Don Quixote

Cervantes, "The History of Don Quixote de la Mancha "
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translated by John Ormsby, http://digital.library.upenn.edu/webbin/gutbook/lookup?num=996

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�p��"THE ILL-ADVISED CURIOSITY"��j�a��C

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��]��@��L�M�h�n�O�S��@�ӱ��A�L��O�@��S��𸭩M�G��A�@��S��F��@�몺�C(1 p.6)

�󨺨�ӧ��k��~....��@ť��L�٦o�̬��B�k�Aı�o�o�Ӻ٩I�M�o�̪��~�Ӥ��ۤz�F�A�N�T��j��
�_�ӡC(2 p.11)

��"Well mayest thou this day call thyself fortunate above all on
earth, O Dulcinea del Toboso, fairest of the fair! since it has fallen
to thy lot to hold subject and submissive to thy full will and
pleasure a knight so renowned as is and will be Don Quixote of La
Mancha, who, as all the world knows, yesterday received the order of
knighthood, and hath to-day righted the greatest wrong and grievance
that ever injustice conceived and cruelty perpetrated: who hath to-day
plucked the rod from the hand of yonder ruthless oppressor so wantonly
lashing that tender child."
�]��H��ڤ��R��ꬰ�aģ�A�S�@��ʡ^

��L�٬O��ֶi��A�]��ڻ��O�L�H�M�p�N��z�z��۫�ӥN��F�C(8,p.51)

��i�O�ڹ��L�M�h��@�ΨƱ��S�Oı�o��A�N�O�{��L�̭n�h�q�ƨ��ؤ@�g��Ĳ�N�O�ʩR��j�_
�I�ɡA�L��`�ѰO�F�V�W�ҥ��i�A�o�n�V�L�̪��H��i�A�ӥB�@�ð@�ۡA�ϩ��o�̴N�O�L�̪��W�Ҥ@��A�o
�b�ڬݰ_�Ӧ��ܿ@�p��Ю��C(13, p.85)

��"So, so!" said Sancho; "Lorenzo Corchuelo's daughter is the lady
Dulcinea del Toboso, otherwise called Aldonza Lorenzo?"

"She it is," said Don Quixote, "and she it is that is worthy to be
lady of the whole universe."

"I know her well," said Sancho, "and let me tell you she can fling a
crowbar as well as the lustiest lad in all the town. Giver of all
good! but she is a brave lass, and a right and stout one, and fit to
be helpmate to any knight-errant that is or is to be, who may make her
his lady: the whoreson wench, what sting she has and what a voice! I
can tell you one day she posted herself on the top of the belfry of
the village to call some labourers of theirs that were in a ploughed
field of her father's, and though they were better than half a
league off they heard her as well as if they were at the foot of the
tower; and the best of her is that she is not a bit prudish, for she
has plenty of affability, and jokes with everybody, and has a grin and
a jest for everything. (25, p.208)�]��Dulcinea del Toboso�O�P�m��ʧ��k�^

��"DON QUIXOTE'S LETTER TO DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO

"Sovereign and exalted Lady,- The pierced by the point of absence,
the wounded to the heart's core, sends thee, sweetest Dulcinea del
Toboso, the health that he himself enjoys not. If thy beauty
despises me, if thy worth is not for me, if thy scorn is my
affliction, though I be sufficiently long-suffering, hardly shall I
endure this anxiety, which, besides being oppressive, is protracted.
My good squire Sancho will relate to thee in full, fair ingrate,
dear enemy, the condition to which I am reduced on thy account: if
it be thy pleasure to give me relief, I am thine; if not, do as may be
pleasing to thee; for by ending my life I shall satisfy thy cruelty
and my desire.

"Thine till death,

"The Knight of the Rueful Countenance."
(25, p.211)�]��Dulcinea del Toboso��ѡ^

��A��ڶA�G�ڪ��R�B�A�o�N��F�F�]��ˬO��֧ڪ��R�B�A�ӥB�٭n�@��l��֤U�h�A�N��R�B�ϧڭȱo��
�R��Dulcinea del Toboso�o�򰪶Q��@�Ӥk�l�C(31,p.277)�]��H��ʬ��a�^

��u�ڭ��M�h�^�̪��N�O�o�˪��A�@�Ӥk�l��F�\�h��L�M�h�A�N�O�o��a�A�F��Ǵ�L�M�h��O�欰�A
�ͦo�ӪA�ͦo��A�L�̨çƹϥ��󪺹S��A�u�n��b�L��U��M�h��R�@�ӼơA�N�O��j��a��F�C�v
Sancho��G�u�ڤ]ť��v��L�A�W�Ҥ]�o�n�o�طR�k�A�N�O�欰�R�L�ӷR�L�A��ର�Ʊ�S��ߩȦD�@��
�߫�ҰʡC�v(31, p.281)�]��R��W�O�@�ثH��^

��If, then, the mine of her honour, beauty,
virtue, and modesty yields thee without labour all the wealth it
contains and thou canst wish for, why wilt thou dig the earth in
search of fresh veins, of new unknown treasure, risking the collapse
of all, since it but rests on the feeble props of her weak nature?
Bethink thee that from him who seeks impossibilities that which is
possible may with justice be withheld, as was better expressed by a
poet who said:
'Tis mine to seek for life in death,
Health in disease seek I,I seek in prison freedom's breath,
In traitors loyalty.
So Fate that ever scorns to grant
Or grace or boon to me,Since what can never be I want,
Denies me what might be.(33, p.308-9)�]��e�H/�G�ҩʡ^

��In short he felt that while
Anselmo's absence afforded time and opportunity he must press the
siege of the fortress, and so he assailed her self-esteem with praises
of her beauty, for ��there is nothing that more quickly reduces and
levels the castle towers of fair women's vanity than vanity itself
upon the tongue of flattery. In fact with the utmost assiduity he
undermined the rock of her purity with such engines that had Camilla
been of brass she must have fallen. He wept, he entreated, he
promised, he flattered, he importuned, he pretended with so much
feeling and apparent sincerity, that he overthrew the virtuous
resolves of Camilla and won the triumph he least expected and most
longed for. Camilla yielded, Camilla fell; but what wonder if the
friendship of Lothario could not stand firm? A clear proof to us
that ��the passion of love is to be conquered only by flying from it,
and that no one should engage in a struggle with an enemy so mighty;
for divine strength is needed to overcome his human power.
(34, p.313)�]��a��۳n�Ƥk�H��a�^

�󡹡��H�r��׷R�H��G
This, then,
being the case, let not these scrupulous and prudish ideas trouble
your imagination, but be assured that Lothario prizes you as you do
him, and rest content and satisfied that as you are caught in the
noose of love it is one of worth and merit that has taken you, and one
that has not only ��the four S's
(Sabio, Solo, Solicito, Secreto ��B�t��B��B��K�^
that they say true lovers ought to
have, but a complete alphabet; only listen to me and you will see
how I can repeat it by rote. He is to my eyes and thinking, ��Amiable,
Brave, Courteous, Distinguished, Elegant, Fond, Gay, Honourable,
Illustrious, Loyal, Manly, Noble, Open, Polite, Quickwitted, Rich, and
the S's according to the saying, and then Tender, Veracious: X does
not suit him, for it is a rough letter; Y has been given already;
and Z Zealous for your honour."(34,p.p.319)�]��½Ķ��P��^

��At these signals and voice Don Quixote turned his head and saw by
the light of the moon, which then was in its full splendour, that some
one was calling to him from the hole in the wall, which seemed to
him to be a window, and what is more, with a gilt grating, as rich
castles, such as he believed the inn to be, ought to have; and it
immediately suggested itself to�� his imagination that, as on the former
occasion, the fair damsel, the daughter of the lady of the castle,
overcome by love for him, was once more endeavouring to win his
affections; and with this idea, not to show himself discourteous, or
ungrateful, he turned Rocinante's head and approached the hole, and as
he perceived the two wenches he said:

"I pity you, beauteous lady, that you should have directed your
thoughts of love to a quarter from whence it is impossible that such a
return can be made to you as is due to your great merit and gentle
birth, for which you must not blame this unhappy knight-errant whom
love renders incapable of submission to any other than her whom, the
first moment his eyes beheld her, he made absolute mistress of his
soul. Forgive me, noble lady, and retire to your apartment, and do
not, by any further declaration of your passion, compel me to show
myself more ungrateful; and if, of the love you bear me, you should
find that there is anything else in my power wherein I can gratify
you, provided it be not love itself, demand it of me; for I swear to
you by that sweet absent enemy of mine to grant it this instant,
though it be that you require of me ��a lock of Medusa's hair, which was
all snakes, or even ��the very beams of the sun shut up in a vial."
(43, p.418)�]��A�׹�k�H��_��ʪ��۷Q�^

��M�h

��Z�˴N�O�ڪ��˹��A�԰��N�O�ڪ��𮧡C(2, p.11)

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��\�h�ީ}�L�@�N�h��A�\�h�D�k��ƭn�B��A�\�h��u�n��}�A�\�h�Űȭn�M�z�I(2, p.8)�]��D�`��
�^

��Quixote��͹F��L�@�Ӥl��]�S�a�A�]��L�b��L�M�h��v�̡A�q�ӨS�ݨ�L�̱a�L��C(3,p.16)

��Z�O��L�M�h�A�L�ץL�̦��b��ȩ��̡A�O�q�Ӥ��γo�O�O��...(17,p.122)

��Don Quixote asked Sancho what had
induced him to call him the "Knight of the Rueful Countenance"
�]�T�e/�ѫ��M�h�^ more then than at any other time.
.....
"It is not that," replied Don Quixote, "but because the sage whose
duty it will be to write the history of my achievements must have
thought it proper that I should take some distinctive name as all
knights of yore did; one being 'He of the Burning Sword,' another
'He of the Unicorn,' this one 'He of the Damsels�]�֤k�^,' that 'He of the
Phoenix,' another 'The Knight of the Griffin�]�N�Y�ਭ�^,' and another 'He of
the Death,' and by these names and designations they were known all
the world round; and so I say that the sage aforesaid must have put it
into your mouth and mind just now to call me 'The Knight of the Rueful
Countenance,' as I intend to call myself from this day forward; and
that the said name may fit me better, I mean, when the opportunity
offers, to have a very rueful countenance painted on my shield."
(19, p.141-2)�]��M�h��Y�Ρ^

��Ū�L��M�h�ѼƤ]�Ƥ��ɡA�i�q�ӨS��L��Өͱq��L��D�H��A�o��h�ܡC(20,p.154)

�󡹡��M�h�p��зǱ��`��(21, p.161-3)

"Thou speakest not amiss, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "but before
that point is reached it is requisite to roam the world, as it were on
probation, seeking adventures, in order that, by achieving some,
name and fame may be acquired, such that when he betakes himself to
the court of some great monarch the knight may be already known by his
deeds, and that the boys, the instant they see him enter the gate of
the city, may all follow him and surround him, crying, 'This is the
Knight of the Sun'-or the Serpent, or any other title under which he
may have achieved great deeds. 'This,' they will say, 'is he who
vanquished in single combat the gigantic Brocabruno of mighty
strength; he who delivered the great Mameluke of Persia out of the
long enchantment under which he had been for almost nine hundred
years.' So from one to another they will go proclaiming his
achievements; and presently at the tumult of the boys and the others
the king of that kingdom will appear at the windows of his royal
palace, and as soon as he beholds the knight, recognising him by his
arms and the device on his shield, he will as a matter of course
say, 'What ho! Forth all ye, the knights of my court, to receive the
flower of chivalry who cometh hither!' At which command all will issue
forth, and he himself, advancing half-way down the stairs, will
embrace him closely, and salute him, kissing him on the cheek, and
will then lead him to the queen's chamber, where the knight will
find her with the princess her daughter, who will be one of the most
beautiful and accomplished damsels that could with the utmost pains be
discovered anywhere in the known world. Straightway it will come to
pass that she will fix her eyes upon the knight and he his upon her,
and each will seem to the other something more divine than human, and,
without knowing how or why they will be taken and entangled in the
inextricable toils of love, and sorely distressed in their hearts
not to see any way of making their pains and sufferings known by
speech. Thence they will lead him, no doubt, to some richly adorned
chamber of the palace, where, having removed his armour, they will
bring him a rich mantle of scarlet wherewith to robe himself, and if
he looked noble in his armour he will look still more so in a doublet.
When night comes he will sup with the king, queen, and princess; and
all the time he will never take his eyes off her, stealing stealthy
glances, unnoticed by those present, and she will do the same, and
with equal cautiousness, being, as I have said, a damsel of great
discretion. The tables being removed, suddenly through the door of the
hall there will enter a hideous and diminutive dwarf followed by a
fair dame, between two giants, who comes with a certain adventure, the
work of an ancient sage; and he who shall achieve it shall be deemed
the best knight in the world.

"The king will then command all those present to essay it, and
none will bring it to an end and conclusion save the stranger
knight, to the great enhancement of his fame, whereat the princess
will be overjoyed and will esteem herself happy and fortunate in
having fixed and placed her thoughts so high. And the best of it is
that this king, or prince, or whatever he is, is engaged in a very
bitter war with another as powerful as himself, and the stranger
knight, after having been some days at his court, requests leave
from him to go and serve him in the said war. The king will grant it
very readily, and the knight will courteously kiss his hands for the
favour done to him; and that night he will take leave of his lady
the princess at the grating of the chamber where she sleeps, which
looks upon a garden, and at which he has already many times
conversed with her, the go-between and confidante in the matter
being a damsel much trusted by the princess. He will sigh, she will
swoon, the damsel will fetch water, much distressed because morning
approaches, and for the honour of her lady he would not that they were
discovered; at last the princess will come to herself and will present
her white hands through the grating to the knight, who will kiss
them a thousand and a thousand times, bathing them with his tears.
It will be arranged between them how they are to inform each other
of their good or evil fortunes, and the princess will entreat him to
make his absence as short as possible, which he will promise to do
with many oaths; once more he kisses her hands, and takes his leave in
such grief that he is well-nigh ready to die. He betakes him thence to
his chamber, flings himself on his bed, cannot sleep for sorrow at
parting, rises early in the morning, goes to take leave of the king,
queen, and princess, and, as he takes his leave of the pair, it is
told him that the princess is indisposed and cannot receive a visit;
the knight thinks it is from grief at his departure, his heart is
pierced, and he is hardly able to keep from showing his pain. The
confidante is present, observes all, goes to tell her mistress, who
listens with tears and says that one of her greatest distresses is not
knowing who this knight is, and whether he is of kingly lineage or
not; the damsel assures her that so much courtesy, gentleness, and
gallantry of bearing as her knight possesses could not exist in any
save one who was royal and illustrious; her anxiety is thus
relieved, and she strives to be of good cheer lest she should excite
suspicion in her parents, and at the end of two days she appears in
public. Meanwhile the knight has taken his departure; he fights in the
war, conquers the king's enemy, wins many cities, triumphs in many
battles, returns to the court, sees his lady where he was wont to
see her, and it is agreed that he shall demand her in marriage of
her parents as the reward of his services; the king is unwilling to
give her, as he knows not who he is, but nevertheless, whether carried
off or in whatever other way it may be, the princess comes to be his
bride, and her father comes to regard it as very good fortune; for
it so happens that this knight is proved to be the son of a valiant
king of some kingdom, I know not what, for I fancy it is not likely to
be on the map. The father dies, the princess inherits, and in two
words the knight becomes king. And here comes in at once the
bestowal of rewards upon his squire and all who have aided him in
rising to so exalted a rank. He marries his squire to a damsel of
the princess's, who will be, no doubt, the one who was confidante in
their amour, and is daughter of a very great duke."

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�C(32, p.290)

��q�ƪZ��̪��ت��N�O�M��C(37, p.356)

��ڽT�H�A��o��Ī��H�A�{�b�b�a��̾D��C�]��a�o��A�@�ө��Ө��H��M�i�H�ܥh�̳̫i
��M�h��ʩR....�C(38, p.361)

Happy the blest ages that knew not the dread fury of those
devilish engines of artillery, whose inventor I am persuaded is in
hell receiving the reward of his diabolical invention, by which he
made it easy for a base and cowardly arm to take the life of a gallant
gentleman; and that, when he knows not how or whence, in the height of
the ardour and enthusiasm that fire and animate brave hearts, there
should come some random bullet, discharged perhaps by one who fled
in terror at the flash when he fired off his accursed machine, which
in an instant puts an end to the projects and cuts off the life of one
who deserved to live for ages to come. And thus when I reflect on
this, I am almost tempted to say that in my heart I repent of having
adopted this profession of knight-errant in so detestable an age as we
live in now; for though no peril can make me fear, still it gives me
some uneasiness to think that powder and lead may rob me of the
opportunity of making myself famous and renowned throughout the
known earth by the might of my arm and the edge of my sword. But
Heaven's will be done; if I succeed in my attempt I shall be all the
more honoured, as I have faced greater dangers than the knights-errant
of yore exposed themselves to."(38, p.361)
�]��M�h�ɥN��G��o��^

��on Quixote smiled when he heard these words, and said very
calmly, "Come now, base, ill-born brood; call ye it highway robbery to
give freedom to those in bondage, to release the captives, to
succour the miserable, to raise up the fallen, to relieve the needy?
Infamous beings, who by your vile grovelling intellects deserve that
heaven should not make known to you the virtue that lies in
knight-errantry, or show you the sin and ignorance in which ye lie
when ye refuse to respect the shadow, not to say the presence, of
any knight-errant! Come now; band, not of officers, but of thieves;
��footpads�]�j�s�^with the licence of the Holy Brotherhood; tell me who was the
ignoramus who signed a warrant of arrest against such a knight as I
am? Who was he that did not know that knights-errant are independent
of all jurisdictions, that their law is their sword, their charter
their prowess, and their edicts their will? Who, I say again, was
the fool that knows not that there are no letters patent of nobility
that confer such privileges or exemptions as a knight-errant
acquires the day he is dubbed a knight, and devotes himself to the
arduous calling of chivalry? What knight-errant ever paid poll-tax,
duty, queen's pin-money, king's dues, toll or ferry? What tailor
ever took payment of him for making his clothes? What castellan that
received him in his castle ever made him pay his shot? What king did
not seat him at his table? What damsel was not enamoured of him and
did not yield herself up wholly to his will and pleasure? And, lastly,
what knight-errant has there been, is there, or will there ever be
in the world, not bold enough to give, single-handed, four hundred
cudgellings to four hundred officers of the Holy Brotherhood if they
come in his way?"(45, p.436)�]��Q�e��ҵ��F��~�N��̫��G�^

��"I bring nothing of that sort, wife," said Sancho; "though I bring
other things of more consequence and value."....
"Honey is not for the mouth of the ass," returned Sancho; "all in
good time thou shalt see, wife- nay, thou wilt be surprised to hear
thyself called 'your ladyship' by all thy vassals."....
But
I may tell you this much by the way, that there is nothing in the
world more delightful than to be a person of consideration, squire
to a knight-errant, and a seeker of adventures. To be sure most of
those one finds do not end as pleasantly as one could wish, for out of
a hundred, ninety-nine will turn out cross and contrary. I know it
by experience, for out of some I came blanketed, and out of others
belaboured. Still, for all that, ��it is a fine thing to be on the
look-out for what may happen, crossing mountains, searching woods,
climbing rocks, visiting castles, putting up at inns, all at free
quarters, and devil take the maravedi to pay."
�]��Sancho��ì�G�u�_�I�v�Y�Ȧ�A�O�H�ͳ̤j�֨ơ^

��M�h�G�ƨg

��This conversation dropped, and another was commenced by him who
was called Vivaldo asking Don Quixote what was the reason that led him
to go armed in that fashion in a country so peaceful. To which Don
Quixote replied, "The pursuit of my calling does not allow or permit
me to go in any other fashion; easy life, enjoyment, and repose were
invented for soft courtiers, but toil, unrest, and arms were
invented and made for those alone whom the world calls knights-errant,
of whom I, though unworthy, am the least of all."

The instant they heard this all set him down as mad, and the
better to settle the point and discover what kind of madness his
was, Vivaldo proceeded to ask him what knights-errant meant.
�]��W�_�w�L�ƤF�^(13, p.83)

��This strange stillness, and the thoughts, always
present to our knight's mind, of the incidents described at every turn
in the books that were the cause of his misfortune, conjured up to his
imagination as extraordinary a delusion as can well be conceived,
which was that he fancied himself to have reached a famous castle
(for, as has been said, all the inns he lodged in were castles to
his eyes), and that the daughter of the innkeeper was daughter of
the lord of the castle, and that she, won by his high-bred bearing,
had fallen in love with him, and had promised to come to his bed for a
while that night without the knowledge of her parents; and holding all
this fantasy that he had constructed as solid fact, he began to feel
uneasy and to consider the perilous risk which his virtue was about to
encounter, and he resolved in his heart to commit no treason to his
lady Dulcinea del Toboso, even though the queen Guinevere herself
and the dame Quintanona should present themselves before him.

While he was taken up with these vagaries, then, the time and the
hour- an unlucky one for him- arrived for the Asturian to come, who in
her smock, with bare feet and her hair gathered into a fustian coif,
with noiseless and cautious steps entered the chamber where the
three were quartered, in quest of the carrier; but scarcely had she
gained the door when Don Quixote perceived her, and sitting up in
his bed in spite of his plasters and the pain of his ribs, he
stretched out his arms to receive his beauteous damsel. The
Asturian, who went all doubled up and in silence with her hands before
her feeling for her lover, encountered the arms of Don Quixote, who
grasped her tightly by the wrist, and drawing her towards him, while
she dared not utter a word, made her sit down on the bed. He then felt
her smock, and although it was of sackcloth it appeared to him to be
of the finest and softest silk: on her wrists she wore some glass
beads, but to him they had the sheen of precious Orient pearls: her
hair, which in some measure resembled a horse's mane, he rated as
threads of the brightest gold of Araby, whose refulgence dimmed the
sun himself: her breath, which no doubt smelt of yesterday's stale
salad, seemed to him to diffuse a sweet aromatic fragrance from her
mouth; and, in short, he drew her portrait in his imagination with the
same features and in the same style as that which he had seen in his
books of the other princesses who, smitten by love, came with all
the adornments that are here set down, to see the sorely wounded
knight; and so great was the poor gentleman's blindness that neither
touch, nor smell, nor anything else about the good lass that would
have made any but a carrier vomit, were enough to undeceive him; on
the contrary, he was persuaded he had the goddess of beauty in his
arms, and holding her firmly in his grasp he went on to say in low,
tender voice:(16, p.114-5)�]��୮��@��D�^

��M�h�p��G��P

��I have never yet
seen any book of chivalry that puts together a connected plot complete
in all its numbers, so that the middle agrees with the beginning,
and the end with the beginning and middle; on the contrary, they
construct them with such a multitude of members that it seems as
though they meant to produce a chimera or monster rather than a
well-proportioned figure. And besides all this they are harsh in their
style, incredible in their achievements, licentious in their amours,
uncouth in their courtly speeches, prolix in their battles, silly in
their arguments, absurd in their travels, and, in short, wanting in
everything like intelligent art; for which reason they deserve to be
banished from the Christian commonwealth as a worthless breed.
(47,p.451)�]�D�й��ɤU�p��ޥ��W��^

��]��U�@�઺�T��d�@�Χ@Argensola�ҧ@�^��f�ä��b�H�̳��w�ݯ��ժ��F��A�Ӧb��t�s�̤��s�t��n
��....�C(48, p.454)�]��ɤU�p��ޥ��W��^

��And if the same or some other person
were authorised to examine the newly written books of chivalry, no
doubt some would appear with all the perfections you have described,
enriching our language with the gracious and precious treasure of
eloquence, and ��driving the old books into obscurity before the light
of the new ones that would come out for the harmless entertainment,
not merely of the idle but of the very busiest; ��for the bow cannot
be always bent, nor can weak human nature exist without some lawful
amusement.(48, p.457)
�]��@�̫�ĳ�]�߼f�֨�סA�ƦܥH�Χ@��N�µۡA��۬��z�Q�G�H�]��A�۷Q��n��T�֡C�^

��take my advice, sir, and, as I said
before, read these books and you will see how they will banish any
melancholy you may feel and raise your spirits should they be
depressed. For myself I can say that since I have been a knight-errant
I have ��become valiant, polite, generous, well-bred, magnanimous,
courteous, dauntless, gentle, patient, and have learned to bear
hardships, imprisonments, and enchantments; and though it be such a
short time since I have seen myself shut up in a cage like a madman, I
hope by the might of my arm, if heaven aid me and fortune thwart me
not, to see myself king of some kingdom where I may be able to show
the gratitude and generosity that dwell in my heart; for by my
faith, senor, the poor man is incapacitated from showing the virtue of
generosity to anyone, though he may possess it in the highest
degree; and ��gratitude that consists of disposition only is a dead
thing, just as faith without works is dead. For this reason I should
be glad were fortune soon to offer me some opportunity of making
myself an emperor, so as to show my heart in doing good to my friends,
particularly to this poor Sancho Panza, my squire, who is the best
fellow in the world; and I would gladly give him a county I have
promised him this ever so long, only that I am afraid he has not the
capacity to govern his realm."(50, p.470)
�]��M�h�믫�b��غج��w��Īk�B�i��P��^

��

��N�ӧڳo�f�ۦW�\�~��H�v�@��Q�o�{�A��ץv��H�ԭz��ڳo�Ĥ@��M��X��ɡA��`��~�o
�ˡG�u��⪺Phoebus��L��v��}�b�B�o�e��Ӫ��m��j�a��....�v(2,p.9)

Thus setting out, our new-fledged adventurer paced along, talking to
himself and saying, "Who knows but that in time to come, when the
veracious history of my famous deeds is made known, the sage who
writes it, when he has to set forth my first sally in the early
morning, will do it after this fashion? '��Scarce had the rubicund
Apollo spread o'er the face of the broad spacious earth the golden
threads of his bright hair, scarce had the little birds of painted
plumage attuned their notes to hail with dulcet and mellifluous
harmony the coming of the rosy Dawn, that, deserting the soft couch of
her jealous spouse, was appearing to mortals at the gates and
balconies of the Manchegan horizon, when the renowned knight Don
Quixote of La Mancha, quitting the lazy down, mounted his celebrated
steed Rocinante and began to traverse the ancient and famous Campo
de Montiel;(2,p.9)

��GARGAMASILLA�ѾǤh��Quixote�B��HDulcineae�B�y��Rocinante�B�ͱqSancho�Ұ��ӻx�ʡG

THE ACADEMICIANS OF
ARGAMASILLA, A VILLAGE OF
LA MANCHA,
ON THE LIFE AND DEATH
OF DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA,
HOC SCRIPSERUNT
MONICONGO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,

ON THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTE

EPITAPH

The scatterbrain that gave La Mancha more
Rich spoils than Jason's; who a point so keen
Had to his wit, and happier far had been
If his wit's weathercock a blunter bore;
The arm renowned far as Gaeta's shore,
Cathay, and all the lands that lie between;
The muse discreet and terrible in mien
As ever wrote on brass in days of yore;
He who surpassed the Amadises all,
And who as naught the Galaors accounted,
Supported by his love and gallantry:
Who made the Belianises sing small,
And sought renown on Rocinante mounted;
Here, underneath this cold stone, doth he lie.
�]��i�i�š^

PANIAGUADO,
ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
IN LAUDEM DULCINEAE DEL TOBOSO

SONNET

She, whose full features may be here descried,
High-bosomed, with a bearing of disdain,
Is Dulcinea, she for whom in vain
The great Don Quixote of La Mancha sighed.
For her, Toboso's queen, from side to side
He traversed the grim sierra, the champaign
Of Aranjuez, and Montiel's famous plain:
On Rocinante oft a weary ride.
Malignant planets, cruel destiny,
Pursued them both, the fair Manchegan dame,
And the unconquered star of chivalry.
Nor youth nor beauty saved her from the claim
Of death; he paid love's bitter penalty,
And left the marble to preserve his name.
�]�]�L�d�W�^

CAPRICHOSO, A MOST ACUTE ACADEMICIAN
OF ARGAMASILLA, IN PRAISE OF ROCINANTE,
STEED OF DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA

SONNET

On that proud throne of diamantine sheen,
Which the blood-reeking feet of Mars degrade,
The mad Manchegan's banner now hath been
By him in all its bravery displayed.
There hath he hung his arms and trenchant blade
Wherewith, achieving deeds till now unseen,
He slays, lays low, cleaves, hews; but art hath made
A novel style for our new paladin.
If Amadis be the proud boast of Gaul,
If by his progeny the fame of Greece
Through all the regions of the earth be spread,
Great Quixote crowned in grim Bellona's hall
To-day exalts La Mancha over these,
And above Greece or Gaul she holds her head.
Nor ends his glory here, for his good steed
Doth Brillador and Bayard far exceed;
As mettled steeds compared with Rocinante,
The reputation they have won is scanty.
�]�L�P�ۤ�^

BURLADOR, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
ON SANCHO PANZA

SONNET

The worthy Sancho Panza here you see;
A great soul once was in that body small,
Nor was there squire�m�� upon this earthly ball
So plain and simple, or of guile�c�� so free.
Within an ace of being Count was he,
And would have been but for the spite and gall
Of this vile age, mean and illiberal,
That cannot even let a donkey be.
For mounted on an ass (excuse the word),
By Rocinante's side this gentle squire
Was wont his wandering master to attend.
Delusive hopes that lure the common herd
With promises of ease, the heart's desire,
In shadows, dreams, and smoke ye always end.
�]�]�ڷQ�Ӱ��j�^

CACHIDIABLO,
ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
ON THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTE
EPITAPH

The knight lies here below,
Ill-errant and bruised sore,
Whom Rocinante bore
In his wanderings to and fro.
By the side of the knight is laid
Stolid man Sancho too,
Than whom a squire more true
Was not in the esquire�߮v trade.

TIQUITOC,
ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA,
ON THE TOMB OF DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO

EPITAPH
Here Dulcinea lies.
Plump was she and robust:
Now she is ashes and dust:
The end of all flesh that dies.
A lady of high degree,
With the port of a lofty dame,
And the great Don Quixote's flame,
And the pride of her village was she.

��ߤH�ѺK
2001.8.12�\