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FROM THE LIBRARY OF
MRS. ELLEN HAVEN ROSS
OF BOSTON
RECEIVED JUNE 28, 1938


.


WIT AND WISDOM
OF
DON QUIXOTE.
Patch grief with proverbs.-SHAKESPEARE.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & CO., 443 AND 445 BROADWAY.
1867.


PREFACE.
As the priest, the friend of Don Quixote, when
endeavoring to cure the mental malady of the
knight (as he thought it) by destroying all his
books of chivalry, in now and then saving one
from condemnation, said of one of the contributors
to the “ Mirror of Chivalry : ” “If I find him here
speaking in any other language than his own, I
will show him no respect; but if he talks in his
own tongue, I will place him on my head in token
of regard.”
“I have got him at home,” said the barber,
“ in Italian, but I don't understand that language.”
“Nor is it necessary you should,” replied the
curate. “And here let us pray Heaven to forgive
the captain, who has impoverished him so much,
by translating him into Spanish, and making him
a Castilian. And, indeed, the same thing will


PREFACE. V
it came, and if this was not from books but from
life, an indication of the name, the rank, and the
condition in life of the person from whom it was
derived. According to Trench, having a right to
take Cervantes as the truest exponent of the Span-
ish character, "We should be prepared to trace in
the proverbs of Spain a grave thoughtfulness, a
stately humor; to find them breathing the very
spirit of chivalry and honor, and indeed of freedom
too."





WIT AND WISDOM
OF
DON QUIXOTE.
Down in a village of La Mancha, the name of
which I have no desire to recollect, there lived, not
long ago, one of those gentlemen who usually keep
a lance upon a rack, an old buckler, a lean horse,
and a coursing greyhound. Soup, composed of
somewhat more mutton than beef, the fragments
served up cold on most nights, lentils on Fridays,
pains and breakings on Saturdays, and a pigeon, by
way of addition, on Sundays, consumed three-fourths
of his income; the remainder of it supplied him
with a cloak of fine cloth, velvet breeches, with
slippers of the same for holidays, and a suit of the
best homespun, in which he adorned himself on
week-days. His family consisted of a housekeeper
above forty, a niece not quite twenty, and a lad
who served him both in the field and at home, who
could saddle the horse or handle the pruning-hook.
'


2 WIT AND WISDOM
The age of our gentleman bordered upon fifty
years; he was of a strong constitution, spare-bodied,
of a meagre visage, a very early riser, and a lover
of the chase. Some pretend to say that his surname
was Quixada, or Quesada, for on this point his his-
torians differ; though, from very probable conjec-
tures, we may conclude that his name was Quixana.
This is, however, of little importance to our his-
tory; let it suffice that, in relating it, we do not
swerve a jot from the truth.
In fine, his judgment being completely obscured,
he was seized with one of the strangest fancies that
ever entered the head of any madman: this was,
a belief that it behooved him, as well for the advance-
ment of his glory as the service of his country, to
become a knight-errant, and traverse the world,
armed and mounted, in quest of adventures, and to
practise all that had been performed by knights-
errant, of whom he had read; redressing every
species of grievance, and exposing himself to dan-
gers which, being surmounted, might secure to him
eternal glory and renown. The poor gentleman
imagined himself at least crowned emperor of Treb-
isond, by the valor of his arm; and thus wrapped
in these agreeable delusions, and borne away by the
extraordinary pleasure he found in them, he hast-
ened to put his designs into execution.
The first thing he did was to scour up some
rusty armor, which had been his great-grandfather's,
and had lain many years neglected in a corner.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 3
This he cleaned and adjusted as well as he could,
but he found one grand defect; the helmet was in-
complete, having only the morion; this deficiency,
however, he ingeniously supplied, by making a kind
of visor of pasteboard, which, being fixed to the
morion, gave the appearance of an entire helmet.
It is true indeed that, in order to prove its strength,
he drew his sword, and gave it two strokes, the first
of which instantly demolished the labor of a week;
but not altogether approving of the facility with
which it was destroyed, and in order to secure him-
self against a similar misfortune, he made another
visor, which, having fenced in the inside with small
bars of iron, he felt assured of its strength, and,
without making any more experiments, held it to
be a most excellent helmet.
In the next place he visited his steed; and al-
though this animal had more blemishes than the
horse of Gonela, which "tantum pellis et ossa fuit,"
yet, in his eyes, neither the Bucephalus of Alexan-
der, nor the Cid's Babieca, could be compared with
him. Four days was he deliberating upon what
name he should give him; for, as he said to him-
self, it would be very improper that a horse so ex-
cellent, appertaining to a knight so famous, should
be without an appropriate name; he therefore en-
deavored to find one that should express what he
had been before he belonged to a knight-errant, and
also what he now was: nothing could, indeed, be
more reasonable than that, when the master changed


OF DON QUIXOTE. 5
names, he found nothing wanting but a lady to be
in love with, as he said—
A knight-errant without a mistress was a tree
without either fruit or leaves, and a body without a
soul!
In the mean time Don Quixote tampered with a
laborer, a neighbor of his, and an honest man (if
such an epithet can be given to one that is poor),
but shallow-brained ; in short, he said so much, used
so many arguments, and made so many promises,
that the poor fellow resolved to sally out with him
and serve him in the capacity of a squire. Among
other things, Don Quixote told him that he ought
to be very glad to accompany him, for such an ad-
venture might some time or the other occur, that by
one stroke an island might be won, where he might
leave him governor. With this and other promises,
Sancho Panza (for that was the laborer's name) left
his wife and children, and engaged himself as squire
to his neighbor. ,
Modesty well becomes beauty, and excessive
laughter proceeding from slight cause is folly.
Keep your mouth shut, and your eyes open.
The brave man carves out his own fortune.
u Where art thou, mistress of my heart,
Unconscious of thy lover's smart?


0 WIT AND WISDOM
Ah me! thou know'st not my distress,
Or thou art false and pitiless."
"If I find him here uttering any other language
than his own, I will show no respect; but if he
speaks in his own tongue, I will put him upon my
head."
"I have him in Italian," said the barber, "but
1 do not understand him."
"Neither is it any great matter, whether you
understand him or not," answered the priest; "and
we would willingly have excused the good captain
from bringing him into Spain and making him a
Castilian; for he has deprived him of a great deal
of his native value; which, indeed, is the misfor-
tune of all those who undertake the translation of
poetry into other languages; for, with all their care
and skill, they can never bring them on a level with
the original production."
"The devil lurks behind the cross."
"There cannot be too much of a good thing."
"What is lost to-day may be won to-morrow."
"A saint may sometimes suffer for a sinner."
"Many go out for wool and return shorn."
Matters of war are most subject to continual
change.


8 WIT AND WISDOM
cent abundance, their delicious and transparent
waters. In the clefts of rocks, and in hollow trees,
the industrious and provident bees formed their
commonwealths, offering to every hand, without
interest, the fertile produce of their most delicious
toil. The stately cork-trees, impelled by their own
courtesy alone, divested themselves of their light
and expanded bark, with which men began to cover
their houses, supported by rough poles, only as a de-
fence against the inclemency of the heavens. All
then was peace, all amity, all concord. The heavy
colter of the crooked plough had not yet dared to
force open and search into the tender bowels of our
first mother, who, unconstrained, offered, from
every part of her fertile and spacious bosom, what-
ever might feed, sustain, and delight those, her chil-
dren, by whom she was then possessed."
ANTONIO.
Yes, lovely nymph, thou art my prize;
I boast the conquest of thy heart,
Though nor the tongue, nor speaking eyes,
Have yet revealed the latent smart.
Thy wit and sense assure my fate,
In them my love's success I see;
Nor can he be unfortunate
Who dares avow his flame for thee.


OF DON QUIXOTE.
Yet sometimes hast thou frowned, alas !
And given my hopes a cruel shock;
Then did thy soul seem formed of brass,
Thy snowy bosom of the rock.
But in the midst of thy disdain,
Thy sharp reproaches, cold delays,
Hope from behind, to ease my pain,
The border of her robe displays.
Ah! lovely maid ! in equal scale
Weigh well thy shepherd's truth and love,
Which ne'er, but with his breath, can fail,
Which neither frowns nor smiles can move.
If love, as shepherds wont to say,
Be gentleness and courtesy,
So courteous is Olalia,
My passion will rewarded be.
And if obsequious duty paid,
The grateful heart can never move,
Mine sure, my fair, may well persuade
A due return, and claim thy love.
For, to seem pleasing in thy sight,
I dress myself with studious care,
And, in my best apparel dight,
My Sunday clothes on Monday wear.
And shepherds say I'm not to blame ;
For cleanly dress and spruce attire


OF DON QUIXOTE. I]
The church hath silken cords, that tie
Consenting hearts in mutual bands:
If thou, my fair, its yoke will try,
Thy swain its ready captive stands.
If not, by all the saints I swear
On these bleak mountains still to dwell,
Nor ever quit my toilsome care,
But for the cloister and the cell.
A clergyman must be over and above good, who
makes all his parishioners speak well of him.
Parents ought not to settle their children against
their will.
For never sure was any knight
So served by damsel, or by dame,
As Lancelot, that man of might,
When he at first from Britain came.
The soldier who executes his captain's com-
mand is no less valuable than the captain who
gave the order.
* One swallow does not make a summer.
It is neither just nor wise to fulfil the will of
him who commands what is utterly unreasonable.
Showing also his familiarity with jEsop.


12 WIT AND WISDOM
CHRYSOSTOM'S SONG.
I.
Since, cruel maid, you force me to proclaim
From clime to clime the triumph of your scorn,
Let hell itself inspire my tortured breast
With mournful numbers, and untune my voice;
Whilst the sad pieces of my broken heart
Mix with the doleful accents of my tongue,
At once to tell my griefs and thy exploits.
Hear, then, and listen with attentive ear—
Not to harmonious sounds, but echoing groans,
Fetched from the bottom of my lab'ring breast,
To ease, in spite of thee, my raging smart.
ii.
The lion's roar, the howl of midnight wolves,
The scaly serpent's hiss, the raven's croak,
The burst of fighting winds that vex the main,
The widowed owl and turtle's plaintive moan,
With all the din of hell's infernal crew,
From my grieved soul forth issue in one sound—
Leaving my senses all confused and lost.
For ah! no common language can express
The cruel pains that torture my sad heart.
m.
Yet let not Echo bear the mournful sounds
To where old Tagus rolls his yellow sands,
Or Betis, crowned with olives, pours his flood


OF DON QUIXOTE. 13
But here, 'midst rocks and precipices deep,
Or to obscure and silent vales removed,
On shores by human footsteps never trod,
Where the gay sun ne'er lifts his radiant orb,
Or with the envenomed face of savage beasts
That range the howling wilderness for food,
Will I proclaim the story of my woes—
Poor privilege of grief!—while echoes hoarse
Catch the sad tale, and spread it round the world.
IV.
Disdain gives death; suspicions, true or false,
O'erturn the impatient mind: with surer stroke
Fell jealousy destroys; the pangs of absence
No lover can support; nor firmest hope
Can dissipate the dread of cold neglect;
Yet I, strange fate! though jealous, though dis-
dained,
Absent, and sure of cold neglect, still live.
And amidst the various torments I endure,
No ray of hope e'er darted on my soul,
Nor would I hope; rather in deep despair
Will I sit down, and, brooding o'er my griefs,
Vow everlasting absence from her sight.
Can hope and fear at once the soul possess,
Or hope subsist with surer cause of fear?
Shall I, to shut out frightful jealousy,
Close my sad eyes, when every pang I feel
'


14 WIT AND WISDOM
Presents the hideous phantom to my view?
What wretch so credulous but must embrace
Distrust with open arms, when he beholds
Disdain avowed, suspicions realized,
And truth itself converted to a lie?
Oh, cruel tyrant of the realm of love,
Fierce Jealousy, arm with a sword this hand,
Or thou, Disdain, a twisted cord bestow!
VI.
Let me not blame my fate; but, dying, think
The man most blest who loves, the soul most free
That love has most enthralled. Still to my thoughts
Let fancy paint the tyrant of my heart
Beauteous in mind as face, and in myself
Still let me find the source of her disdain
Content to suffer, since imperial Love
By lover's woes maintains his sovereign state.
With this persuasion, and the fatal noose,
I hasten to the doom her scorn demands,
And, dying, offer up my breathless corse,
Uncrowned with garlands, to the whistling winds.
VII.
Oh thou, whose unrelenting rigor's force
First drove me to despair, and now to death;
When the sad tale of my untimely fall
Shall reach thy ear, though it deserve a sigh,
Veil not the heaven of those bright eyes in grief,
Nor drop one pitying tear, to tell the world


OF DON QUIXOTE. I5
At length my death has triumphed o'er thy scorn:
But dress thy face in smiles, and celebrate
With laughter and each circumstance of joy
The festival of my disastrous end.
Ah! need I bid thee smile? too well I know
My death's thy utmost glory and thy pride.
VIII.
Come, all ye phantoms of the dark abyss:
Bring, Tantalus, thy unextinguished thirst,
And Sisyphus, thy still returning stone;
Come Tityus, with the vulture at thy heart;
And thou, Ixion, bring thy giddy wheel;
Nor let the toiling sisters stay behind.
Pour your united griefs into this breast,
And in low murmurs sing sad obsequies
(If a despairing wretch such rites may claim)
O'er my cold limbs, denied a winding-sheet.
And let the triple porter of the shades,
The sister furies and chimeras dire,
With notes of woe the mournful chorus join.
Such funeral pomp alone befits the wretch
By beauty sent untimely to the grave.
IX.
And thou, my song, sad child of my despair,
Complain no more; but since thy wretched fate
Improves her happier lot who gave thee birth,
Be all thy sorrows buried in my tomb.


16 WIT AND WISDOM
All beauty does not inspire love; some please
the sight without captivating the affections. If all
beauties were to enamour and captivate, the hearts
of mankind would be in a continual state of per-
plexity and confusion—for beautiful objects being
infinite, the sentiments they inspire should also be
infinite.
True love cannot be divided, and must be vol-
untary and unconstrained.
The viper deserves no blame for its sting, al-
though it be mortal—because it is the gift of Na-
ture.
Beauty in a modest woman is like fire or a sharp
sword at a distance; neither doth the one burn nor
the other wound those that come not too near them.
Honor and virtue are ornaments of the soul,
without which the body, though it be really beauti-
ful, ought not to be thought so.
Let him who is deceived complain.
Let him to whom faith is broken despair.
She who loves none can make none jealous, and
sincerity ought not to pass for disdain.
The body of a wretched swain,
Killed by a cruel maid's disdain,
In this cold bed neglected lies.


18 WIT AND WISDOM
He that seeketh danger perisheth therein.
Fear hath many eyes.
Evil to him that evil seeks.
Everybody has not discretion to take things by
the right handle.
He loves thee well who makes thee weep.
Shut one door, and another will soon open.
Be brief in thy discourse, for what is prolix
cannot be pleasing.
Never stand begging for that which you have
the power to take.
A snatch from behind a bush is better than the
prayer of good men.
Customs come not altogether, neither were they
all invented at once.
Who sings in grief procures relief.
To be grateful for benefits received is the duty
of honest men—one of the sins that most offendeth
God is ingratitude.
Benefits conferred on base-minded people are
like drops of water thrown into the sea.


OF DON QUIXOTE. ig
Retreating is not running away, nor is staying
wisdom when the danger overbalances the hope ; and
it is the part of wise men to secure themselves to-
day for to-morrow, and not to venture all upon one
throw.
The wicked are always ungrateful.
Necessity urges desperate measures.
i.
Love either cruel is or blind;
Or still unequal to the cause,
Is this distemper of the mind,
That with infernal torture gnaws.
ii.
But Love's a god, and cruelty
In heavenly breasts can never dwell:
Then say by what authority
I'm doomed to feel the pains of hell?
m.
Of all my sufferings and my woe,
Is Chloe then the fatal source?
Sure ill from good can never flow,
Nor so much beauty gild a curse.


20 WIT AND WISDOM
IV.
With hopeless misery weighed down,
I'll seek for quiet in the grave;
For when the malady's unknown,
A miracle alone can save.
The devil is subtle, and lays stumbling-blocks
in our way, over which we fall without knowing
how.
In all misfortunes the greatest consolation is a
sympathizing friend.
Riches are but of little avail against the ills
inflicted by the hand of Heaven.
He that buys and denies, his own purse belies.
Till you hedge in the sky, the starlings will fly.
If a painter would be famous in his art, he must
endeavor to copy after the originals of the most ex-
cellent masters; the same rule is also applicable to
all the other arts and sciences which adorn the com-
monwealth; thus, whoever aspires to a reputation
for prudence and patience, must imitate Ulysses, in
whose person and toils Homer draws a lively pic-
ture of those qualities; so also Virgil, in the char-
acter of ./Eneas, delineates filial piety, courage, and
martial skill, being representations of not what they
really were, but of what they ought to be, in order


OF DON QUIXOTE. 21
to serve as models of virtue to succeeding genera-
tions.
The absent feel and fear every ill.
From Hell there is no retention.
One should not talk of halters in the house of
the hanged.
DON QUIXOTE'S LETTER TO DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO.
High and Sovereign Lady :—He who is
stabbed by the point of absence, and pierced by the
arrows of love, O sweetest Dulcinea del Toboso,
greets thee with wishes for that health which he en-
joys not himself. If thy beauty despise me, if thy
worth favor me not, and if thy disdain still pursue
me, although inured to suffering I shall ill support
an affliction which is not only severe but lasting.
My good squire Sancho will tell thee, O ungrateful
fair, and most beloved foe, to what a state I am re-
duced on thy account. If it be thy pleasure to re-
lieve me, I am thine; if not, do what seemeth good
to thee: for by my death I shall at once appease
thy cruelty and my own passion.
Until death thine,
The Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.


22 WIT AND WISDOM
LINES DISCOVERED ON THE BARK OF A TREE, AD-
DRESSED TO DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO.
Ye lofty trees, with spreading arms,
The pride and shelter of the plain;
Ye humble shrubs and flowery charms,
Which here in springing glory reign!
If my complaints may pity move,
Hear the sad story of my love!
While with me here you pass your hours,
Should you grow faded with my cares,
I'll bribe you with refreshing showers;
You shall be watered with my tears.
Distant, though present in idea,
I mourn my absent Dulcinea
Del Toboso.
Love's truest slave, despairing, chose
This lonely wild, this desert plain,
This silent witness of the woes
Which he, though guiltless, must sustain.
Unknowing why these pains he bears,
He groans, he raves, and he despairs.
With lingering fires love racks my soul:
In vain I grieve, in vain lament;
Like tortured fiends I weep, I howl,
And burn, yet never can repent.
Distant, though present in idea,
I mourn my absent Dulcinea
Del Toboso.


OF DON QUESOTE.
While I through bodor's thoror wars,
In search of distant glory rore,
Malignant fate my toil repars
With endless woes and bopeless lore.
Thus I on barren rocks despair,
And curse my stars, yet bless my fair.
Love, armed with snakes, has left his dart,
And now does like a fury rave;
And scourge and sting on every part,
And into madness lash his slave.
Distant, though present in idea,
I mourn my absent Dulcinea
Del Toboso.
Let every man's fate kill him, or God who
made him.
1.
Ah! what inspires my woful strain ?
Unkind disdain !
Ah! what augments my misery?
Fell jealousy!
Or, say, what hath my patience worn ?
An absent lover's scorn!
The torments then that I endure
No mortal remedy can cure;
For every languid hope is slain
By absence, jealousy, disdain!
II.
From love, my unrelenting foe,
These sorrows flow!


24 WIT AND WISDOM
My infant glory is overthrown,
By fortune's frown;
Confirmed in this my wretched state
By the decrees of fate,
In death alone, I hope release
From this compounded dire disease;
Whose cruel pangs to aggravate,
Fortune and love conspire with fate!
m.
Ah! what will mitigate my doom?
The silent tomb!
Ah! what retrieve departed joy?
Inconstancy!
Or say, can aught but frenzy bear
This tempest of despair?
All other efforts, then, are vain,
To cure this foul tormenting pain,
That owns no other remedy
Than madness, death, inconstancy.
P'riendship, thou hast with nimble flight
Exulting gained the empyreal height,
In heaven to dwell, while here below
Thy semblance reigns in mimic show;
From thence to earth, at thy behest,
Descends fair peace, celestial guest!
Beneath whose veil of shining hue
Deceit oft lurks, concealed from view.


26 WIT AND WISDOM
flagrant an injury, I may strive, if not to avenge it,
at least to end this life of pain?
For no grievance can harass or drive the afflicted
to such extremity, while life remains, as to make
them shut their ears against that counsel which is
given with the most humane and benevolent inten-
tion.
What is sudden death, to a protracted life of an-
guish?
Music lulls the disordered thoughts, and elevates
the dejected spirits.
All women, let them be never so homely, are
pleased to hear themselves celebrated for beauty.
The eyes of love or of idleness are like those
of a lynx.
One mischance invites another, and the end of
one misfortune is often the beginning of a worse.
Among friends we ought not to stand upon
trifles.
No man can command the first emotions of his
passions.
Every new fault deserves a new penance.
Where is the wonder one devil should be like
another?
^


28 WIT AND WISDOM
If from equal parts we take equal parts, those
that remain are equal.
To attempt voluntarily that which must be pro-
ductive of evil rather than good, is madness and folly.
Difficult works are undertaken for the sake of
Heaven, or of the world, or both: the first are such
as are performed by the saints, while they endeavor
to live the life of angels in their human frames;
such as are performed for love of the world are en-
countered by those who navigate the boundless
ocean, traverse different countries and various cli-
mates to acquire what are called the goods of fortune.
Those who assail hazardous enterprises for the sake
of both God and man are brave soldiers, who no
sooner perceive in the enemy's wall a breach made
by a single cannon-ball, than, regardless of danger
and full of zeal in the defence of their faith, their
country, and their king, they rush where death in
a thousand shapes awaits them. These are diffi-
culties commonly attempted, and, though perilous,
are glorious and profitable.
When Peter saw the approach of rosy morn,
His soul with sorrow and remorse was torn;
For, though from every mortal eye concealed,
The guilt to his own bosom stood revealed:
The candid breast will, self-accusing, own
Each conscious fault, though to the world unknown:
Nor will th' offender 'scape internal shame,
Though unimpeached by justice or by fame.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 20,
Expect not, therefore, by concealment, to banish
sorrow; for, even though you weep not openly, tears
of blood will flow from your heart. So wept that
simple doctor, who, according to the poet, would
venture to make a trial of the cup which the more
prudent Rinaldo wisely declined doing; and although
this be a poetical fiction, there is a concealed moral
in it worthy to be observed and followed.
There is no jewel in the world so valuable as a
chaste and virtuous woman. The honor of women
consists in the good opinion of the world; and since
that of your wife is eminently good, why would you
have it questioned? Woman, my friend, is an im-
perfect creature; and, instead of laying stumbling-
blocks in her way, we should clear the path before
her, that she may readily attain that virtue which is
essential in her. Naturalists inform us that the
ermine is a little creature with extremely white fur.
and that when the hunters are in pursuit of it, they
spread with mire all the passes leading to its haunts,
to which they then drive it, knowing that it will
submit to be taken rather than defile itself. The
virtuous and modest woman is an ermine, and her
character whiter than snow; and in order to pre-
serve it, a very different method must be taken from
that which is used with the ermine.
The reputation of a woman may also be com-
pared to a mirror of crystal, shining and bright, but
liable to be sullied by every breath that comes near
'


30 WIT AND WISDOM
it. The virtuous woman must be treated like a
relic—adored, but not handled; she should be guard-
ed and prized, like a fine flower-garden, the beauty
and fragrance of which the owner allows others to
enjoy only at a distance, and through iron rails.
i.
Woman is formed of brittle ware;
Then, wherefore rashly seek to know
What force, unbroken, she will bear,
And strike perhaps some fatal blow?
ii.
Though easily to fragments tore,
'Twere equally absurd and vain,
To dash in pieces on the floor,
What never can be joined again,
in.
This maxim, then, by facts assured,
Should henceforth be espoused by all;
Where'er a Danae lies immured,
The tempting shower of gold will fall.
The devil, when he would entrap a cautious per-
son, assumes an angel form till he carries his point,
when the cloven foot appears.
He who builds on impossibilities, should be de-
nied the privilege of any other foundation.
Hope is ever born with love.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 31
In death alone I life would find,
And health in racking pain;
Fair Honor in a traitor's mind,
Or freedom in a chain.
But since I ask what ne'er can be,
The Fates, alas! decide,
What they would else have granted me,
Shall ever be denied.
Castles should not be left without governors, nor
armies without generals.
The passion of love is to be conquered by flight
alone; it is vain to contend with a power which,
though human, requires more than human strength
to subdue.
SONNET.
In the dead silence of the peaceful night,
When others' cares are hushed in soft repose,
The sad account of my neglected woes
To conscious Heaven and Chloris I recite.
And when the sun, with his returning light,
Forth from the east his radiant journey goes,
With accents such as sorrow only knows,
My griefs to tell is all my poor delight.
And when bright PhoL-bus from his starry throne
Sends rays direct upon the parched soil,
Still in the mournful tale I persevere;
Returning night renews my sorrow's toil;
'


32 WIT AND WISDOM
And though from morn to night I weep and moan,
Nor Heaven nor Chloris my complainings hear.
Are we to take all that enamoured poets sing,
for truth?
SONNET.
Believe me, nymph, I feel th' impending blow,
And glory in the near approach of death;
For when thou see'st my corse devoid of breath,
My constancy and truth thou sure wilt know.
Welcome to me Oblivion's shade obscure!
Welcome the loss of fortune, life, and fame!
But thy loved features, and thy honored name,
Deep graven on my heart, shall still endure.
And these, as sacred relics, will I keep
Till that sad moment when to endless night
My long-tormented soul shall take her flight.
Alas for him who on the darkened deep
Floats idly, sport of the tempestuous tide,
No port to shield him, and no star to guide!
He who gives freely gives twice.
That which is lightly gained is little valued.
For Love sometimes flies and sometimes walks
—runs with one person, and goes leisurely with an-
other: some he warms, and some he burns; some
he wounds, and others he kills: in one and the
same instant he forms and accomplishes his projects.
He often in the morning lays siege to a fortress


OF DON QUIXOTE. 33
which in the evening surrenders to him—for no force
is able to resist him.
The nearer the prospect of possession, the more
eager we are for the enjoyment.
Heaven always favors the honest purpose.
Rank is not essential in a wife.
True nobility consists in virtue.
It is no derogation to rank to elevate beauty
adorned with virtue.
Time will discover.
"Certainly, gentlemen, if we rightly consider it,
those who make knight-errantry their profession
often meet with surprising and most stupendous ad-
ventures. For what mortal in the world, at this
time entering within this castle, and seeing us sit
together as we do, will imagine and believe us to be
the same persons which in reality we are? Who is
there that can judge that this lady by my side is the
great queen we all know her to be, and that I am
that Knight of the Sorrowful Figure so universally
made known by fame? It is, then, no longer to be
doubted but that this exercise and profession sur-
passes all others that have been invented by man,
and is so much the more honorable as it is more ex-
posed to dangers. Let none presume to tell me
r


34 WIT AND WISDOM
that the pen is preferable to the sword. This may
be ascertained by regarding the end and object each
of them aims at; for that intention is to be most
valued which makes the noblest end its object. The
scope and end of learning, I mean human learning
(in this place I speak not of divinity, whose aim is
to guide souls to Heaven, for no other can equal a
design so infinite as that), is to give a perfection to
distributive justice, bestowing upone very one his due,
and to procure and cause good laws to be observed;
an end really generous, great, and worthy of high
commendation, but yet not equal to that which
knight-errantry tends to, whose object and end is
peace, which is the greatest blessing man can wish
for in this life. And, therefore, the first good news
that the world received was that which the angels
brought in the night—the beginning of our day—
when they sang in the air, 'Glory to God on high,
peace on earth, and to men good-will.' And the
only manner of salutation taught by our great Mas-
ter to His friends and favorites was, that entering
any house they should say, 'Peace be to this house.'
And at other times He said to them, ' My peace I
give to you,' ' My peace I leave to you,' ' Peace be
among you.' A jewel and legacy worthy of such a
donor, a jewel so precious that without it there can
be no happiness either in earth or heaven. This
peace is the true end of war; for arms and war are
one and the same thing. Allowing, then, this truth,
that the end of war is peace, and that in this it ex-


OF DON QUIXOTE. 35
ceis the end of learning, let us now weigh the bodily
labors the scholar undergoes against those the war-
rior suffers, and then see which are the greatest."
The method and language Don Quixote used in
delivering himself were such, that none of his hear-
ers at that time looked upon him as a madman; but,
on the contrary, most of them being gentlemen to
whom the use of arms properly appertains, they gave
him a willing attention; and he proceeded in this
manner: "These, then, I say, are the sufferings
and hardships a scholar endures. First poverty (not
that they are all poor, but to urge the worst that
may be in this case); and having said he endures
poverty, methinks nothing more need be urged to
express his misery; for he that is poor enjoys no
happiness, but labors under this poverty in all its
parts, at one time in hunger, at another in cold,
another in nakedness, and sometimes in all of them
together; yet his poverty is not so great, but still
he eats, though it be later than the usual hour, and
of the scraps of the rich; neither can the scholar
miss of somebody's stove or fireside to sit by;
where, though he be not thoroughly heated, yet he
may gather warmth, and at last sleep away the night
under a roof. I will not touch upon other less ma-
terial circumstances, as the want of linen, and
scarcity of shoes, thinness and baldness of their
clothes, and their surfeiting when good fortune
throws a feast in their way; this is the difficult and
uncouth path thev tread, often stumbling and fall-
^


36 WIT AND. WISDOM
ing, yet rising again and pushing on, till they attain
the preferment they aim at; whither being arrived,
we have seen many of them, who, having been car-
ried by a fortunate gale through all these quicksands,
from a chair govern the world; their hunger being
changed into satiety, their cold into comfortable
warmth, their nakedness into magnificence of ap-
parel, and the mats they used to lie upon, into stately
beds of costly silks and softest linen, a reward due
to their virtue. But yet their sufferings being com-
pared to those the soldier endures, appear much
inferior, as I shall in the next place make out."
Don Quixote, after a short pause, continued his
discourse thus: "Since, in speaking of the scholar,
we began with his poverty and its several branches,
let us see whether the soldier be richer. We shall
find that poverty itself is not more poor: for he de-
pends on his wretched pay, which comes late, and
sometimes never; or upon what he can pillage, at
the imminent risk of his life and conscience. Such
often is his nakedness that his slashed buff-doublet
serves him both for finery and shirt; and in the
midst of winter, on the open plain, he has nothing
to warm him but the breath of his mouth, which,
issuing from an empty place, must needs be cold.
But let us wait, and see whether night will make
amends for these inconveniences: if his bed be too
narrow it is his own fault, for he may measure out
as many feet of earth as he pleases, and roll himself
thereon at pleasure without fear of rumpling the


OF DON QUIXOTE. 37
sheets. Suppose the moment arrived of taking
his degree—I mean, suppose the day of battle come:
his doctoral cap may then be of lint, to cover some
gun-shot wound, which perhaps has gone through
his temples, or deprived him of an arm or leg.
"And evens uppose that Heaven in its mercy
should preserve him alive and unhurt, he will prob-
ably remain as poor as ever; for he must be en-
gaged and victorious in many battles before he can ex-
pect high promotion; and such good fortune happens
only by a miracle: for you will allow, gentlemen,
that few are the number of those that have reaped
the reward of their services, compared with those
who have perished in war. The dead are countless;
whereas those who survived to be rewarded may be
numbered with three figures. Not so with scholars,
who by their salaries (I will not say their perqui-
sites) are generally handsomely provided for. Thus
the labors of the soldier are greater, although his
reward is less. It may be said in answer to this,
that it is easier to reward two thousand scholars
than thirty thousand soldiers: for scholars are re-
warded by employments which must of course be
given to men of their profession; whereas the sol-
dier can only be rewarded by the property of the
master whom he serves; and this defence serves to
strengthen my argument.
"But, waiving this point, let us consider the com-
parative claims to pre-eminence: for the partisans
of each can bring powerful arguments in support of
r


38 WIT AND WISDOM
their own cause. It is said in favor of letters that
without them arms could not subsist; for war must
have its laws, and laws come within the province of
the learned. But it may be alleged in reply, that
arms are necessaiy to the maintenance of law; by
arms the public roads are protected, cities guarded,
states defended, kingdoms preserved, and the seas
cleared of corsairs and pirates. In short, without
arms there would be no safety for cities, common-
wealths, or kingdoms. Besides, it is just to estimate
a pursuit in proportion to the cost of its attainment.
Now it is true that eminence in learning is pur-
chased by time, watching, hunger, nakedness, ver-
tigo, indigestion, and many other inconveniences
already mentioned: but a man who rises gradually
to be a good soldier endures all these, and far more.
What is the hunger and poverty which menace the
man of letters compared to the situation of the sol-
dier, who, besieged in some fortress, and placed as
sentinel in some ravelin or cavalier, perceives that
the enemy is mining toward the place where he
stands, and yet he must on no account stir from his
post or shun the imminent danger that threatens
him? All that he can do in such a case is to give
notice to his officer of what passes, that he may en-
deavor to counteract it; in the mean time he must
stand his ground, in momentary expectation of
being mounted to the clouds without wings, and
then dashed headlong to the earth. And if this be
thought but a trifling danger, let us see whether it be


OF DON QUIXOTE. 39
equalled or exceeded by the encounter of two galleys,
prow to prow, in the midst of the white sea, locked
and grappled together, so that there is no more
room left for the soldier than the two-foot plank at
the break-head; and though he sees as many threat-
ening ministers of death before him as there are
pieces of artillery pointed at him from the opposite
side, not the length of a lance from his body; though
he knows that the first slip of his foot sends him to
the bottom of the sea; yet, with an undaunted
heart, inspired by honor, he exposes himself as a
mark to all their fire, and endeavors by that narrow
pass to force his way into the enemy's vessel! And,
what is most worthy of admiration, no sooner is one
fallen, never to rise again in this world, than an-
other takes his place; and if he also fall into the
sea, which lies in wait to devour him, another and
another succeeds without intermission! In all the
extremities of war there is no example of courage
and intrepidity to exceed this. Happy those ages
which knew not the dreadful fury of artillery!—
those instruments of hell (where, I verily believe,
the inventor is now receiving the reward of his dia-
bolical ingenuity), by means of which the cowardly
and the base can deprive the bravest soldier of life.
While a gallant spirit animated with heroic ardor is
pressing to glory, comes a chance ball, sent by one
who perhaps fled in alarm at the flash of his own
accursed weapon, and in an instant cuts short the
life of him who deserved to live for ages! When I


42
WIT AND WISDOM
III.
On Afric's coast, as records tell,
The scene of past and present woes,
More valiant bodies never fell,
More spotless spirits never rose.
How seldom promises made in slavery are re-
membered after a release from bondage!
Good fortune seldom comes pure and single un-
attended by some troublesome or unexpected cir-
cumstance.
Tossed in a sea of doubts and fears,
Love's hapless mariner, I sail,
Where no inviting port appears,
To screen me from the stormy gale.
ii.
At distance viewed, a cheering star
Conducts me through the swelling tide;
A brighter luminary, far,
Than Palinurus e'er descried.
in.
My soul attracted by its blaze,
Still follows where it points the way,
And while attentively I gaze,
Considers not how far I stray.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 43
IV.
But female pride, reserved and shy,
Like clouds that deepen on the day,
Oft shroud it from my longing eye,
When most I need the genial ray.
O lovely star, so pure and bright!
Whose splendor feeds my vital fire,
The moment thou deny'st thy light,
Thy lost adorer will expire!
SONG.
Unconquered hope, thou bane of fear,
And last deserter of the brave,
Thou soothing ease of mortal care,
Thou traveller beyond the grave;
Thou soul of patience, airy food,
Bold warrant of a distant good,
Reviving cordial, kind decoy;
Though fortune frowns and friends depart,
Though Silvia flies me, flattering joy,
Nor thou, nor love, shall leave my doting heart.
No slave, to lazy ease resigned,
E'er triumphed over noble foes;
The monarch fortune most is kind
To him who bravely dares oppose.
They say, Love rates his blessing high,
But who would prize an easy joy?
r


40 WIT AND WISDOM
consider this, I could almost repent having under-
taken this profession of knight-errantry in so detest-
able an age; for though no danger can daunt me,
still it gives me some concern to think that powder
and lead may suddenly cut short my career of glory.
But Heaven's will be done! I have this satisfac-
tion, that I shall acquire the greater fame if I suc-
ceed, inasmuch as the perils by which I am beset
are greater than those to which the knights-errant
of past ages were exposed."
The army is a school in which the miser be-
comes generous, and the generous prodigal.
A covetous soldier is a monster which is rarelv
seen.
Liberality may be carried too far in those who
have children to inherit from them.
We have a saying in Spain, which, I believe, is
very true, as indeed all proverbs are, because they
are short sentences dictated by long and sage expe-
rience: that which I mean, contains no more than
these words: "The church, the court, or the sea ;"
as if it more fully expressed the following advice,
He that would make his fortune, ought either to
dedicate his time to the church, go to sea as a mer-
chant, or attach himself to the court: for it is com-
monly observed, that "the king's crumb is worth
the baron's batch." *
* The king's morsel is better than the lord's bounty.


44 WIT AND WISDOM
My scornful fair then I'll pursue,
Though the coy beauty still denies;
I grovel now on earth, 'tis true,
But, raised by her, the humble slave may rise.
Might overcomes.
Him to whom God giveth, may St. Peter bless.
It is a common proverb that diligence is the
mother of success, and in many important causes
experience hath shown that the assiduity of the so-
licitor hath brought a very doubtful suit to a very
fortunate issue; but the truth of this maxim is no-
where more evinced than in war, where activity and
dispatch anticipate the designs of the enemy, and
obtain the victory before he has time to put himself
in a posture of defence.
The common adage that delays are dangerous
acts as spurs upon the resolution.
There are more tricks in the town than are
dreamt of.
Virtue is so powerful that of herself she will,
in spite of all the necromancy possessed by the first
inventor Zoroaster, come off" conqueror in every
severe trial, and shine refulgent in the world, as the
sun shines in the heavens.
Virtue is always more persecuted by the wicked
than beloved by the righteous.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 45
Just are virtue's fears where envy domineers!
Bounty will not stay where niggards bear the
sway.
Fortune turns faster than a mill-wheel, and
those who were yesterday at top, may find them-
selves at bottom to-day.
Every one is the son of his own works.
The mind receives pleasure from the beauty and
consistency of what is presented to the imagination,
not from that which is incongruous and unnatural.
Fiction is always the better the nearer it resem-
bles truth, and agreeable in proportion to the prob-
ability it bears and the doubtful credit which it in-
spires. Wherefore, all such fables ought to be
suited to the understanding of those who read them,
and written so, as that by softening impossibilities,
smoothing what is rough, and keeping the mind in
suspense, they may surprise, agreeably perplex, and
entertain, creating equal admiration and delight;
and these never can be excited by authors who for-
sake probability and imitation, in which the perfec-
tion of writing consists.
Epics may be written in prose as well as verse.
To assert that there never was an Amadis in the
world, nor any other of the knights-adventurers of


46 WIT AND WISDOM
whom so many records remain, is to say that the
sun does not enlighten, the frost produce cold, nor
the earth yield sustenance.
The approbation of the judicious few should far
outweigh the censure of the ignorant.
An author had better be applauded by the few
that are wise than laughed at by the many that are
foolish.
Our modern plays, not only those which are
formed upon fiction, but likewise such as are founded
on the truth of history, are all, or the greatest part,
universally known to be monstrous productions,
without either head or tail, and yet received with
pleasure by the multitude, who approve and esteem
them as excellent performances, though they are
far from deserving that title; and if the authors
who compose, and the actors who represent them,
affirm that this and no other method is to be prac-
tised, because the multitude must be pleased; that
those which bear the marks of contrivance, and
produce a fable digested according to the rules of
art, serve only for entertainment to four or five peo-
ple of taste, who discern the beauties of the plan,
which utterly escape the rest of the audience; and
that it is better for them to gain a comfortable live-
lihood by the many, than starve upon reputation
with the few; at this rate, said I, if I should fin-
ish my book, after having scorched every hair in my
x


OF DON QUIXOTE. 47
whiskers in poring over it, to preserve those rules
and precepts already mentioned, I might fare at last
like the sagacious botcher, who sewed for nothing
and found his customers in thread.
It is not a sufficient excuse to say that the object
in permitting theatrical exhibitions being chiefly to
provide innocent recreation for the people, it is un-
necessary to limit and restrain the dramatic author
within strict rules of composition; for I affirm that
the same object is, beyond all comparison, more ef-
fectually attained by legitimate works. The spec-
tator of a good drama is amused, admonished, and
improved, by what is diverting, affecting, and moral
in the representation; he is cautioned against deceit,
corrected by example, incensed against vice, stimu-
lated to the love of virtue.
Comedy, according to Tully, ought to be the
mirror of life, the exemplar of manners, and picture
of truth; whereas those that are represented in this
age are mirrors of absurdity, exemplars of folly, and
pictures of lewdness; for sure nothing can be more
absurd in a dramatic performance, than to see the
person, who, in the first scene of the first act, was
produced a child in swaddling-clothes, appear a full-
grown man with a beard in the second; or to repre-
sent an old man active and valiant, a young soldier
cowardly, a footman eloquent, a page a counsellor,
a king a porter, and a princess a scullion. Then
what shall we say concerning their management of


48 WIT AND WISDOM
the time and place in which the actions have, or
may be supposed to have happened? I have seen
a comedy, the first act of which was laid in Europe,
the second in Asia, and the third was finished in
Africa; nay, had there been a fourth, the scene
would have shifted to America, so that the fable
would have travelled through all the four divisions
of the globe. If imitation be the chief aim of
comedy, how can any ordinary understanding be
satisfied with seeing an action that passed in the
time of King Pepin and Charlemagne, ascribed to
the Emperor Heraclius, who, being the principal
personage, is represented, like Godfrey of Boulogne,
carrying the cross into Jerusalem, and making him-
self master of the holy sepulchre, an infinite num-
ber of years having passed between the one and the
other? Or, when a comedy is founded upon fiction,
to see scraps of real history introduced, and facts
misrepresented both with regard to persons and
times, not with any ingenuity of contrivance, but
with the most manifest and inexcusable errors and
stupidity; and what is worst of all, there is a set of
ignorant pretenders who call this the perfection of
writing, and that every attempt to succeed by a con-
trary method is no other than a wild-goose chase.
The bow cannot remain always bent, and re-
laxation, both of body and mind, is indispensable to
all.
Can you deny what is in everybody's mouth,


OF DON QUIXOTE. 49
when a person is in the dumps? It is always then
said, " I know not what such a one ails—he neither
eats, nor drinks, nor sleeps, nor answers to the pur-
pose, like other men—surely he is enchanted."
Wherefore, it is clear that such, and such only, are
enchanted who neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep, and
not they who eat and drink when they can get it,
and answer properly to all that is asked them.
"The poor man is unable to exercise the virtue
of liberality, and the gratitude which consists only
in inclination is a dead thing, even as faith without
works is dead. I shall, therefore, rejoice when for-
tune presents me with an opportunity of exalting
myself, that I may show my heart in conferring
benefits on my friends, especially on poor Sancho
Panza here, my squire, who is one of the best men
in the world; and I would fain bestow on him an
earldom, as I have long since promised; although I
am somewhat in doubt of his ability in the govern-
ment of his estate."
Sancho, overhearing his master's last words,
said, "Take you the trouble, Signor Don Quixote,
to procure me that same earldom, which your wor-
ship has so often promised, and I have been so long
waiting for, and you shall see that I shall not want
ability to govern it. But even if I should, there
are people, I have heard say, who farm these lord-
ships; and, paying the owners so much a year, take
upon themselves the government of the whole,


OF DON QUIXOTE. , 55
But worth, in these ungrateful times,
To envied honor seldom climbs.
Vain mortals! give your wishes o'er,
And trust the flatterer Hope no more,
Whose promises, whate'er they seem,
End in a shadow or a dream.
CACHIDIABLO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE SEPULTURE OP
DON OJJIXOTE.
EPITAPH.
Here lies an evil-errant knight,
Well bruised in many a fray,
Whose courser, Rozinante hight,.
Long bore him many a way.
Close by his loving master's side
Lies booby Sancho Panza,
A trusty squire of courage tried,
And true as ever man saw.
TIOJJ1TOC, ACADEMICIAN Or ARGAMASILLA, ON THE SEPULTURE OP
DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO.
Here lies Dulcinea, once so plump,
But now her fat all melts away j
For Death, with an inhuman thump,
Has turned her into dust and clay.
Of a true breed she surely sprung,
And wanted not external grace;
Don Quixote's heart with love she stung,
And shone the glory of her race.
These were all the verses which could be read;


56 WIT AND WISDOM
the rest being worm-eaten, were delivered to an
academician, that he might attempt to unravel their
meaning by conjecture. This task, we understand,
he has performed with infinite pains and study, in-
tending to publish them to the world, in expectation
of the third sally of Don Quixote.
"Forse altri camera con miglior plet,tro."
With God nothing is impossible.
Despair added to misfortune impairs the health
and hastens death.
Mountains produce learned men, and philoso-
phers are to be found within the shepherd's cot.
No padlocks, bolts, or bars can secure a maiden
so well as her own reserve.
Honey is not for the mouth of an ass.
He must be blind, indeed, who cannot see through
a sieve.
Comparisons, whether as to sense, courage,
beauty, or rank, are always offensive.
Scruples of conscience afford no peace.
You have reckoned without your host.
When the head aches, all the members ache
also.
When virtue exists in an eminent degree, it is
always persecuted. ...


OF DON QUIXOTE. 57
To be represented otherwise than with approba-
tion is worse than the worst of deaths.
There are as many different opinions as there
are different tastes.
Pedir cotufas en el golfo, signifies to look for
truffles in the sea, a proverb applicable to those who
are too sanguine in their expectations and unreason-
able in their desires.
"There is no necessity for recording actions
which are prejudicial to the hero, without being es-
sential to the history. It is not to be supposed that
./Eneas was in all his actions so pure as Virgil rep-
resents him, nor Ulysses so uniformly prudent as he
is described by Homer." "True," replied Samp-
son; "but it is one thing to write as a poet, and
another to write as an historian. The poet may
say or sing, not as things were, but as they ought
to have been; but the historian must pen them not
as they ought to have been, but as they really were,
without adding to or diminishing aught from the
truth."
There is no human history that does not contain
reverses of fortune.
While thou art advancing in years, age will
bring experience.
Let every man take care how he speaks or


58 WIT AND WISDOM
writes of honest people, and not set down at a ven-
ture the first thing that comes uppermost.
With hay or with straw it is all the same.
Much knowledge and a mature understanding
are requisite for an historian.
Wit and humor belong to genius alone.
The wittiest person in the comedy is he that
plays the fool.
History is a sacred subject, because the soul of
it is truth; and where truth is, there the divinity
will reside; yet there are some who compose and
cast off books as if they were tossing up a dish of
pancakes.
There is no book so bad but something good
may be found in it.
Printed works may be read leisurely, their de-
fects easily seen, so they are scrutinized more or
less strictly in proportion to the celebrity of the
author.
"Men of great talents, whether poets or histo-
rians, seldom escape the attacks of those who, with-
out ever favoring the world with any production of
their own, take delight in criticising the works of
others." "Nor can we wonder at that," said Don
Quixote, "when we observe the same practice
among divines, who, though dull enough in the pul-
X
!


OF DON QUIXOTE. 59
pit themselves, are wonderfully sharp-sighted in dis-
covering the defects of other preachers." "True,
indeed, Signor Don Quixote," said Carrasco; "I
wish critics would be less fastidious, nor dwell so
much upon the motes which may be discerned even
in the brightest works; for, though aliquando bonus
dormitat Homerus, they ought to consider how much
he was awake to produce a work with so much light
and so little shade; nay, perhaps even his seeming
blemishes are like moles, which are sometimes
thought to be rather an improvement to beauty.
But it cannot be denied that whoever publishes a
book to the world, exposes himself to imminent
peril, since, of all things, nothing is more impossi-
ble than to satisfy everybody."
Me pondra en la Espina de Santa Lucia; i. e.,
Will put me on St. Lucia's thorn ; applicable to any
uneasy situation.
Let every man lay his hand upon his heart, and
not take white for black, nor black for white; for
we are all as God made us, and oftentimes a great
deal worse.
Works done in haste are never finished with
perfection.
There must be a time to attack and a time to
retreat, and it must not be always, "St. Jago!"
and, " Charge, Spain!"
'


OF DON QUIXOTE. 61
sorrow for leaving you; so that I was right in say-
ing that I should be glad if it pleased Heaven I
were not so well pleased." "Look you, Sancho,"
replied Teresa, "ever since you have been a knight-
errant man, you talk in such a roundabout manner
that nobody can understand you." "It is enough,
wife," said Sancho, "that God understands me.
For He is the understander of all things; and so
much for that. And do you hear, wife, it behooves
you to take special care of Dapple for these three
or four days to come, that he may be in a condition
to bear arms; so double his allowance, and get the
pack-saddle in order, and the rest of his tackling;
for we are not going to a wedding, but to roam
about the world, and to give and take with giants,
fiery dragons, and goblins, and to hear hissings,
roarings, bellowings, and bleatings, all which would
be but flowers of lavender, if we had not to do
with Yangueses and enchanted Moors." "I be-
lieve, indeed, husband," replied Teresa, "that your
squires-errant do not eat their bread for nothing,
and therefore I shall not fail to beseech Heaven to
deliver you speedily from so much evil hap." "I
tell you, wife," answered Sancho, "that did I not
expect, ere long, to see myself governor of an
island, I vow I should drop down dead upon the
spot." "Not so, good husband," quoth Teresa;
"let the hen live, though it be with the pip. Do
you live, and the devil take all the governments in
the world! Without a government you came into


62 WIT AND WISDOM
the world, without a government you have lived till
now, and without it you can be carried to your
grave, whenever it shall please God. How many
folks are there in the world that have no govern-
ment! and yet they live, and are reckoned among
the people. The best sauce in the world is hunger,
and as that is never wanting to the poor, they al-
ways eat with a relish. But if perchance, Sancho,
you should get a government, do not forget me and
your children. Consider that your son Sancho is
just fifteen years old, and it is fit he should go to
school, if his uncle the abbot means to breed him
up to the church. Consider, also, that Mary San-
cha, your daughter, will not break her heart if we
marry her; for I am mistaken if she has not as
much mind to a husband as you have to a govern-
ment; and verily say I, better a daughter but hum-
bly married than highly kept." "In good faith,
dear wife," said Sancho, "if Heaven be so good to
me that I get any thing like a government, I will
match Mary Sancha so highly that there will be no
coming near her without calling her your ladyship."
"Not so, Sancho," answered Teresa; "the best
way is to marry her to her equal; for if you lift her
from clouted shoes to high heels, and, instead of
her russet coat of fourteenpenny stuff, give her a
farthingale and petticoats of silk; and instead of
plain Molly and thou, she be called madam and
your ladyship, the girl will not know where she is,
and will fall into a thousand mistakes at every step,


OF DON QUIXOTE. 63
showing her home-spun country stuff." "Peace,
fool!" quoth Sancho, " she has only to practise two
or three years, and the gravity will set upon her as
if it were made for her; and if not, what matters
it? Let her be a lady, and come of it what will."
"Measure yourself by your condition, Sancho,"
answered Teresa; "and do not seek to raise your-
self higher, but remember the proverb, 'Wipe your
neighbor's son's nose and take him into your house.'
It would be a pretty business, truly, to marry our
Mary to some great count or knight, who, when
the fancy takes him, would look upon her as some
strange thing, and be calling her country-wench,
clod-breaker's brat, and I know not what else.
No, not while I live, husband; I have not brought
up my child to be so used; do you provide money,
Sancho, and leave the matching of her to my care;
for there is Lope Tocho, John Tocho's son, a
lusty, hale young man, whom we know, and I am
sure he has a sneaking kindness for the girl; to him
she will be very well married, considering he is our
equal, and will be always under our eye; and we
shall be all as one, parents and children, grandsons
and sons-in-law, and so the peace and blessing of
Heaven will be among us all; and do not you be
for marrying her at your courts and great palaces,
where they will neither understand her, nor she
understand herself." "Hark you, beast, and wife
for Barabbas," replied Sancho, "why would you
now, without rhyme or reason, hinder me from


OF DON QUIXOTE. 65
without the addition, garniture, and embroidery of
Don or Donna; my father's name is Cascajo, and
mine, as being your spouse, Teresa Panza, though
by rights I should be called Teresa Cascajo; but
as the king minds, the law binds; and with that
name am I contented, though it be not burdened
with a Don, which weighs so heavy, that I should
not be able to bear it. Neither will I put it in
the power of those who see me dressed like a count-
ess or governor's lady, to say, ' Mind Mrs. Pork-
feeder, how proud she looks! it was but yesterday
she toiled hard at the distaff, and went to mass with
the tail of her gown about her head, instead of a
veil; but now, forsooth, she has got her fine far-
thingales and jewels, and holds up her head as if
we did not know her.' If God preserve me in my
seven or five senses, or as many as they be, I shall
never bring myself into such a quandary. As for
your part, spouse, you may go to your governments
and islands, and be as proud as a peacock; but as
for my daughter and me, by the life of my father!
we will not stir one step from the village; for, the
wife that deserves a good name, stays at home as if
she were lame; and the maid must be still adoing,
that hopes to see the men come a-wooing."
He that covers, discovers.
The poor man is scarcely looked at, while every
eye is turned upon the rich: and if the poor man
grows rich and great, then I warrant you there is


66 WIT AND WISDOM
work enough for your grumblers and backbiters,
who swarm everywhere like bees.
All object present to the view, exist, and are
impressed upon the imagination, with much greater
energy and force, than those which we only re-
member to have seen.
When we see any person finely dressed, and
set ofF with rich apparel and with a train of ser-
vants, we are moved to show him respect; for,
though we cannot but remember certain scurvy
matters either of poverty or parentage, that for-
merly belonged to him, but which being long gone
by are almost forgotten, we only think of what we
see before our eyes. And if, as the preacher said,
the person so raised by good luck, from nothing,
as it were, to the tip-top of prosperity, be well-be-
haved, generous, and civil, and gives himself no
ridiculous airs, pretending to vie with the old no-
bility, take my word for it, Teresa, nobody will
twit him with what he was, but will respect him
for what he is, except, indeed, the envious, who
hate every man's good luck.
People are always ready enough to lend their
money to governors.
Clothe the boy so that he may look not like
what he is, but what he may be.
To this burden women are born: they must


OF DON QUIXOTE. 67
obey their husbands if they are ever such block-
heads.
He that's coy when fortune's kind, may after
seek but never find.
All knights cannot be courtiers, neither can all
courtiers be knights.
The courtier knight travels only on a map,
without fatigue or expense; he neither suffers heat
nor cold, hunger nor thirst. While the true knight-
errant explores every quarter of the habitable world,
and is by night and day on foot or on horseback,
exposed to all the vicissitudes of the weather.
All are not affable and well-bred; on the con-
trary, some there are extremely brutal and impolite.
All those who call themselves knights, are not en-
titled to that distinction; some being of pure gold,
and others of baser metal, notwithstanding the de-
nomination they assume. But these last cannot
stand the touchstone of truth; there are mean ple-
beians, who sweat and struggle to maintain the ap-
pearance of gentlemen; and, on the other hand,
there are gentlemen of rank who seem industrious
to appear mean and degenerate; the one sort raise
themselves either by ambition or virtue, while the
other abase themselves by viciousness or sloth; so
that we must avail ourselves of our understanding
and discernment in distinguishing those persons,
who, though they bear the same appellation, are yet

4


68 WIT AND WISDOM
so different in point of character. All the genealo-
gies in the world may be reduced to four kinds.
The first are those families who from a low begin-
ning have raised and extended themselves, until
they have reached the highest pinnacle of human
greatness; the second are those of high extraction,
who have preserved their original dignity; the third
sort are those who, from a great foundation, have
gradually dwindled, until, like a pyramid, they ter-
minate in a small point. The last, which are the
most numerous class, are those who have begun
and continued low, and who must end the same.
Genealogies are involved in endless confusion,
and those only are illustrious and great who are
distinguished by their virtue and liberality, as well
as their riches; for the great man who is vicious is
only a great sinner; and the rich man who wants
liberality is but a miserly pauper.
The gratification which wealth can bestow is
not in mere possession, nor in lavishing it with
prodigality, but in the wise application of it.
The poor knight can only manifest his rank by
his virtues and general conduct. He must be Well-
bred, courteous, kind, and obliging; not proud, nor
arrogant, no murmurer; above all, he must be
charitable, and by two maravedis given cheerfully
to the poor he shall display as much generosity as
the rich man who bestows large alms by sound of
bell. Of such a man no one would doubt his hon-
^


OF DON QUIXOTE. 69
orable descent, and general applause will be the sure
reward of his virtue.
There are two roads by which men may attain
riches and honor: the one by letters, the other by
arms.
The path of virtue is narrow, that of vice is
spacious and broad, as the great Castilian poet ex-
presses it:
By these rough paths of toil and pain,
The immortal seats of bliss we gain,
Denied to those who heedless stray
In tempting pleasure's flowery way.
Fast bind, fast find.
He who shuffles is not he who cuts.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
Though there is little in a woman's advice, yet
he that won't take it is not over-wise.
We are all mortal; here to-day and gone to-
morrow.
The lamb goes to the spit as soon as the sheep.
No man in this world can promise himself more
hours of life than God is pleased to grant him; be-
cause death is deaf, and when he knocks at the
door of life is always in a hurry, and will not be
detained either by fair means or force, by sceptres


OF DON QUIXOTE. 71
There is a time for jesting, and a time when
jokes are unseasonable.
Truth may bend but never break, and will ever
rise above falsehood, like oil above water.
With lovers the external actions and gestures
are couriers, which bear authentic tidings of what
is passing in the exterior of the soul.
A stout heart flings misfortune.
Where you meet with no books you need ex-
pect no bacon.
The hare often starts where the hunter least
expects her.
There is a remedy for every thing but death,
who will take us in his clutches spite of our teeth.
Show me who thou art with, and I will tell thee
what thou art.
Not with whom thou wert bred, but with whom
thou art fed.
Sorrow was made for man, not for beasts, yet
if men encourage melancholy too much, they be-
come no better than beasts.
It is not courage, but rashness, for one man
singly to encounter an army, where death is pres-
ent, and where emperors fight in person, assisted by
good and bad angels.
S


72 WIT AND WISDOM
Good Christians should never revenge injuries.
A sparrow in the hand is better than a vulture
on the wing.
At the conclusion of this drama of life, death
strips us of the robes which make the difference
between man and man, and leaves us all on one
level in the grave.
From a friend to a friend,* etc.
Nor let it be taken amiss that any comparison
should be made between the mutual cordiality of
animals and that of men; for much useful knowl-
edge and many salutary precepts have been taught
by the brute creation.
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth
speaketh.f
We may learn gratitude as well as vigilance
from cranes, foresight from ants, modesty from ele-
phants, and loyalty from horses.
SONNET.
Bright authoress of my good or ill,
Prescribe the law I must observe;
My heart, obedient to thy will,
Shall never from its duty swerve.
* "From a friend to a friend, a bug in the eye," is a proverb ap-
plied to the false professions of friendship.
| Cervantes makes frequent use of Bible quotations.
N


OF DON QUIXOTE. 73
If you refuse my griefs to know,
The stifled anguish seals my fate -,
But if your ears would drink my woe,
Love shall himself the tale relate.
Though contraries my heart compose,
Hard as the diamond's solid frame,
And soft as yielding wax that flows,
To thee, my fair, 'tis still the same.
Take it, for every stamp prepared;
Imprint what characters you choose;
The faithful tablet, soft or hard,
The dear impression ne'er shall lose.
The sorrows that may arise from well-placed
affections, ought rather to be accounted blessings
than calamities.
Good fare lessens care.
Covetousness bursts the bag.
Other folks' burdens break the ass's back.
There is no road so smooth but it has its stum-
bling-places.
Madness will have more followers than discre-
tion.
Comparisons in grief lessen its weight.
If the blind lead the blind, both may fall into
the ditch.


74 WIT AND WISDOM
If we have a good loaf, let us not look for
cheese-cakes.
A good paymaster needs no pledge.
Nobody knows the heart of his neighbor; some
go out for wool and come home shorn.
The conquered must be at the discretion of the
conqueror.
It is easy to undertake, but more difficult to
finish a thing.
Heaven knows the truth of all things.
The ancient sages, who were not enlightened
with the knowledge of the true God, reckoned the
gifts of fortune and nature, abundance of friends,
and increase of dutiful children, as constituting part
of the supreme happiness.
Letters without virtue are like pearls on a dung-
hill.
Poetry I regard as a tender virgin, young and
extremely beautiful, whom divers other virgins—
namely, all the other sciences—are assiduous to en-
rich, to polish, and adorn. She is to be served by
them, and they are to be ennobled through her. But
this same virgin is not to be rudely handled, nor
dragged through the streets, nor exposed in the
market-place, nor posted on the corners of gates of


OF DON QUIXOTE. 75
palaces. She is of so exquisite a nature that he who
knows how to treat her will convert her into gold
of the most inestimable value. He who possesses
her should guard her with vigilance; neither suffer-
ing her to be polluted by obscene, nor degraded by
dull and frivolous works. Although she must be in
no wise venal, she is not, therefore, to despise the
fair reward of honorable labors, either in heroic or
dramatic composition. Buffoons must not come
near her, neither must she be approached by the
ignorant vulgar, who have no sense of her charms;
and this term is equally applicable to all ranks, for
whoever is ignorant is vulgar. He, therefore, who,
with the qualifications I have named, devotes him-
self to poetry, will be honored and esteemed by all
nations distinguished for intellectual cultivation.
Indeed, it is generally said that the gift of poesy
is innate—that is, a poet is born a poet, and thus
endowed by Heaven, apparently without study or
art, composes things which verify the saying, Est
deus in nobis, etc. Thus the poet of nature, who
improves himself by art, rises far above him who is
merely the creature of study. Art may improve,
but cannot surpass nature; and, therefore, it is the
union of both which produces the perfect poet.
Let him direct the shafts of satire against vice,
in all its various forms, but not level them at indi-
viduals, like some who, rather than not indulge
their mischievous wit, will hazard a disgraceful ban-


"]6 WIT AND WISDOM
ishment to the Isles of Pontus. If the poet be cor-
rect in his morals, his verse will partake of the same
purity: the pen is the tongue of the mind, and what
his conceptions are, such will be his productions.
The wise and virtuous subject who is gifted with a
poetic genius is ever honored and enriched by his
sovereign, and crowned with the leaves of the tree
which the thunderbolt hurts not, as a token that all
should respect those brows which are so honorably
adorned.
Forewarned, fore-armed; to be prepared is half
the victory.
It is a nobler sight to behold a knight-errant
assisting a widow in solitude than a courtier-knight
complimenting a damsel in the city.
Well I know that fortitude is a virtue placed
between the two extremes of cowardice and rash-
ness: but it is better the valiant should rise to the
extreme of temerity than sink to that of cowardice:
for, as it is easier for the prodigal than the miser to
become liberal, so it is much easier for the rash
than the cowardly to become truly brave.
In enterprises of every kind, it is better to lose
the game by a card too much than one too little;
for it sounds better to be called rash and daring
than timorous and cowardly.
"Signor Don Diego de Miranda, your father,
sir, has informed me of the rare talents you possess,


78 WIT AND WISDOM
Of all thy gifts I beg but this;
Glut all mankind with more,
Transport them with redoubled bliss,
But only mine restore.
With thought of pleasure once possessed,
I'm now as cursed as I was blessed:
Oh, would the charming hours return,
How pleased I'd live, how free from pain,
I ne'er would pine, I ne'er would mourn,
Though barred the hopes of greater gain.
But oh, the blessing I implore
Not fate itself can give!
Since time elapsed exists no more,
No power can bid it live.
Our days soon vanish into naught,
And have no being but in thought.
Whate'er began must end at last,
In vain we twice would youth enjoy,
In vain would we recall the past,
Or now the future hours employ.
Deceived by hope, and racked by fear,
No longer life can please;
I'll then no more its torments bear,
Since death so soon can ease.
This hour I'll die—but, let me pause—
A rising doubt my courage awes.
Assist, ye powers that rule my fate,
Alarm my thoughts, my rage restrain,
Convince my soul there's yet a state
That must succeed my present pain.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 83
tion of thine own person: a burden imposed on the
master by nature and custom. The servant sleeps,
and the master lies awake, considering how he is to
maintain, assist, and do him kindness. The pain
of seeing the heavens obdurate in withholding the
moisture necessary to refresh the earth, touches
only the master, who is bound to provide in times
of sterility and famine, for those who served him in
the season of fertility and abundance.
If he is poor he cannot think to wed Quiteria.
A pleasant fancy, forsooth, for a fellow who has
not a groat in his pocket to look for a yoke-mate
above the clouds. Faith, sir, in my opinion a poor
man should be contented with what he finds, and
not be seeking for truffles at the bottom of the sea.
CUPID'S ADDRESS.
I am the god whose power extends
Through the wide ocean, earth, and sky;
To my soft sway all nature bends,
Compelled by beauty to comply.
Fearless I rule, in calm and storm,
Indulge my pleasure to the full;
Things deemed impossible perform,
Bestow, resume, ordain, annul.
Cupid, having finished his address, shot an ar-
row over the castle, and retired to his station ; upon
which Interest stepped forth, and after two similar
movements, the music ceasing, he said:


84 WIT AND WISDOM
My power exceeds the might of love,
For Cupid bows to me alone;
Of all things framed by Heaven above,
The most respected, sought, and known.
My name is Interest; mine aid
But few obtain, though all desire:
Yet shall thy virtue, beauteous maid,
My constant services acquire.
Interest then withdrew, and Poetry advanced;
and, fixing her eyes on the damsel of the castle,
she said:
Let Poetry, whose strain divine
The wondrous power of song displays,
Her heart to thee, fair nymph, consign,
Transported in melodious lays:
If haply thou wilt not refuse
To grant my supplicated boon,
Thy fame shall, wafted by the muse,
Surmount the circle of the moon.
Poetry having retired from the side of Interest,
Liberality advanced; and, after making her move-
ments, said:
My name is Liberality,
Alike beneficent and wise,
To shun wild prodigality,
And sordid avarice despise.
Yet, for thy favor lavish grown,
A prodigal I mean to prove,


OF DON QUIXOTE. 85
An honorable vice, I own,
But giving is the test of love.
So much thou art worth as thou hast, and so
much thou hast as thou art worth.
There are only two families in the world: the
have somethings and the have nothings. Nowa-
days we are apt to feel more often the pulse of
property than of wisdom.
SANCHO PANZA ON DEATH.
"In good sooth, signor," said the squire, "there
is no trusting to Mrs. Ghostly, I mean Death, who
gobbles up the goslin as well as the goose; and, as
I have heard our curate observe, tramples down
the lofty turrets of the prince as well as the lowly
cottage of the swain. That same lady, who is more
powerful than coy, knows not what it is to be dainty
and squeamish; but eats of every thing, and crams
her wallet with people of all nations, degrees, and
conditions; she is none of your laborers that take
their afternoon's nap, but mows at all hours, cutting
down the dry stubble as well as the green grass;
nor does she seem to chew, but rather swallows
and devours every thing that falls in her way; for
she is gnawed by a dog's hunger that is never satis-
fied; and though she has no belly, plainly shows
herself dropsical, and so thirsty as to drink up the
lives of all the people upon earth, just as one would
swallow a draught of cool water." "Enough,


86 WIT AND WISDOM
friend Sancho," cried the knight, interrupting him
in this place; "keep thyself well, now thou art in
order, and beware of stumbling again; for really a
good preacher could not speak more to the purpose
than thou hast spoken upon Death, in thy rustic
manner of expression: I say unto thee, Sancho, if
thy discretion was equal to thy natural parts, thou
mightest ascend the pulpit, and go about teaching
and preaching to admiration." "He is a good
preacher who is a good liver," answered Panza,
"and that is all the divinity I know." "And that
is sufficient," said the knight; "yet I shall never
understand or comprehend, as the fear of God is
the beginning of wisdom, how thou, who art more
afraid of a lizard than of thy Maker, should be so
wise?" "Signor," replied Sancho, "I desire your
worship would determine in your own affairs of chiv-
alry, without taking the trouble to judge of other
people's valor or fears; for my own part, I am as
pretty a fearer of God as one would desire to see in
any neighbor's child; wherefore, I beseech your
worship, let me discuss this same scum; for every
thing else is idle chat, of which we shall be able to
give a bad account in the other world."
An ass with golden trappings makes a better
appearance than a horse with a pack-saddle.
"That ought not to be called deception which
aims at a virtuous end," said Don Quixote; "and
no end is more excellent than the marriage of true


OF DON QUIXOTE. 87
lovers; though love," added he, "has its enemies,
and none greater than hunger and poverty, for love
is all gayety, joy, and content."
"The poor man of honor (if a poor man can de-
serve that title) possesses, in a beautiful wife, a
jewel; and when that is taken away, he is deprived
of his honor, which is murdered: a beautiful and
chaste woman, whose husband is poor, deserves to
be crowned with laurel and palms of triumph; for
beauty alone attracts the inclinations of those who
behold it; just as the royal eagle and soaring hawk
stoop to the savory lure; but if that beauty is in-
cumbered by poverty and want, it is likewise at-
tacked by ravens, kites, and other birds of prey;
and if she who possesses it firmly withstands all
these assaults, she well deserves to be called the
crown of her husband. Take notice, dearest
Basilius," added the knight, " it was the opinion of
a certain sage, that there was but one good wife in
the whole world; and he advised every husband to
believe she had fallen to his share, and accordingly
be satisfied with his lot. I myself am not married,
nor hitherto have I entertained the least thought of
changing my condition; nevertheless, I will venture
to advise him who asks my advice, in such a manner,
that he may find a woman to his wish: in the first
place, I would exhort him to pay more regard to
reputation than to fortune; for a virtuous woman
does not acquire a good name, merely by being vir-


88 WIT AND WISDOM
tuous; she must likewise maintain the exteriors of
deportment, for the honor of the sex suffers much
more from levity and freedom of behavior in public,
than from any private misdeeds. If thou bringest
a good woman to thy house, it will be an easy task
to preserve and even improve her virtue; but,
shouldst thou choose a wife of a different character,
it will cost thee abundance of pains to mend her;
for it is not very practicable to pass from one ex-
treme to another: I do not say it is altogether im-
possible, though I hold it for a matter of much dif-
ficulty."
The ox that is loose is best licked.
Sancho, who had been attentive to the student's
discourse, said: "Tell me, sir—so may Heaven
send you good luck with your books—can you re-
solve me—but I know you can, since you know
every thing—who was the first man that scratched
his head? I, for my part, am of opinion, it must
have been our father Adam." "Certainly," an-
swered the scholar; "for there is no doubt but
Adam had a head and hair; and, this being granted,
he, being the first man in the world, must needs
have been the first who scratched his head." "That
is what I think," said Sancho; "but tell me now,
who was the first tumbler in the world?" "Truly,
brother," answered the scholar, "I cannot deter-
mine that point till I have given it some considera-
tion, which I will surely do when I return to my


90 WIT AND WISDOM
There is nothing more honorable, next to the
service which you owe to God, than to serve your
king and natural lord, especially in the profession
of arms, which, if less profitable than learning, far
exceeds it in glory. More great families, it is true,
have been established by learning, yet there is in
the martial character a certain splendor, which
seems to exalt it far above all other pursuits. But
allow me, sir, to offer you a piece of advice, which,
believe me, you will find worth your attention.
Never suffer your mind to dwell on the adverse
events of your life; for the worst that can befall
you is death, and when attended with honor there
is no event so glorious. Julius Cassar, that val-
orous Roman, being asked which was the kind of
death to be preferred, "That," said he, "which is
sudden and unforeseen!" Though he answered
like a heathen, who knew not the true God, yet
considering human infirmity, it was well said. For,
supposing you should be cut off in the very first
encounter, either by cannon-shot or the springing
of a mine, what does it signify? it is but dying,
which is inevitable, and, being over, there it ends.
Terence observes that the corpse of the man who
is slain in battle looks better than the living soldier
who has saved himself by flight; and the good sol-
dier rises in estimation according to the measure of
his obedience to those who command him. Ob-
serve, moreover, my son, that a soldier had better
smell of gunpowder than of musk; and if old age


92 WIT AND WISDOM
Affectation is the devil.
Heaven help every one to what is their just due,
but let us have plain dealing.
Wnen choler once is born,
The tongue all curb doth scorn.
When a brave man flies, he must have discov-
ered foul play.
To retire is not to fly.
Other men's pains are easily borne.
He who errs and mends,
Himself to Heaven commends.
Those who sin and kiss the rod,
Find favor in the sight of God.
If you obey the commands of your lord,
You may sit as a guest at his board.
In this world there is nothing but plots and
counterplots, mines, and countermines.
Where there is plenty, dinner is soon made
ready.
Often the hare starts where she is least ex-
pected.
I have heard it said, that the power called Na-
ture is like a potter, who, if he can make one beau-


94 WIT AND WISDOM
One must live long to see much.
He who lives long must suffer much.
To deprive a knight-errant of his mistress, is to
rob him of the eyes with which he sees, the sun by
which he is enlightened, and the support by which
he is maintained: I have many times said, and now
I repeat the observation, that a knight-errant with-
out a mistress, is like a tree without leaves, a build-
ing without cement, and a shadow without the sub-
stance by which it is produced.
Possessing beauty without blemish, dignity with-
out pride, love with modesty, politeness springing
from courtesy, and courtesy from good-breeding,
and, finally, of illustrious descent; for the beauty
that is of a noble race, shines with more splendor
than that which is meanly born.
Virtue ennobles blood, and a virtuous person of
humble birth is more estimable than a vicious per-
son of rank.
I must inform your graces, that Sancho Panza
is one of the most pleasant squires that ever served
a knight-errant: sometimes his simplicity is so arch,
that to consider whether he is more fool or wag,
yields abundance of pleasure; he has roguery enough
to pass for a knave, and absurdities sufficient to
confirm him a fool; he doubts every thing, and be-
lieves every thing; and often, when I think he is
going to discharge nonsense, he will utter apo-


96 WIT AND WISDOM
By night all cats are gray.
Sure the man his lot may rue,
Who has not broke his fast by two.
- • . .' *
Of the birds in the air
God Himself takes the care. . -;
And four yards of coarse cloth of Cuenza are
warmer than as many of fine Segovia serge; and in
travelling from this world to the next, the road is
no wider for the prince than the peasant. . The
pope's body takes up no more room than that of the
sexton, though a loftier person; for in the grave we
must pack close together, whether we like it or not.
I have heard say the devil lurks behind the
cross; all is not gold that glitters. From the
ploughtail Bamba was raised to the throne of Spain,
and from his riches and revels was Roderigo cast
down to be devoured by serpents—if ancient bal-
lads tell the truth.
None shall dare the loaf to steal
From him that sifts and kneads the meal.
An old dog is not to be coaxed with a crust.
No man is ever a scholar at his birth, and bish-
ops are made of men, not of stones.
There is a Judge in heaven who knows the
heart.
-- A good name is better than tons of gold. -


98 WIT AND WISDOM
From high-born beauty in a palace graced,
To the loathed features of a cottage wench.
With sympathizing grief I straight revolved
The numerous tomes of my detested art,
And in the hollow of this skeleton
My soul enclosing, hither am I come,
To tell the cure of such uncommon ills.
O glory thou of all that case their limbs
In polished steel and fenceful adamant!
Light, beacon, polar star, and glorious guide
Of all who, starting from the lazy down,
Banish ignoble sleep for the rude toil
And hardy exercise of errant arms!
Spain's boasted pride, La Mancha's matchless knight,
Whose valiant deeds outstrip pursuing fame!
Wouldst thou to beauty's pristine state restore
The enchanted dame, Sancho, thy faithful squire,
Must to his brawny buttocks, bare exposed,
Three thousand and three hundred stripes apply,
Such as may sting and give him smarting pain:
The authors of her change have thus decreed,
And this is Merlin's errand from the shades.
The golden load is a light burden.
Gifts will make their way through stone walls.
Pray devoutly and hammer on stoutly.
One take is worth two I'll give thee's.
Let the devil fetch the devil.


OF DON QUIXOTE. IOI
ing too extravagant for the credulity of the knight
and squire. The necessary orders were accordingly
issued to their servants and vassals with regard to
their behavior toward Sancho in his government of
the promised island. The day after the flight of
Clavileno, the duke bade Sancho prepare, and get
himself in readiness to assume his office, for his
islanders were already wishing for him as for rain
in May. Sancho made a low bow, and said, "Ever
since my journey to heaven, when I looked down
and saw the earth so very small, my desire to be a
governor has partly cooled: for what mighty matter
is it to command on a spot no bigger than a grain of
mustard-seed: where is the majesty and pomp of
governing half a dozen creatures no bigger than
hazel-nuts? If your lordship will be pleased to
offer me some small portion of heaven, though it
be but half a league, I would jump at it sooner than
for the largest island in the world."
"Look you, friend Sancho," answered the duke,
"I can give away no part of heaven, not even a
nail's breadth; for God has reserved to Himself the
disposal of such favors; but what it is in my power
to give, I give you with all my heart; and the
island I now present to you is ready made, round
and sound, well-proportioned, and above measure
fruitful, and where, by good management, you may
yourself, with the riches of the earth, purchase an
inheritance in heaven." "Well, then," answered
Sancho, "let this island be forthcoming, and it shall


OF DON QUIXOTE. IO3
"I have not much of that, for I hardly know my
ABC; but to be a good governor, it will be
enough that I am able to make my Christ-cross:
and as to arms, I shall handle such as are given me
till I fall, and so God help me." "With so good
an intention," quoth the duke, "Sancho cannot do
wrong."
Here they were joined by Don Quixote, who
understanding the subject of their conversation, and
the short space allotted to Sancho to prepare for his
departure, took the squire by the hand, with the
duke's permission, and led him to his apartment, in
order to instruct him how to behave in his office.
Having entered the chamber he locked the door,
and obliging Sancho to sit down by him, spoke to
this effect, in a grave and solemn tone:
"I return infinite thanks to Heaven, friend
Sancho, for having ordained that, before I myself
have met with the least success, good fortune hath
gone forth to bid thee welcome. I, who had bal-
anced the remuneration of thy service in my own
prosperity, find myself in the very rudiments of
promotion; while thou, before thy time, and con-
trary to all the laws of reasonable progression, find-
est thy desire accomplished: other people bribe,
solicit, importune, attend levees, entreat, and per-
severe, without obtaining their suit; and another
comes, who, without knowing why or wherefore,
finds himself in possession of that office to which so
many people laid claim: and here the old saying is
r


104 WIT AND WISDOM
aptly introduced, 'A pound of good luck is worth a
ton of merit.' Thou, who, in comparison to me,
art doubtless an ignorant dunce, without rising early
or sitting up late, or, indeed, exerting the least
industry; without any pretension more or less than
that of being breathed upon by knight-errantry,
seest thyself created governor of an island as if it
was a matter of moonshine. All this I observe, O
Sancho, that thou mayst not attribute thy success
to thy own deserts: but give thanks to heaven for
having disposed matters so beneficially in thy be-
half, and then make thy acknowledgments to that
grandeur which centres in the profession of knight-
errantry. Thy heart being thus predisposed to be-
lieve what I have said, be attentive, O my son, to
me who am thy Cato, thy counsellor, thy north-
pole and guide, to conduct thee into a secure harbor
from the tempestuous sea into which thou art going
to be engulfed; for great posts and offices of state
are no other than a profound gulf of confusion.
"In the first place, O my son, you are to fear
God: the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom
and if you are wise you cannot err. .,
"Secondly, you must always remember who you
are, and endeavor to know yourself; a study of all
others, the most difficult. ;This self-knowledge will
hinder you from blowing yourself up like the frog
in order to rival the size of the ox: if, therefore,
you succeed in this learning, the consideration of
thy having been a swineherd will,' like the pea-


OF DON QUIXOTE. IO5
cock's ugly feet, be a check upon thy folly and
pride." "I own I once took care of hogs, when I
was a boy," said Sancho; "but, after I grew up,
I quitted that employment, and took care of geese:
but I apprehend that matter is not of great conse-
quence, for all governors are not descended from the
kingly race." "No, sure," answered the knight;
"and, for that reason, those who are not of noble
extraction ought to sweeten the gravity of their
function with mildness and affability; which, being
prudently conducted, will screen them from those
malicious murmurs that no station can escape.
"Conceal not the meanness of thy family, nor
think it disgraceful to be descended from peasants:
for, when it is seen that thou art not thyself
ashamed, none will endeavor to make thee so; and
deem it more meritorious to be a virtuous humble
man than a lofty sinner. Infinite is the number of
those who, born of low extraction, have risen to
the highest dignities, both in church and state; and
of this truth I could tire thee with examples.
"If thou takest virtue for the rule of life, and
valuest thyself upon acting in all things conformably
thereto, thou wilt have no cause to envy lords and
princes; for blood is inherited, but virtue is a com-
mon property, and may be acquired by all; it has,
moreover, an intrinsic worth which blood has not.
This being so, if, peradventure, any one of thy kin-
dred visit thee in thy government, do not slight nor
affront him; but receive, cherish, and make much


OF DON QUIXOTE-. 109
at variance. But, in these second instructions given
to Sancho, which showed much ingenuity, his wis-
dom and frenzy are both singularly conspicuous.
During the whole of this private conference,
Sancho listened to his master with great attention,
and endeavored so to register his counsel in his
mind that he might thereby be enabled to bear the
burden of government and acquit himself honorably.
Don Quixote now proceeded:
"As to the regulation of thine own person and
domestic concerns," said he, "in the first place,
Sancho, I enjoin thee to be cleanly in all things.
Keep the nails of thy fingers constantly and neatly
pared, nor suffer them to grow as some do, who
ignorantly imagine that long nails beautify the hand,
and account the excess of. that excrement simply a
finger-nail, whereas it is rather the talon of the
lizard-hunting kestrel—a foul and unsightly object.
A slovenly dress betokens a careless mind; or, as
in the case of Julius Caesar, it may be attributed to
cunning.
"Examine prudently the income of thy office,
and if it will afford thee to give liveries to thy ser-
vants, give them such as are decent and lasting,
rather than gaudy and modish; and what thou shalt
thus save in thy servants bestow on the poor; so
shalt thou have attendants both in heaven and earth
—a provision which our vain-glorious great never
think of.
"Eat neither garlic nor onions, lest the smell


OF DON QUIXOTE. Ill
here are none to oppose you. My mother whips
me, and I whip the top. Here am I exhorting thee
to suppress thy proverbs, and in an instant thou hast
spewed forth a whole litany of them, which are as
foreign from the subject as an old ballad. Remem-
ber, Sancho, I do not say that a proverb properly
applied is amiss; but, to throw in, and string to-
gether old saws helter-skelter, renders conversation
altogether mean and despicable.
"When you appear on horseback, do not lean
backward over the saddle, nor stretch out your
legs stiffly from the horse's belly, nor let them hang
dangling in a slovenly manner, as if you were upon
the back of Dapple; for some ride like jockeys, and
some like gentlemen.
"Be very moderate in sleeping; for he who
does not rise with the sun cannot enjoy the day;
and observe, O Sancho, industry is the mother of
prosperity; and laziness, her opposite, never saw
the accomplishment of a good wish.
"This is all the advice, friend Sancho, that
occurs to me at present; hereafter, as occasions
offer, my instructions will be ready, provided thou
art mindful to inform me of the state of thy af-
fairs."
"Sir," answered Sancho, " I see very well that
all your worship has told me is wholesome and
profitable; but what shall I be the better for it if I
cannot keep it in my head? It is true, I shall not
easily forget what you have said about paring my


OF DON QUIXOTE. 115
"Not so, Sancho," answered Don Quixote;
"the fool knows nothing, either in his own or any
other house; for knowledge is not to be erected
upon so bad a foundation as folly. But here let it
rest, Sancho, for, if thou governest ill, though the
fault will be thine, the shame will be mine. How-
ever, I am comforted in having given thee the best
counsel in my power; and therein having done my
duty, I am acquitted both of my obligation and
promise: so God speed thee, Sancho, and govern
thee in thy government, and deliver me from the
fears I entertain that thou wilt turn the whole
island topsy-turvy !—which, indeed, I might pre-
vent by letting the duke know what thou art, and
telling him that all that paunch-gut and little car-
cass of thine is nothing but a sack full of proverbs
and impertinence."
"Signor," replied Sancho, "if your worship
really thinks I am not qualified for that govern-
ment, I renounce it from henceforward forever,
amen. I have a greater regard for a nail's breadth
of my soul than my whole body; and I can sub-
sist, as bare Sancho, upon a crust of bread and an
onion, as well as governor on capons and par-
tridges; for, while we sleep, great and small, rich
and poor, are equal all. If your worship will con-
sider, your worship will find that you yourself put
this scheme of government into my head: as for
my own part, I know no more of the matter than a
bustard; and, if you think the governorship will be


OF DON QUIXOTE. ll"J
them to cobble their shoes, and wear upon their
coats one button of silk, another of hair, and a
third of glass? Why must their ruffs be generally
yellow and ill-starched?" (By the by, from this
circumstance we learn the antiquity of ruffs and
starch.) But, thus he proceeds: "O wretched
man of noble pedigree! who is obliged to admin-
ister cordials to his honor, in the midst of hunger
and solitude, by playing the hypocrite with a tooth-
pick, which he affects to use in the street, though
he has eat nothing to require that act of cleanli-
ness: wretched he, I say, whose honor is ever
apt to be startled, and thinks that everybody at a
league's distance observes the patch upon his shoe,
his greasy hat, and his threadbare cloak, and even
the hunger that consumes him."
Better a blush on the face than a stain in the
heart.
Look not in last year's nests for this year's
birds.
A SERENADE.
And he forthwith imagined that some damsel
belonging to the duchess had become enamoured of
him: though somewhat fearful of the beautiful foe,
he resolved to fortify his heart, and on no account
to yield; so, commending himself with fervent de-
votion to his mistress, Dulcinea del Toboso, he
determined to listen to the music; and, to let the
damsel know he was there, he gave a feigned sneeze,


118
WIT AND WISDOM
at which they were not a little pleased, as they de-
sired above all things that he should hear them.
The harp being now tuned, Altisidora began the
following song :
JARVIS'S TRANSLATION.
Wake, sir knight, now love's invading,
Sleep in Holland sheets no more ;
When a nymph is serenading,
'Tis an arrant shame to snore.
Hear a damsel tall and tender,
Moaning in most rueful guise,
With heart almost burned to cinder
By the sunbeams of thine eyes.
To free damsels from disaster
Is, they say, your daily care:
Can you then deny a plaster
To a wounded virgin here?
Tell me, doughty youth, who cursed thee
With such humors and ill-luck ?
Was't some sullen bear dry-nursed thee,
Or she-dragon gave thee suck?
Dulcinea, that virago,
Well may brag of such a Cid,
Now her fame is up, and may go
From Toledo to Madrid.
Would she but her prize surrender,
(Judge how on thy face I dote !)


120 WIT AND WISDOM
I've a bob nose has no fellow,
And a sparrow's mouth as rare:
Teeth like bright topazes, yellow;
Yet I'm deemed a beauty here.
You know what a rare musician
(If you hearken) courts your choice;
I dare say my disposition
Is as taking as my voice.
Here ended the song of the amorous Altisidora,
and began the alarm of the courted Don Quixote;
who, fetching a deep sigh, said within himself:
"Why am I so unhappy a knight-errant that no
damsel can see but she must presently fall in love
with me? Why is the peerless Dulcinea so un-
lucky that she must not be suffered singly to enjoy
this my incomparable constancy? Queens, what
would ye have with her? Empresses, why do ye
persecute her? Damsels from fourteen to fifteen,
why do ye plague her? Leave, leave the poor
creature; let her triumph and glory in the lot which
love bestowed upon her in the conquest of my
heart, and the surrender of my soul. Take notice,
enamoured multitude, that to Dulcinea alone I am
paste and sugar, and to all others flint. To her
I am honey, and to the rest of ye, aloes. To me,
Dulcinea alone is beautiful, discreet, lively, modest,
and well-born; all the rest of her sex foul, foolish,
fickle, and base-born. To be hers, and hers alone,
nature sent me into the world. Let Altisidora


i22 WIT AND WISDOM
If you're idle, you're destroyed,
All his art on you he tries;
But be watchful and employed,"
Straight the baffled tempter flies.
Maids for modest grace admired,
If they would their fortunes raise,
Must in silence live retired:
'Tis their virtue speaks their praise.
The divine Tobosan fair,
Dulcinea, claims me whole;
Nothing can her image tear;
'Tis one substance with my soul.
Then let fortune smile or frown,
Nothing shall my faith remove;
Constant truth, the lover's crown,
Can work miracles in love.
THE SAME AS TRANSLATED BY SMOLLETT.
Love, with idleness combined,
Will unhinge the tender mind:
But to few, to work and move,
Will exclude the force of love.
Blooming maids that would be married,
Must in virtue be unwearied:
Modesty a dower will raise,
And be a trumpet of their praise.
A cavalier will sport and play
With a damsel frank and gay;


OF DON QUIXOTE. 12^
But, when wedlock is his aim,
Choose a maid of sober fame.
Passion kindled in the breast,
By a stranger or a guest,
Enters with the rising sun,
And fleets before his race be run:
Love that comes so suddenly,
Ever on the wing to fly,
Neither can nor will impart
Strong impressions to the heart.
Pictures drawn on pictures, show
Strange confusion to the view:
Second beauty finds no base,
Where a first has taken place:
Then Dulcinea still shall reign
Without a rival or a stain;
Nor shall fate itself control
Her sway, or blot her from my soul:
Constancy, the lover's boast,
I'll maintain whate'er it cost:
This, my virtue will refine;
This will stamp my joys divine.
THE SAME AS TRANSLATED BY JARVIS.
Love, with idleness is friend,
O'er a maiden gains its end:
But let business and employment
Fill up every careful moment;
These an antidote will prove
'Gainst the pois'nous arts of love.


124 WIT AND WISDOM
Maidens that aspire to marry,
In their looks reserve should carry:
Modesty their price should raise,
And be the herald of their praise.
Knights, whom toils of arms employ,
With the free may laugh and toy;
But the modest only choose
When they tie the nuptial noose.
Love that rises with the sun,
With his setting beams is gone:
Love that guest-like visits hearts,
When the banquet's o'er, departs:
And the love that comes to-day,
And to-morrow wings its way,
Leaves no traces on the soul,
Its affections to control.
Where a sovereign beauty reigns,
Fruitless are a rival's pains—
O'er a finished picture who ,
E'er a second picture drew?
Fair Dulcinea, queen of beauty,
Rules my heart, and claims its duty,
Nothing there can take her place,
Naught her image can erase.
Whether fortune smile or frown,
Constancy's the lover's crown;
And, its force divine to prove,
Miracles performs in love.
Copious drinking consumes the radical moist-
ure which is the essence of life.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 125
Simple medicines are more esteemed than those
that are compound: in the simple, there can be no
mistake; in the compound, all is hazard and un-
certainty.
If we must be prepared for battles that threaten
us, at least let us be well fed: for the stomach sup-
ports the heart, and the heart supports the man.
The devil will never give you a high nose if a
flat nose will serve your turn.
All is not gold that glitters.
Walls have ears.
I am fully convinced that judges and governors
are, or ought to be, made of brass, so as that they
may not feel the importunity of people of business,
who expect to be heard and dispatched at all hours
and at all seasons, come what will, attending only
to their own affairs; and if the poor devil of a judge
does not hear and dispatch them, either because it
is not in his power, or it happens to be an unsea-
sonable time for giving audience, then they grumble
and backbite, gnaw him to the very bones, and even
bespatter his whole generation. Ignorant man of
business! foolish man of business! be not in such a
violent hurry; wait for the proper season and con-
juncture, and come not at meals and sleeping-time;
for judges are made of flesh and blood, and must
give to nature that which nature requires.


126 WIT AND WISDOM
Good physicians deserve palms and laurels.
Either we are, or we are not.
Let us all live and eat together in harmony and
good friendship.
When God sends the morning, the light shines
upon all.
Make yourselves honey, and the flies will de-
vour you.
Your idle and lazy people in a commonwealth,
are like drones in a beehive, which only devour the
honey the laboring bees gather.
Every day produces something new in the world:
jests turn into earnest, and the biters are bit.
They who expect snacks should be modest, and
take cheerfully whatever is given them, and not
haggle with the winners; unless they know them
to be sharpers, and their gains unfairly gotten.
Cheats are always at the mercy of their accom-
plices.
The maid that would keep her good name,
stays at home as if she were lame. A hen and a
housewife, whatever they cost, if once they go gad-
ding will surely be lost. And she that longs to see,
I ween, is as desirous to be seen.
Seeing is believing.
Good fortune wants only a beginning.


128 WIT AND WISDOM
agreeably disappointed with news of thy wise be-
havior; for which I return thanks to Heaven, that
can raise the lowest from their poverty, and turn
the fool into a man of sense. I hear thou governest
with all discretion; and that, nevertheless, thou
retainest the humility of the meanest creature. But
I would observe to thee, Sancho, that it is often
expedient and necessary, for the due support of
authority, to act in contradiction to the humility
of the heart. The personal adornments of one that
is raised to a high situation must correspond with
his present greatness, and not with his former low-
liness: let thy apparel, therefore, be good and be-
coming; for the hedgestake, when decorated no
longer, appears what it really is. I do not mean
that thou shouldst wear jewels, or finery; nor, being
a judge, would I have thee dress like a soldier; but
adorn thyself in a manner suitable to thy employ-
ment. To gain the good-will of thy people, two
things, among others, thou must not fail to ob-
serve: one is, to be courteous to all—that, indeed,
I have already told thee; the other is, to take
especial care that the people be exposed to no
scarcity of food; for, with the poor, hunger is,
of all afflictions, the most insupportable. Publish
few edicts, but let those be good; and, above all,
see that they are well observed; for edicts that are
not kept are the same as not made, and serve only
to show that the prince, though he had wisdom and
authority to make them, had not the courage to


OF DON QUIXOTE. 120,
insist upon their execution. Laws that threaten,
and are not enforced, become like King Log, whose
croaking subjects first feared, then despised him.
Be a father to virtue, and a step-father to vice. Be
not always severe, nor always mild; but choose the
happy mean between them, which is the true point
of discretion. Visit the prisons, the shambles, and
the markets; for there the presence of the governor
is highly necessary: such attention is a comfort to
the prisoner hoping for release; it is a terror to the
butchers, who then dare not make use of false
weights; and the same effect is produced on all
other dealers. Shouldst thou unhappily be secretly
inclined to avarice, to gluttony, or women, which I
hope thou art not, avoid showing thyself guilty of
these vices: for, when those who are concerned
with thee discover thy ruling passion, they will
assault thee on that quarter, nor leave thee till they
have effected thy destruction. View and review,
consider and reconsider, the counsels and docu-
ments I gave thee in writing before thy departure
hence to thy government; and in them thou wilt
find a choice supply to sustain thee through the toils
and difficulties which governors must continually
encounter. Write to thy patrons, the duke and
duchess, and show thyself grateful; for ingratitude
is the daughter of pride, and one of the greatest
sins; whereas he who is grateful to those that
have done him service, thereby testifies that he will
be grateful also to God, his constant benefactor.


OF DON QUIXOTE. I3I
rose from table, and calling the secretary, went
without any further delay, and locked himself up
with him in his chamber, to write an answer to his
master, Don Quixote, which was as follows:
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 ill with 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 vict-
uals 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


OF DON QUIXOTE. 133
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 and children. 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 Doc-
tor 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 like to
have dropped down dead with pure pleasure; for
thou knowest they say sudden joy kills as well as
deadly sorrow: thy daughter Sanchica scattered her


I36 WIT AND WISDOM
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 per-
petual 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 with-
out that of faith, many have discovered the swift-
ness 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.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 137
The prudent man who is expecting to be de-
prived 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.
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.
As is the reason,
• Such is the season.
Let no man presume to think,
Of this cup I will not drink:
Where the flitch we hoped 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 resign his office in good circum-
stances, people say he must have been an oppressor
and a knave; and if poverty attends him in his re-
treat, 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."
'


I38 WIT AND WISDOM
A law neglected is the same as if it had never
been enacted.
Give always to the cat
What was kept for the rat,
And let it be thy. view
All 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 am
As any lamb,
And harmless as a dove.
Thy cruel scorn
Has left forlorn
A nymph whose charms may vie
With theirs who sport
In 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!


OF DON QUIXOTE.
139
Like ravenous kite
That takes its flight
Soon as't has stoln a chicken,
Thou bear'st away
My heart, thy prey,
And leav’st me here to sicken.
Three night-caps, too,
And garters blue,
That did to legs belong
Smooth to the sight
As marble white,
And faith, almost as strong.
Two thousand groans,
As many moans,
And sighs enough to fire
Old 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'er
His buttocks bare
Fly-fap, as is his duty;
And thou still want
To disenchant
Dulcinea's injured beauty.
May still transformed,
And still deformed,
Toboso's nymph remain,


140
WIT AND WISDOM
In recompense
Of thy offence,
Thy scorn and cold disdain.
When thou dost wield
Thy sword in field,
In combat, or in quarrel,
Ill-luck and harms
Attend 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 disgrace
Fill every place,
Thy falsehood ne'er be hid,
But round the world
Be tossed and hurled,
From Seville to Madrid.
If, brisk and gay,
Thou sitt'st to play
At ombre or at chess,
May ne'er spadille
Attend thy will,
Nor luck thy movements bless.
Though thou with care
Thy corns dost pare,
May blood the penknife follow;
May thy gums rage,
And naught assuage
The pain of tooth that's hollow.


OF DON QUIXOTE. 143
modesty, liberality, and courtesy; and all these
qualities may be found in one who has no per-
sonal attractions; and when that species of beauty
captivates, it produces a vehement and superior
passion. I well know, Sancho, that I am not hand-
some; but I know also that I am not deformed;
and a man of worth, if he be not hideous, may in-
spire 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 my desire 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 af-
fords a 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.


144 WIT AND WISDOM
There is no greater folly than to give way to
despair.
Patience often falls to the ground when it is
overloaded 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 circuitous ways, 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 medi-
cines prescribed to him by his physician. You are
sick; you know your malady, and God, our physi-
cian, is ready with medicines that, in time, will cer-
tainly effect a cure. Eesides, sinners of good un-
derstanding are nearer to amendment than those


I46 WIT AND WISDOM
progress you have made, signor, in the Tuscan lan-
guage! I would venture a good wager that where
the Tuscan says piace, you say, in Castilian, plaze;
and where he says piu, you say mas; and su you
translate by the word arriba; and giu by abaxo."
"I do so, most certainly," quoth the author;
"for such are the corresponding words."
"And yet, I dare say, sir," quoth Don Quix-
ote, "that you are scarcely known in the world—
but it is the fate of all ingenious men. What abili-
ties 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 presenting the 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 agree-
able 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 cele-
brated 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


I48 WIT AND WISDOM
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 nea/1 ^o- 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 done
A 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 misfor-
tunes 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


OF DON QUIXOTE. I49
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 grati-
tude. 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 re-
moved.
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


154 WIT AND WISDOM
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.
Delay breeds danger.
Pray to God devoutly,
And hammer away stoutly.
"I will give thee," is good; but "Here, take
it," is better.
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 to Sicut erat. Speak
plainly, as I have often told thee, and thou wilt find
it worth a loaf per cent, to thee."


OF DON QUIXOTE. I55
"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 pur-
pose—but I will try to mend."
The straw is too hard to make pipes of.
The knight and squire ascended a little emi-
nence, 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 vic-
tory! Money I have gotten, and though I have
been soundly banged, I have come off like a gentle-
man."
"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 like-
wise clapped the mitre on Dapple's head—in short,
never was an ass so honored and bedizened. The
priest and bachelor, immediately recognizing their
r


OF DON QUIXOTE. 159
"Gentlemen," said Don Quixote, "let us pro-
ceed fair and softly: I was mad, I am now sane;
I was Don 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 per-
sonal, after the payment of all my debts and lega-
cies; 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 pres-
ent.
"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 ac-
quainted with such books, and that my niece, not-
withstanding, will and doth marry him, then shall
she forfeit all I have bequeathed her, which my ex-
ecutors 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 dis-


l6o WIT AND WISDOM
persed 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 considera-
tion."
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 mod-
erates that affliction which an heir ought to feel at
the death of the testator.
At last Don Quixote expired, after having re-
ceived all the sacraments, and, in the strongest
terms, pathetically enforced, expressed his abomi-
nation 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 Chris-
tian, 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


'








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