we hope to find,Not even a hook is left behind.
Let no man presume to thinkOf this cup I will not drink.Where the flitch we hope to find,Not even a hook is left behind.
Keep a safe conscience, and let people say what they will.
It is as impracticable to tie up the tongue of malice as to erect barricades in the open fields.
"If a governor resigns his office in good circumstances, people say he must have been an oppressor and a knave; and if poverty attends him in his retreat, they set him down as an idiot and fool."
"For this time," answered Sancho, "I am certain they will think me more fool than knave."
The great Sancho Panza, the flower and mirror of all island governors.
A law neglected is the same as if it had never been enacted.
Give always to the catWhat was kept for the rat,And let it be thy viewAll mischief to eschew.
Give always to the catWhat was kept for the rat,And let it be thy viewAll mischief to eschew.
It is fitting that all who receive a benefit should show themselves grateful, though it be only a trifle.
song of altisidora.
Stay, cruel knight,Take not thy flight,Nor spur thy battered jade;Thy haste restrain,Draw in the rein,And hear a love-sick maid.Why dost thou fly?No snake am I,That poison those I love.Gentle I amAs any lamb,And harmless as a dove.Thy cruel scornHas left forlornA nymph whose charms may vieWith theirs who sportIn Cynthia's court,Though Venus' self were by.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!Like ravenous kiteThat takes its flightSoon as't has stol'n a chicken,Thou bear'st awayMy heart, thy prey,And leav'st me here to sicken.Three night-caps, too,And garters blue,That did to legs belongSmooth to the sightAs marble white,And faith, almost as strong.Two thousand groans,As many moans,And sighs enough to fireOld Priam's town,And burn it down,Did it again aspire.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!May Sancho ne'erHis buttocks bareFly-flap, as is his duty;And thou still wantTo disenchantDulcinea's injured beauty.May still transformed,And still deformed,Toboso's nymph remain,In recompenseOf thy offence,Thy scorn and cold disdain.When thou dost wieldThy sword in field,In combat, or in quarrel,Ill-luck and harmsAttend thy arms,Instead of fame and laurel.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!May thy disgraceFill every place,Thy falsehood ne'er be hid,But round the worldBe tossed and hurled,From Seville to Madrid.If, brisk and gay,Thou sitt'st to playAt ombre or at chess,May ne'er spadilleAttend thy will,Nor luck thy movements bless.Though thou with careThy corns dost pare,May blood the penknife follow;May thy gums rage,And naught assuageThe pain of tooth that's hollow.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!
Stay, cruel knight,Take not thy flight,Nor spur thy battered jade;Thy haste restrain,Draw in the rein,And hear a love-sick maid.Why dost thou fly?No snake am I,That poison those I love.Gentle I amAs any lamb,And harmless as a dove.Thy cruel scornHas left forlornA nymph whose charms may vieWith theirs who sportIn Cynthia's court,Though Venus' self were by.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!
Like ravenous kiteThat takes its flightSoon as't has stol'n a chicken,Thou bear'st awayMy heart, thy prey,And leav'st me here to sicken.Three night-caps, too,And garters blue,That did to legs belongSmooth to the sightAs marble white,And faith, almost as strong.Two thousand groans,As many moans,And sighs enough to fireOld Priam's town,And burn it down,Did it again aspire.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!
May Sancho ne'erHis buttocks bareFly-flap, as is his duty;And thou still wantTo disenchantDulcinea's injured beauty.May still transformed,And still deformed,Toboso's nymph remain,In recompenseOf thy offence,Thy scorn and cold disdain.When thou dost wieldThy sword in field,In combat, or in quarrel,Ill-luck and harmsAttend thy arms,Instead of fame and laurel.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!
May thy disgraceFill every place,Thy falsehood ne'er be hid,But round the worldBe tossed and hurled,From Seville to Madrid.If, brisk and gay,Thou sitt'st to playAt ombre or at chess,May ne'er spadilleAttend thy will,Nor luck thy movements bless.Though thou with careThy corns dost pare,May blood the penknife follow;May thy gums rage,And naught assuageThe pain of tooth that's hollow.Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee,Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee!
Liberty is one of the most precious gifts which Heaven hath bestowed on man, exceeding all the treasures which earth encloses, or which ocean hides; and for this blessing, as well as for honor, we may and ought to venture life itself. On the other hand, captivity and restraint are the greatest evils that human nature can endure. I make this observation, Sancho, because thou hast seen the delicacies and the plenty with which we were entertained in that castle; yet, in the midst of those savory banquets and ice-cooled potations, I thought myself confined within the very straits of famine, because I did not enjoy the treat withthat liberty which I should have felt had it been my own.
Obligations incurred by benefits and favors received are fetters which hamper the free-born soul.
Happy is he to whom Heaven hath sent a morsel of bread, for which he is obliged to none but Heaven itself.
The man in wisdom must be oldWho knows in giving where to hold.
The man in wisdom must be oldWho knows in giving where to hold.
All times are not the same, nor equally fortunate; and those incidents which the vulgar call omens, though not founded on any natural reason, have, even by persons of sagacity, been held and deemed as fair and fortunate. One of these superstitious omen-mongers rises in the morning, goes abroad, chances to meet a friar belonging to the beatified St. Francis; and as if he had encountered a dragon in his way, runs back to his own house with fear and consternation. Another Foresight by accident scatters the salt upon the table, by which fear and melancholy are scattered through his heart; as if Nature was obliged to foretell future misfortunes by such trivial signs and tokens; whereas a prudent man and a good Christian will not so minutely scrutinize the purposes of Heaven. Scipio, chancing to fall in landing upon the coast of Afric, and perceiving that his soldiers looked upon this accident as a bad omen, he embraced the soil with seeming eagerness,saying, "Thou shalt not 'scape me, Afric, for I have thee safe in my arms."
Love has no respect of persons, and laughs at the admonitions of reason; like Death, he pursues his game both in the stately palaces of kings and the humble huts of shepherds. When he has got a soul fairly in his clutches, his first business is to deprive it of all shame and fear.
Beauty, they say, is the chief thing in love-matters.
"Hearken to me, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "there are two kinds of beauty,—the one of the mind, the other of the body. That of the mind shines forth in good sense and good conduct, in modesty, liberality, and courtesy; and all these qualities may be found in one who has no personal attractions; and when that species of beauty captivates, it produces a vehement and superior passion. I well know, Sancho, that I am not handsome, but I know also that I am not deformed; and a man of worth, if he be not hideous, may inspire love, provided he has those qualities of the mind which I have mentioned."
Of all the sins that men commit, though some say pride, in my opinion ingratitude is the worst. It is truly said that hell is full of the ungrateful. From that foul crime I have endeavored to abstain ever since I enjoyed the use of reason; and if I cannot return the good offices done me by equal benefits, I substitute mydesire to repay them; and if this be not enough, I publish them: for he who proclaims the favors he has received would return them if he could. And generally the power of the receiver is unequal to that of the giver, like the bounty of Heaven, to which no man can make an equal return. But, though utterly unable to repay the unspeakable beneficence of God, gratitude affords an humble compensation suited to our limited powers.
Lay a bridge of silver for a flying enemy.
Let Martha die, so that she be well fed.
He that has skill should handle the quill.
There is no greater folly than to give way to despair.
Patience often falls to the ground when it is over-loaded with injuries.
Alexander the Great ventured to cut the Gordian knot, on the supposition that cutting would be as effectual as untying it, and, notwithstanding this violence, became sole master of all Asia.
"Be not concerned," said Roque, addressing himself to Don Quixote, "nor tax Fortune with unkindness. By thus stumbling, you may chance to stand more firmly than ever; for Heaven, by strange and circuitousways, incomprehensible to men, is wont to raise the fallen and enrich the needy."
Oh, maddening sting of jealousy, how deadly thy effects!
Justice must needs be a good thing, for it is necessary even among thieves.
"Signor Roque," said he, "the beginning of a cure consists in the knowledge of the distemper and in the patient's willingness to take the medicines prescribed to him by his physician. You are sick; you know your malady, and God, our physician, is ready with medicines that, in time, will certainly effect a cure. Besides, sinners of good understanding are nearer to amendment than those who are devoid of it; and, as your superior sense is manifest be of good cheer and hope for your entire recovery. If in this desirable work you would take the shortest way and at once enter that of your salvation, come with me and I will teach you to be a knight-errant,—a profession, it is true, full of labors and disasters, but which, being placed to the account of penance, will not fail to lead you to honor and felicity."
The abbot must eat that sings for his meat.
Courtesy begets courtesy.
The jest that gives pain is no jest.
That pastime should not be indulged which tends to the detriment of a fellow-creature.
The fire is discovered by its own light; so is virtue by its own excellence.
No renown equals in splendor that which is acquired by the profession of arms.
Virtue demands our homage wherever it is found.
Women are commonly impatient and inquisitive.
By a man's actions may be seen the true disposition of his mind.
"Body of me," said Don Quixote, "what a progress you have made, signor, in the Tuscan language! I would venture a good wager that where the Tuscan sayspiace, you say, in Castilian,plaze; and where he sayspiu, you saymas; andsuyou translate by the wordarriba; andgiubyabaxo."
"I do so, most certainly," quoth the author, "for such are the corresponding words."
"And yet, I dare say, sir," quoth Don Quixote, "that you are scarcely known in the world,—but it is the fate of all ingenious men. What abilities are lost, what genius obscured, and what talents despised! Nevertheless, I cannot but think that translation from one language into another, unless it be from the noblest of all languages, Greek and Latin, is like presentingthe back of a piece of tapestry, where, though the figures are seen, they are obscured by innumerable knots and ends of thread, very different from the smooth and agreeable texture of the proper face of the work; and to translate easy languages of a similar construction requires no more talent than transcribing one paper from another. But I would not hence infer that translating is not a laudable exercise; for a man may be worse and more unprofitably employed. Nor can my observation apply to the two celebrated translators, Doctor Christopher de Figueroa, in his 'Pastor Fido,' and Don John de Xaurigui, in his 'Aminta,' who, with singular felicity, have made it difficult to decide which is the translation and which is the original. But tell me, signor, is this book printed at your charge, or have you sold the copyright to some bookseller?"
"I print it, sir, on my own account," answered the author, "and expect a thousand ducats by this first impression of two thousand copies. At six reals each copy they will go off in a trice."
"'Tis mighty well," quoth Don Quixote, "though I fear you know but little of the tricks of booksellers, and the juggling there is amongst them. Take my word for it, you will find a burden of two thousand volumes upon your back no trifling matter, especially if the book be deficient in sprightliness."
"What, sir!" cried the author, "would you have me give my labor to a bookseller, who, if he paid me three maravedis for it, would think it abundant, and say I was favored? No, sir, fame is not my object: of that I am already secure. Profit is what I now seek, without which fame is nothing."
"Well, Heaven prosper you, sir!" said the knight, who, passing on, observed a man correcting a sheet of a book entitled "The Light of the Soul." On seeing the title, he said, "Books of this kind, numerous as they already are, ought still to be encouraged; for numerous are the benighted sinners that require to be enlightened." He went forward, and saw another book under the corrector's hand, and, on inquiring the title, they told him it was the second part of the ingenious gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha, written by such a one, of Tordesillas.
"I know something of that book," quoth Don Quixote, "and, on my conscience, I thought it had been burnt long before now for its stupidity; but its Martinmas will come, as it does to every hog. Works of invention are only so far good as they come near to truth and probability; as general history is valuable in proportion as it is authentic."
Rashness is not valor; doubtful hopes ought to make men resolute, not rash.
There is a remedy for all things except death.
Between said and doneA long race may be run.
Between said and doneA long race may be run.
He whom Heaven favors may St. Peter bless.
They that give must take.
Where there are hooks, we do not always find bacon.
Good expectation is better than bad possession.
To-day for you, and to-morrow for me.
He that falls to-day may rise to-morrow.
Great hearts should be patient under misfortunes, as well as joyful when all goes well.
I have heard say, she they call Fortune is a drunken, freakish dame, and withal so blind that she does not see what she is about; neither whom she raises, nor whom she pulls down.
One thing I must tell thee, there is no such thing in the world as fortune; nor do the events which fall out, whether good or evil, proceed from chance, but from the particular appointment of Heaven,—and hence comes the usual saying, that every man is the maker of his own fortune.
The faults of the ass should not be laid on the pack-saddle.
When it rains let the shower fall upon my cloak.
"Observe, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "there is a great deal of difference between love and gratitude.It is very possible for a gentleman not to be in love; but, strictly speaking, it is impossible he should be ungrateful."
The sin will cease when the temptation is removed.
The heart will not grieve for what the eye doth not perceive.
What prayers can ne'er gain, a leap from a hedge may obtain.
Proverbs are short maxims of human wisdom, the result of experience and observation, and are the gifts of ancient sages; yet the proverb which is not aptly applied, instead of being wisdom, is stark nonsense.
It is the part of a good servant to sympathize with his master's pains.
"Methinks," quoth Sancho, "that a man cannot be suffering much when he can turn his brain to verse-making."
sancho panza on sleep.
"No entiendo eso," replied Sancho; "solo entiendo que en tanto que duermo, ni tengo temor, ni esperanza, ni trabajo, ni gloria; y bien haya el que inventó el sueño, capa que cubre todos los humanos pensamientos, manjar que quita la hambre, agua que ahuyenta la sed, fuego que calienta el frio, frio que templa el ardor, y finalmente moneda general con que todas las cosas secompran, balanza y peso que iguala al pastor con el rey, y al simple con el discreto. Sola una cosa tiene mala el sueño, segun he oido decir, y es que se parece á la muerte, pues de un dormido á un muerto hay muy poca diferencia."
"I know not what that means," replied Sancho; "I only know that while I am asleep I have neither fear, nor hope, nor trouble, nor glory. Blessings light on him who first invented sleep! Sleep is the mantle that shrouds all human thoughts; the food that dispels hunger; the drink that quenches thirst; the fire that warms the cold; the cool breeze that moderates heat; in a word, the general coin that purchases every commodity; the weight and balance that makes the shepherd even with his sovereign, and the simple with the sage. There is only one bad circumstance, as I have heard, in sleep: it resembles death, inasmuch as between a dead corse and a sleeping man there is no apparent difference."
"Enjoy thy repose," said Don Quixote; "thou wast born to sleep and I to watch; and, during the little of night that remains, I will give my thoughts the rein, and cool the furnace of my reflections with a short madrigal, which I have this evening, unknown to thee, composed in my own mind."
Amor, cuando yo piensoEn el mal que me das terrible y fuerte,Voy corriendo á la muerte,Pensando así acabar mi mal inmenso:Mas en llegando al paso,Que es puerto en este mar de mi tormento,Tanta alegría siento,Que la vida se esfuerza, y no le paso.Así el vivir me mata,Que la muerte me torna á dar la vida.O condicion no oida,La que conmigo muerte y vida trata!O love! when, sick of heart-felt grief,I sigh, and drag thy cruel chain,To death I fly, the sure reliefOf those who groan in lingering pain.But coming to the fatal gates,The port in this my sea of woe,The joy I feel new life creates,And bids my spirits brisker flow.Thus dying every hour I live,And living I resign my breath.Strange power of love, that thus can giveA dying life and living death!
Amor, cuando yo piensoEn el mal que me das terrible y fuerte,Voy corriendo á la muerte,Pensando así acabar mi mal inmenso:
Mas en llegando al paso,Que es puerto en este mar de mi tormento,Tanta alegría siento,Que la vida se esfuerza, y no le paso.
Así el vivir me mata,Que la muerte me torna á dar la vida.O condicion no oida,La que conmigo muerte y vida trata!
O love! when, sick of heart-felt grief,I sigh, and drag thy cruel chain,To death I fly, the sure reliefOf those who groan in lingering pain.
But coming to the fatal gates,The port in this my sea of woe,The joy I feel new life creates,And bids my spirits brisker flow.
Thus dying every hour I live,And living I resign my breath.Strange power of love, that thus can giveA dying life and living death!
Till Heaven, in pity to the weeping world,Shall give Altisidora back to day,By Quixote's scorn to realms of Pluto hurled,Her every charm to cruel death a prey;While matrons throw their gorgeous robes away,To mourn a nymph by cold disdain betrayed:To the complaining lyre's enchanting layI'll sing the praises of this hapless maid,In sweeter notes than Thracian Orpheus ever played.Nor shall my numbers with my life expire,Or this world's light confine the boundless song:To thee, bright maid, in death I'll touch the lyre,And to my soul the theme shall still belong.When, freed from clay, the flitting ghosts among,My spirit glides the Stygian shores around,Though the cold hand of death has sealed my tongue,Thy praise the infernal caverns shall rebound,And Lethe's sluggish waves move slower to the sound.
Till Heaven, in pity to the weeping world,Shall give Altisidora back to day,By Quixote's scorn to realms of Pluto hurled,Her every charm to cruel death a prey;While matrons throw their gorgeous robes away,To mourn a nymph by cold disdain betrayed:To the complaining lyre's enchanting layI'll sing the praises of this hapless maid,In sweeter notes than Thracian Orpheus ever played.
Nor shall my numbers with my life expire,Or this world's light confine the boundless song:To thee, bright maid, in death I'll touch the lyre,And to my soul the theme shall still belong.When, freed from clay, the flitting ghosts among,My spirit glides the Stygian shores around,Though the cold hand of death has sealed my tongue,Thy praise the infernal caverns shall rebound,And Lethe's sluggish waves move slower to the sound.
Better kill me outright than break my back with other men's burdens.
Sleep is the best cure for waking troubles.
Devils, play or not play, win or not win, can never be content.
History that is good, faithful, and true, will survive for ages; but should it have none of these qualities, its passage will be short between the cradle and the grave.
As for dying for love, it is all a jest; your lovers, indeed, may easily say they are dying, but that they will actually give up the ghost, believe it—Judas.
"Madam," said he, "your ladyship should know that the chief cause of this good damsel's suffering is idleness, the remedy whereof is honest and constant employment. Lace, she tells me, is much worn in purgatory, and since she cannot but know how to make it, let her stick to that; for, while her fingers are assiduously employed with her bobbins, the images that now haunt her imagination will keep aloof, and leave her mind tranquil and happy. This, madam, is my opinion and advice."
"And mine, too," added Sancho, "for I never in my life heard of a lacemaker that died for love; for your damsels that bestir themselves at some honest labor think more of their work than of their sweethearts. I know it by myself; when I am digging, I never think of my Teresa, though, God bless her! I love her more than my very eyelids."
Railing among lovers is the next neighbor to forgiveness.
The ass will carry the load, but not a double load.
When money's paid before it's due,A broken limb will straight ensue.
When money's paid before it's due,A broken limb will straight ensue.
Delay breeds danger.
Pray to God devoutly,And hammer away stoutly.
Pray to God devoutly,And hammer away stoutly.
A sparrow in the hand is worth an eagle on the wing.
"No more proverbs, for God's sake," quoth Don Quixote, "for, methinks, Sancho, thou art losing ground, and returning tosicut erat. Speak plainly, as I have often told thee, and thou wilt find it worth a loaf per cent to thee."
"I know not how I came by this unlucky trick," replied Sancho: "I cannot bring you in three words to the purpose without a proverb, nor give you a proverb which, to my thinking, is not to the purpose;—but I will try to mend."
The straw is too hard to make pipes of.
The knight and squire ascended a little eminence, whence they discovered their village; which Sancho no sooner beheld than, kneeling down, he said: "Open thine eyes, O my beloved country! and behold thy son, Sancho Panza, returning to thee again, if not rich, yet well whipped! Open thine arms, and receive thy son Don Quixote, too! who, though worsted by another, has conquered himself, which, as I have heard say, is the best kind of victory! Money I have gotten, and though I have been soundly banged, I have come off like a gentleman."
"Leave these fooleries, Sancho," quoth Don Quixote, "and let us go directly to our homes, where we will give full scope to our imagination, and settle our intended scheme of a pastoral life."
It must here be mentioned that Sancho Panza, by way of sumpter-cloth, had thrown the buckram robe painted with flames, which he had worn on the night of Altisidora's revival, upon his ass. He likewise clapped the mitre on Dapple's head,—in short, never was an ass so honored and bedizened. The priest and bachelor, immediately recognizing their friends, ran toward them with open arms. Don Quixote alighted, and embraced them cordially. In the mean time, the boys, whose keen eyes nothing can escape, came flocking from all parts.
"Ho!" cries one, "here comes Sancho Panza's ass, as gay as a parrot, and Don Quixote's old horse, leaner than ever!"
Thus, surrounded by the children and accompanied by the priest and the bachelor, they proceeded through the village till they arrived at Don Quixote's house, where, at the door, they found the housekeeper and the niece, who had already heard of his arrival. It had likewise reached the ears of Sancho's wife, Teresa, who, half-naked, with her hair about her ears, and dragging Sanchica after her, ran to meet her husband; and seeing him not so well equipped as she thought a governor ought to be, she said: "What makes you come thus, dear husband? methinks you come afoot and foundered! This, I trow, is not as a governor should look."
"Peace, wife," quoth Sancho; "the bacon is not so easily found as the pin to hang it on. Let us go home, and there you shall hear wonders. I have got money, and honestly, too, without wronging anybody."
"Hast thou got money, good husband? Nay, then,'t is well, however it be gotten; for, well or ill, it will have brought up no new custom in the world."
All things human, especially the lives of men, are transitory, ever advancing from their beginning to their decline and final determination.
"The greatest folly," said Sancho, "that a man can commit in this world, is to give himself up to death without any good cause for it, but only from melancholy."
the will of don quixote.
"I feel, good sirs," said Don Quixote, "that death advances fast upon me. Let us then be serious, and bring me a confessor, and a notary to draw up my will, for a man in my state must not trifle with his soul. Let the notary be sent for, I beseech you, while my friend here, the priest, is taking my confession."
The priest, having listened to his dying friend's confession, came out of the room and told them that the good Alonzo Quixano was near his end, and certainly in his right senses; he therefore advised them to go in, as it was full time that his will should be made. These tidings gave a terrible stab to the overcharged hearts of the two ladies and his faithful squire, whose eyes overflowed with weeping, and whose bosoms had well-nigh burst with a thousand sighs and groans; for, indeed, it must be owned, as we have somewhere observed, that whether in the character of Alonzo Quixano the Good, or in the capacity of Don Quixote de la Mancha,the poor gentleman had always exhibited marks of a peaceable temper and agreeable demeanor, for which he was beloved, not only by his own family, but also by all those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.
The notary entering the apartment with the rest of the company, wrote the preamble of the will, in which Don Quixote disposed of his soul in all the necessary Christian forms; then proceeding to the legacies, he said:—
"Item: whereas, Sancho Panza, whom, in my madness, I made my squire, has in his hands a certain sum of money for my use; and, as divers accounts, disbursements, and pecuniary transactions have passed between us, it is my will that he shall not be charged or brought to account for the said money; but, if there be any overplus after he has deducted the payment of what I owe him, the said overplus, which must be a mere trifle, shall be his own, and much good may it do him; and as, during my disorder, I contributed to his being made governor of an island, I would now, while I enjoy my perfect senses, confer upon him, were it in my power, a whole kingdom, which he richly deserves for the innocency of his heart and the fidelity of his service."
Then turning to the disconsolate squire, "Forgive me, friend," said he, "for having been the cause of thy appearing in the eye of the world a madman like myself, by drawing thee into my erroneous notions concerning the existence and adventures of knights-errant."
"Gentlemen," said Don Quixote, "let us proceed fair and softly. I was mad, I am now sane; I wasDon Quixote de la Mancha; I am now, as formerly styled, Alonzo Quixano the Good. And may my repentance and sincerity restore me to the esteem you once had for me. Now let the notary proceed.
"Item: I bequeath to Antonia Quixano, my niece, here present, all my estate, real and personal, after the payment of all my debts and legacies; and the first to be discharged shall be the wages due to my housekeeper for the time she has been in my service, and twenty ducats besides for a suit of mourning.
"I appoint for my executors signor the priest and signor bachelor Sampson Carrasco, here present.
"Item: It is also my will that, if Antonia Quixano, my niece, should be inclined to marry, it shall be only with a man who, upon the strictest inquiry, shall be found to know nothing of books of chivalry; and, in case it appear that he is acquainted with such books, and that my niece, notwithstanding, will and doth marry him, then shall she forfeit all I have bequeathed her, which my executors may dispose of in pious uses as they think proper.
"And, finally, I beseech the said gentlemen, my executors, that if haply they should come to the knowledge of the author of a certain history dispersed abroad, entitled, 'The Second Part of the Achievements of Don Quixote de la Mancha,' that they will, in my name, most earnestly entreat him to forgive me for having been the innocent cause of his writing such a number of absurdities as that performance contains; for I quit this life with some scruples of conscience arising from that consideration."
The will being thus concluded, he was seized with a fainting-fit, and stretched himself at full length in the bed, so that all the company were alarmed and ran to his assistance. During three days which he lived after the will was signed and sealed, he frequently fainted, and the whole family was in confusion. Nevertheless, the niece ate her victuals, the housekeeper drank to the repose of his soul, and even Sancho cherished his little carcass; for the prospect of succession either dispels or moderates that affliction which an heir ought to feel at the death of the testator.
At last Don Quixote expired, after having received all the sacraments, and in the strongest terms, pathetically enforced, expressed his abomination against all books of chivalry; and the notary observed, that in all the books of that kind which he had perused, he had never read of any knight-errant who died quietly in his bed as a good Christian, like Don Quixote; who, amidst the tears and lamentations of all present, gave up the ghost, or, in other words, departed this life. The curate was no sooner certified of his decease, than he desired the notary to make out a testimonial, declaring that Alonzo Quixano the Good, commonly called Don Quixote de la Mancha, had taken his departure from this life, and died of a natural death; that no other author, different from Cid Hamet Benengeli, should falsely pretend to raise him from the dead, and write endless histories of his achievements.
This was the end of that extraordinary gentleman of La Mancha, whose birthplace Cid Hamet was carefulto conceal, that all the towns and villages of that province might contend for the honor of having produced him, as did the seven cities of Greece for the glory of giving birth to Homer. The lamentations of Sancho, the niece and the housekeeper, are not here given, nor the new epitaphs on the tomb of the deceased knight, except the following one, composed by Sampson Carrasco:—