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SANCHO came back to Don Quixote’s house, and turning to his former discourse said, ‘Touching what
Master Samson desired to know — who, how, and when mine ass was stolen — by way of answer I say, that the very same
night we fled from the hue-and-cry we entered Sierra Morena, after the unfortunate adventure of the galley-slaves
and the dead man that was carrying to Segovia. My master and I got us unto a thicket, where he leaning upon his
lance, and I upon my Dapple, both of us well bruised and wearied with the former skirmishes, we fell to sleep as
soundly as if we had been upon four feather-beds, especially I, that slept so soundly that he, whosoever he was,
might easily come and put me upon four stakes, which he had fastened upon both sides of my pack-saddle, upon which
he left me thus mounted, and, without perceiving it, got my Dapple from under me.’ ‘This was easy to be done,’ said
Don Quixote, ‘and no strange accident; for we read that the same happened to Sacripant, when, being at the siege of
Albraca, that famous thief Brunelo, with the selfsame sleight, got his horse from under his legs.’ Sancho proceeds:
‘It was light day,’ said he, ‘when I had scarce stretched myself, but the stakes failed, and I got a good squelch
upon the ground; then I looked for mine ass, but, not finding him, the tears came to mine eyes, and I made such
strange moan that, if the author of our history omitted it, let him be assured he forgot a worthy passage. I know
not how long after, coming with my lady the Princess Micomicona, I knew mine ass, and that he who rode on him in the
habit of a gypson was that Gines de Passamonte, that cheater, that arrant mischief-monger that my master and I freed
from the chain.’
‘The error was not in this,’ said Samson, ‘but that, before there was any news of your ass, the author still said
you were mounted upon the selfsame Dapple.’ ‘I know not what to say to that,’ quoth Sancho, ‘but that either the
historian was deceived, or else it was the carelessness of the printer.’ ‘Without doubt,’ saith Samson, ‘‘twas like
to be so. But what became of the pistolets? were they spent?’
‘I spent them upon myself’ quoth Sancho, ‘and on my wife and children, and they have been the cause that she hath
endured my journeys and careers which I have fetched in my master Don Quixote’s service; for if I should have
returned empty, and without mine ass, I should have been welcomed with a pox. And, if you will know any more of me,
here I am that will answer the king himself in person; and let nobody intermeddle to know whether I brought or
whether I brought not, whether I spent or spent not; for, if the blows that I have had in these voyages were to be
paid in money, though every one of them were taxed but at three-farthings apiece, an hundred pistolets more would
not pay me the half of them; and let every man look to himself and not take white for black, and black for white;
for every man is as God hath made him, and sometimes a great deal worse.’
‘Let me alone,’ quoth Carrasco, ‘for accusing the author of the history, that if he print it again he shall not
forget what Sancho hath said, which shall make it twice as good as it was.’ ‘Is there aught else, sir bachelor,’
said Don Quixote, ‘to be mended in this legend?’ ‘Yes, marry, is there,’ said he; ‘but nothing so important as what
hath been mentioned.’ ‘Perhaps the author promiseth a Second Part?’ quoth Don Quixote. ‘He doth,’ said Samson, ‘but
saith he neither finds nor knows who hath it, so that it is doubtful whether it will come out or no; so that partly
for this, and partly because some hold that Second Parts were never good, and others that there is enough written of
Don Quixote, it is doubted that there will be no Second Part, although some, more Jovial than Saturnists, cry out,
“Let’s have more Quixotisms: Let Don Quixote assault and Sancho speak, let the rest be what they will, this is
enough.”’ ‘And how is the author inclined?’
To which said Samson, ‘When he hath found this history, that he searcheth after with extraordinary diligence, he
will straight commit it to the press, rather for his profit, though, than for any other respect.’ To this said
Sancho, ‘What! doth the author look after money and gain? ‘Tis a wonder if he be in the right; rather he will be
like your false-stitching tailors upon Christmas Eves, for your hasty work is never well performed. Let that Master
Moor have a care of his business, for my master and I will furnish him with rubbish enough at hand, in matter of
adventures, and with such different successes that he may not only make one Second Part, but one Hundredth. The poor
fellow thinks, belike, that we sleep here in a hay-mow; well, let it come to scanning, and he shall see whether we
be defective. This I know, that if my master would take my counsel, he should now be abroad in the champian,
remedying grievances, rectifying wrongs, as good knights-errant are wont to do.’
No sooner had Sancho ended this discourse when the neighing of Rozinante came to his ears, which Don Quixote took to
be most auspicious, and resolved within three or four days after to make another sally, and, manifesting his mind to
the bachelor, asked his advice to know which way he should begin his journey; whose opinion was that he should go to
the kingdom of Aragon, and to the city of Saragosa, where not long after there were solemn Jousts to be held in
honour of St. George, wherein he might get more fame than all the knights of Aragon, which were above all other
knights. He praised his most noble and valiant resolution, but withal desired him to be more wary in attempting of
dangers, since his life was not his own, but all theirs also who needed his protection and succour in their
distress.
‘I renounce that, Master Samson,’ said Sancho, ‘for my master will set upon an hundred armed men as a boy would upon
half a dozen of young melons. Body of the world! sir bachelor, there is a time to attempt, a time to retire; all
must not be “Saint Jaques, and upon ‘em!”1 Besides, I have heard, and I believe from my master himself,
if I have not forgotten, that valour is a mean between the two extremes o a coward and a rash man; and, if this be
so, neither would I have him fly nor follow, without there be reason for it; but, above all, I wish that, if my
master carry me with him, it be upon condition that he fight for us both, and that I be tied to nothing but waiting
upon him, to look to his clothes and his diet, for this will I do as nimbly as bring him water; but to think that I
will lay hand to my sword, although it be but against base fellows and poor rascals, is most impossible. I, Master
Samson, strive not to hoard up a fame of being valiant, but of the best and trustiest squire that ever served
knight-errant; and if Don Quixote my master, obliged thereunto by my many services, will bestow any island upon me
of those many his worship saith we shall light upon, I shall be much bound to him; and, if he give me none, I was
born, and one man must not live to rely on another, but on God; and perhaps I shall be as well with a piece of bread
at mine ease as to be a governor; and what do I know whether, in these kinds of government, the devil hath set any
tripping-block before me where I may stumble and fall, and dash out my teeth? Sancho was I born, Sancho must I die.
But, for all that, if so and so, without any care or danger, Heaven should provide some island for me, or any
such-like thing, I am not so very an ass as to refuse it, according to the proverb, “Look not a given horse in the
mouth.”’
‘Friend Sancho,’ quoth Carrasco, ‘you have spoken like an oracle; notwithstanding, trust in God and Master Don
Quixote, that he will give you not only an island, but a kingdom too.’ ‘I think one as well as t’other,’ quoth
Sancho, ‘and let me tell you, Master Samson,’ said Sancho, ‘I think my master’s kingdom would not be bestowed on me
in vain; for I have felt mine own pulse, and find myself healthy enough to rule kingdoms and govern islands, and
thus I have told my master many times.’
‘Look ye, Sancho,’ quoth Samson, ‘honours change manners, and perhaps, when you are once a governor, you may scarce
know your own mother.’ ‘That’s to be understood,’ said Sancho, ‘of them that are basely born, and not of those that
have on their souls four fingers fat of the old Christian; as I have.2 No, but come to my condition,
which will be ungrateful to nobody.’ ‘God grant it,’ quoth Don Quixote, ‘and we shall see when the government comes;
for methinks I have it before mine eyes.’ Which said, he asked the bachelor whether he were a poet, and that he
would do him the favour to make him some verses, the subject of his farewell to his mistress Dulcinea del Toboso,
and withal that at the beginning of every verse he should put a letter of her name, that so, joining all the first
letters, there might be read Dulcinea del Toboso. The bachelor made answer that, though he were none of the famous
poets of Spain, which they said were but three and an half, yet he would not refuse to compose the said metre,
although he found a great deal of difficulty in the composition, because there were seventeen letters in the name;
and if he made four staves, of each four verses, that there would be a letter too much; and if he made them of five,
which they call decimi, there would be three too little; but for all that he would see if he could drown a letter,
so in four staves there might be read Dulcinea del Toboso. ‘By all means,’ quoth Don Quixote, ‘let it be so; for, if
the name be not plain and conspicuous, there is no woman will believe the metre was composed for her.’
Upon this they agreed, and that eight days after their departure should be. Don Quixote enjoined the bachelor to
keep it secret, especially from the vicar and Master Nicholas,3 his niece, and the old woman, lest they
should disturb his noble and valiant resolution. Carrasco assured him, and so took leave, charging Don Quixote he
should let him hear of all his good or bad fortune at his best leisure. So they took leave, and Sancho went to
provide for their journey.
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