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The Unfortunate Adventure of the Merchants.

Don QUIXOTE carry'd home vpon an Ass.

Tome. 1.

ceiv'd them, but he imagin'd it to be fome new Adven-. ture; and because he would imitare as much as poffible the paffages he had read in his Books, he reprefented this to himself, to be juft fuch an Archievment as he had pu pofed to undertake; wherefore with graceful gefture and refolution, he fettled himfelf on his Stirrops, put his Lance into its reft, and grafp'd bis Target, when placing himself in the midit of the way, he ftood waiting for thofe Knights Errant to corre up, for now he judged and took them for fuch; and when they were fo near that they might hear and fee him, he lifted up his Voice and faid, Let all the World ftand and pafs ne further, if all the 'World be not difpofed to confefs, that there is not in all the World a more beautiful Damfel than the Empress of la Mancha, the peerless Dulcinea del Tobofo. At thefe words the Merchants stop'd to view the ftrange Figure that spoke to them, and by it foon difcover'd the Man was Mad; however, they were refolv'd to wait the event of the acknowledgment he demanded of them, when one of them who naturally lov'd a Jeft, but was difcreet enough not to push things to extremity, faid to him, Sir Knight, we do not know that good Lady you speak of; few her therefore unto us, and if she be Jo beautiful as you affirm, we will willingly and without any compulfion confefs the truth you now demand of us. If I fhew'd her to you, (reply'd Don Quixate)' what merit were it in you to acknowledge fo palpable a 'truth; the Point is, that without having a fight of her you muft believe, acknowledge, affirm, fwear to, and defend it; which if you refufe to do, I challenge you all to Battel, proud and unreasonable Knights; and whether you come one 'by one (as the Order of Knighthood requires) or all at once, 'as is the custom and difhonourable practice of Men of your 'Brood, here will I expect and wait you all, trufting in the 'Juftice I have on my fide. Sir Knight, reply'd the Merchant, I request you in all thefe Princes Names, as many as we are bere, that to the end we may not burthen our Confciences, by confeffing a thing we never beheld or heard, and chiefly by its being fo prejudicial to the Empreffes and Queens of the Kingdoms of Alcarria and Eftremadura, that you will pleafe to fhew us fome pertraiture of this Lady, tho' it be no bigger than a grain of Wheat; for by one Thread we may be able to judge of the whole Clue, and thus we fhall be fatisfyed and eafy, and you will reap the fatisfaction you expect; nay, I am apt to believe we are already fo far inclin'd to your fide, that tho' her Picture fhew'd her to be blind of one Eye, and that from the other ran Vermilion and Brimftone, yet to please you we fhould fay all you could defire in her behalf. There runs not, base Varlets, (quoth Don Quixote,burning with Rage and

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'Anger,)

Anger,) there runs not from her what ye have spoken, but ra'ther Amber and Civer upon Cotton; and the is not blind of one Eye, but straighter than a Spindle of Guadarama : but all of you together fhall pay for this great Blafphemy thou haft utter'd against fo immenfe a Beauty, as is that of my Mi'ftrefs. This faid, he ran fo furioufly at him who spoke the Words with his Lance, that if good Fortune had not order'd it that Rozinante fhould ftumble and fall in the midft of his Carreer, the bold Merchant had far'd but ill. Rozinante then fell, and his Mafter rowl'd along a confiderable part of the Field, who tho' he attempted often to rife, yet was not able, being fo incumber'd with his Lance, Target, Spurs, Helmet, and weighty old Armour. But whilft he ftrove to get up, and could not, he frequently cried out Flie not cowardly wretches, a bide bafe People, abide; for I lie not here through my own, but the Imperfections of my Horfe.

One of the Muletiers that came in the Company, and seem'd not to be well inclin'd, hearing the poor overthrown Knight pronounce fuch infolent words, could not forbear returning him an Answer on his Ribs; therefore drawing near to him he took up his Lance, and having broke it in pieces, with one of them laid him on fo luftily, that in defpight of his Armour, he thrash'd him like a Wheat-fheaf His Mafters cry'd out to him to forbear, and to leave him; but the Lad's Hand was in, and he would not leave the sport, 'till he had fully discharg'd his fury; therefore running for the other pieces of the Lance, he would not defift till he had broke them all on the miferable Knight's back, who, for all the tempeft of Blows that showr'd on him, never shut his Mouth, but threatned Heaven and Earth, and thofe vile Mifcreants, for fuch they feem'd to him to be. The Muletier being at length tir'd, the Merchants proceeded on their way, well furnish'd with Matter for Difcourfe during their Journey, at the coft of the poor belabour'd Knight, who when he found himself alone, made fresh Efforts to rife, but fince he could not compass it when whole and found, how was it poffible he should do it, when bruiz'd and almost beaten to pieces; yet he accounted himself happy, looking upon his Miffortune as proper to Knights Errant, and therefore charg'd his Horfe with the whole fault; but there was no poffibility of his rifing his Body was fo batter'd.

* As ftrait as a Spindle is a Spanish fimile, and Guadarama is a noted place for making them.

CHAP.

CHAP. V.

Continuing the Relation of our Knight's Miffortunes.

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T length perceiving he could not ftir, he refolved to have recourfe to his ordinary remedy, which was to think on fome paffage of his Hiftories; when inftantly his Folly prefented to his memory that of Valdovinos, and the Marquefs of Mantua, when Carloto left him wounded on the Mountain. A Story known to Children, not forgotten by young Men, much celebrate, nay, and believed by many Old, and for all that, no truer than Mahomer's Miracles.

This Story feem'd to him to come pat to his purpose; therefore he began, with figns of great pain, to tumble up and down, and in a weak Voice, to utter the fame words that wounded Knight of the Wood is feign'd to have spoken.

Ah! Where, dear Lady, doft thou go,
That griev'ft not at my smart?
My fufferings fure thou doft not know,
Or thou perfidious art.

And thus he went on with the Old Song, 'till he came to these words, O Noble Marquefs of Mantua, my carnal Lord and Uncle; when, as good luck would have it, a labouring Man of his own Village, and his Neighbour, hap pen'd to come by from carrying a Load of Wheat to the Mill, who beholding one ftretched on the ground, came up to him, and ask'd who he was, and what had caufed him to complain fo dolefully? Don Quixote verily believed it to be his Uncle, the Marquefs of Mantua; therefore made him no Answer, only went on with the repetition of his old Ballad, which gave an account of his misfortune, and the love the Emperour's Son bore his Spouse, all after the very fame manner the Ballad recounts it. The labourer was aftonished to hear these Follies, when taking off his Beaver, that with the Muletier's Blows had been broken all to pieces he wiped his Face that was full of duft,which he had scarce done but he knew him, to whom he faid; Mafter Quixada (for fo he was probably called while he had his Wits, and before he left the ftate of a ftaid Gentleman to become a wandring Knight) who

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Tome I, bas ufed you thus fcurvily? But Don Quixote continued his Song, answering out of it, to every queftion was put him. Which the good Man perceiving, difarmed him the beft he could, to find whether he had any Wound, but could fee no Blood, or any token of hurt about him. Then he endeavoured to raise him from the ground, which he at laft accomplish'd with much trouble; and fo mounted him on his Afs, as a Beast of eafieft carriage. Next he gathered up all his Arms,and left not behind fo much as the Splinters of his Lance,which done he tied them all together upon Rozinante, whom taking by the Bridle; and the Als by his Halter, he led them both in that Equipage fair and foftly towards his Village, being very thoughtful by the way as reflecting on the ravings of Don Quixote, who was no less Melancholy, being fo beaten and bruifed, that he could hardly keep himself upon the Afs; and ever and anon he would breath forth fuch grievous fighs, as feem'd to reach Heaven, which mov'd his kind Neighbour to intreat him again to declare to him the cause of his grief. Now one would have thought the Devil himself had brought into his memory Stories fuitable to his Adventures; for that very moment forgetting Valdovinos, he bethought himself of the Moor Abinda raez, when the Conftable of Antequera, Roderigo Narvaez, took and carried him Prisoner to his Caftle. So that when his Neighbour ask'd him again How be far'd, and what he ail'd; he answer'd in the very fame Words and Sentences the Captive Abencerrage did to Narvaez, juft as he had read in the Diana of Montemayor, where the Story is written, applying them fa properly to his purpose, that the Labourer wish'd himself at the Devil for ftaying to hear fuch a multitude of Nonsense; whence he inferr'd that his Neighbour must be distracted, and therefore made hafte to get him to the Village, to rid himself of the vexation of his tedious Harangue. After this the Knight faid, 'Don Roderigo of Narvaez, you must understand that this 'beautiful Xarifa, of whom I fpoke, is now the fair Dulcinea del Tobofo, for whom I have done, ftill do, and will do the moft famous Acts of Chivalry that ever have been, are, and fhall be known in all the World. To which his Neighbour reply'd, Don't you perceive, Sir, Sinner that I am, that I am neither Don Roderigo de Narvaez, nor the Marquess of Mantua, but Peter Alonso your Neighbour; nor that you are neither Valda vinos, nor Abindaraez, but the koneft Gentleman, Mafter Quixa da. 'I know very well who I am, quoth Don Quixote, and I 'know too that I am not only capable of being all these I nam'd, but even all the Twelye Peers of France; nay, the pine WorL thies

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