THREE days and three nights was Don Quixote with Roque, and had he been so three hundred years he
should not have wanted matter to make him see and admire his kind of life. One while here they lie; another, there
they dine. Sometimes they fly from they know not whom; otherwhile, they wait for they know not whom. They sleep
standing, a broken sleep, changing from place to place: all was setting of spies, listening of sentinels, blowing
musket-matches, though of such shot they had but few, most of them carrying petronels. Roque himself slept apart
from the rest, not letting them know where he lodged; because the many proclamations which the Viceroy of Barcelona
had caused to be made to take him made him unquiet and’ fearful, and so he durst trust nobody, fearing his own
people would either kill or deliver him to the justice; a life indeed wretched and irksome. At length, by byways and
cross-paths, Roque and Don Quixote got to the wharf of Barcelona, where Roque gave Sancho the ten crowns he promised
him, and so they parted with many compliments on both parts.
Roque returned, and Don Quixote stayed there, expecting the day just as he was on horseback; and awhile after, the
face of the white Aurora began to peep through the bay-windows of the east, cheering the herbs and flowers, instead
of delighting the ear, and yet at the same instant a noise of hautboys and drums delighted their ears, and a noise
of morris-bells, with a pat-a-pat of horsemen running, to see to, out of the city.
Aurora now gave the sun leave to rise out of the lowest part of the east, with his face as big as a buckler. Don
Quixote and Sancho spread their eyes round about, and they might see the sea, which till that time they had never
seen; it seemed unto them most large and spacious, more by far than the lake of Ruydera, which the saw in the
Mancha; they beheld the galleys in the wharf, who, clapping down their tilts, discovered themselves full of flags
and streamers, that waved in the wind, and kissed and swept the water; within, the clarines, trumpets, and hautboys
sounded, that far and near filled the air with sweet and warlike accents; they began to move, and to make show of
skirmish upon the gentle water; a world of gallants answering them on land, which came out of the city upon goodly
horses, and brave in their liveries. The soldiers of the galleys discharged an infinite of shot, which were answered
from the walls and forts of the city, and the great shot with fearful noise cut the air, which were answered with
the galleys’ forecastle cannons; the sea was cheerful, the land jocund, the sky clear, only somewhat dimmed with the
smoke of the artillery; it seemed to infuse and engender a sudden delight in all men. Sancho could not imagine how
those bulks that moved upon the sea could have so many feet.
By this, they ashore in the rich liveries began to run on with their Moorish outcries, even to the very place where
Don Quixote was wondering and amazed; and one of them, he who had the letter from Roque, said to Don Quixote thus
aloud, ‘Welcome to our city is the looking-glass, the lanthorn, and north-star of all knight-errantry, where it is
most in practice! Welcome, I say, is the valorous Don Quixote de la Mancha; not the false, fictitious, or
apocryphal, that hath been demonstrated to us of late in false histories; but the true, legal, and faithful he,
which Cid Hamet, the flower of historians, describes unto us!’ Don Quixote answered not a word, neither did the
gentlemen expect he should; but, turning in and out with the rest, they wheeled about Don Quixote, who, turning to
Sancho, said, ‘These men know us well; I lay a wager they have read our history, and that, too, of the Aragonian’s
The gentleman that spoke to Don Quixote came back again, and said to him, ‘Signior Don Quixote, come with us, I
beseech you, for we are all your servants, and Roque Guinart’s dear friends.’ To which Don Quixote replied, ‘If
courtesies engender courtesies, then yours, sir knight, is daughter or near kindred to Roque’s; carry me whither you
will, for I am wholly yours, and at your service, if you please to command me.’ In the like courtly strain the
gentleman answered him, and so, locking him in the midst of them, with sound of drums and hautboys, they carried him
towards the city, where at his entrance, as ill luck would have it, and the boys that are the worst of all ill, two
of them, bold crackropes, came among the thrust, and one of them lifting up Dapple’s tail, and the other
Rozinante’s, they fastened each their handful of nettles. The poor beasts felt the new spurs, and, clapping their
tails close, augmented their pains; so that, after a thousand winces, they cast down their masters.
Don Quixote, all abashed and disgraced, went to take this plumage from his courser’s tail, and Sancho from Dapple’s.
Those that guided Don Quixote would have punished the boys for their sauciness, but it was not possible, for they
got themselves into the thickest of a thousand others that followed. Don Quixote and Sancho returned to their seats,
and with the same applause and music they came to their guide’s house, which was fair and large indeed, as was fit
for a gentleman of means, where we will leave him for the present, because Cid Hamet will have it so.