CHAP. II. Of the first Sally that Don-Quixote made to seek Adventures. T Hings being thus ordered, he would defer the execution of his de signes no longer, being spur'd on the more vehemently, by the want which he esteemed his delayes wrought in the World, according to the wrongs that he resolved to right, the harmes he meant to re dresse, the excesses he would amend, the abuses that he would better, and the debts he would satisfie. And therefore without acquainting any living creature with his intentions he, unseen of any, upon a certain Morning, somewhat before the day (being one of the warmest of Iuly ) Armed himself Cap a pie, mounted on Rozinante, laced on his ill-contrived Helmet, imbraced his Target, took his Launce, and by a Postern door of his base-Court issued out to the Field, marveilous jocund and content to see with what facility he had commenced his good desires. But scarce had he sallied to the Fields, when he was suddainly assaulted by a terrible thought, and such a one as did well nigh overthrow his former good purposes; which was, he remembred he was not yet dub'd Knight; and therefore by the Laws of Knighthood, neither could nor ought to Combat with any Knight. And though he were one, yet ought he to weare white Armour like a new Knight, without any device in his shield untill he did win it by force of Arms. These thoughts did make him stagger in his purposes; but his follies prevailing more then any other reason, he purposed to cause himself to be Knighted by the first he met, to the imitation of many others that did the same, as he had read in the books which distracted him. As touching white Armour, he resolved with the first oportunity, to scower his own so well, that they should rest whiter then Ermines: And thus he pacified his minde and prosecuted his Journey, without chusing any other way then that which his horse pleased, believing that therein consisted the vigor of Knightly adven tures. Our burnish'd Adventurer travelling thus onward, did parle with himself in this manner: Who doubts in the ensuing Ages, when the true History of my famous Acts shall come to light, but that the wise man who shall write it, will begin it, when he comes to declare this my first Sally so early in the morning, after this manner? Scarce had the ruddy Apollo spread over the face of the vast and spacious earth the golden twists of his beautyfull hairs; and scarce had the little enameld Birds with their naked tongues saluted with sweet and mellistuous [Mellodious] harmony, the arri vall of Ros • e Aurora; when abandoning her jealous husbands soft Couch, she shews her self to mortall wights through the gates and windows of the Manchegall Orizon, [His Countrey the Mancha.] When the famous Knight Don-Quixote of the Man cha, abandoning the slothfull plumes, did mount upon his renowned Horse Rozinante, and began to travell through the ancient and known Fields of Moh ••• l, (as indeed he did) and following still on with his discourse, he said: O! happy the age, and for tunate the time, wherein my famous feats shall be revealed, feats worthy to be graven in Brasse, carved in Marble, and delivered with most curious Art in Tables, for a future instruction and memory. And, thou wise Enchanter, whosoever thou beest, whom it shall concern to be the Chronicler of this strange History, I desire thee not to forget my good horse Rozinante, mine eternall and inseparable Companion in all my Journies and Courses. And then, as if he were verily enamoured, he said, O Prin cesse Dulcinea, Lady of this captive heart, much wrong hast thou done me by dis missing me, and reproaching me with the rigorous Decree and Commandement, Not to appear before thy beauty: I pray thee, sweet Lady, deign to remember thee of this poor subjected heart, that for thy Love suffers so many tortures. And with these words he inserted a thousand other ravings, all after the very same manner that his books taught him, imitating as neer as he could, their very phrase and language, and did ride there withall so slow a pace, and the Sun did mount so swiftly, and with so great heat, as it was sufficient to melt his brains if he had had any left. He travelled almost all that day without encountring any thing worthy the reci tall, which made him to fret for anger: for he desired to encounter presently some one, upon whom he might make tryall of his invincible strength. Some Authors write, that his first adventure was that of the L • picean straits; others, that of the Winde-mills: But what I could only finde out in this affair, and which I have found written in the Annals of the Mancha is, that he travelled all that day long, and at night both he and his Horse were tyred, and marvellously prest by hunger, and looking about him on every side, to see whether he could discover any Castle or Sheep-fold, wherein he might retire himself for that night, and remedy his wants; he perceived an Inn neer unto the high-way, wherein he travelled, which was as welcome a sight to him as if he had seen a Star that did addresse him to the Porch, if not to the Palace of his redemption. Then spurring his horse, he hyed all he might towards it, and arrived much about night fall. There stood by chance at the Inn door, two young women Adventurers likewise, which travelled toward Sivill with certain Carriers, and did by chance take up their lodging in that Inn the same evening; and for as much as our Knight Errant esteemed all which hee thought, saw, or imagined, was done or did really passe in the very same form, as he had read the like in his books; forthwith as soon as he espied the Vent, he feigned to himself that it was a Castle with four Turrets, whereof the Pinacles were of glistring silver, without omitting the draw-Bridge, deep Fosse, and other adherents be longing to the like places: And approaching by little and little to the Vent, when he drew neer to it, checking Rozin • nte with the bridle, he rested a while to see whether any Dwarf would mount on the battlements to give warning with the sound of a Trumpet, how some Knight did approach the Castle: but seeing they staid so long, and also that Rozinante kept a colle to goe to his Stable, he went to the Inn door, and there beheld the two loose Baggages that stood at it, whom he presently supposed to be two beau tifull Damze • s or lovely Ladies, that did solace themselves before the Castle gates. And in this space it befell by chance, that a certain Swine heard as he gathered together his Hogs, blew the horne, whereat they are wont to come together; and instantly Don-Quixote imagined, it was what he desired, to wit, some Dwarf who gave notice of his arrivall; and therefore with marveilous satisfaction of minde he approached to the Inn and Ladies; who beholding one Armed in that manner to draw so neer, with his Launce and Target, they made much haste, being greatly affrighted, to get to their lodging. But Don-Quixote perceiving their fear by their flight, lifting up his pasted Beaver, and discovering his withered and dusty countenance, did accost them with gen tle demeanor and grave words in this manner: Let not your Ladyships flie, nor fear any outrage; for to the order of Knighthood which I doe professe, it toucheth nor appertaineth not to wrong any body, and least of all such worthy Damzels as your presences denote you to be. The wenches looked on him very earnestly, and did search with their eyes for the visage, which his ill-fashioned Beaver did conceal: but when they heard themselves termed damzels, a thing so far from their profession, they could not contain ther laughter, which was so loud, as Don-Quixote waxed ashamed thereat; and therefore said to them; Modesty is a comely ornament of the beautifull, and the excessive laughter that springs from a light occasion must be reputed great folly: But I doe not object this unto you to make you the more ashamed, or that you should take it in ill part; for my desire is none other then to doe you all the honour and service I may. This he spake unto them in such uncouth words, as they could not understand him, which was an occasion, joyned with his own uncomelinesse, to increase their laughter and his wrath, which would have passed the bounds of reason, if the Inn-Keeper had not come out at the instant; being a man who by reason of his exceeding fatnesse must needs have been of a very peaceable condition, who beholding that counterfeit figure, all Armed in so unsutable Armour as were his Bridle, Launce, Target, and Corslet, was very neer to have kept the Damzels company in the pleasant shewes of this merriment: but fearing in effect the Machina and bulk contrived of so various furnitures, he determined to speak him fairly; and therefore began to him in this manner: If your Worship (Sir Knight) doe seek for Lodging, you may chalk your self a Bed (for there is none in this Inn) wherein you shall finde all other things in abun dance. Don-Quixote noting the lowlinesse of the Constable of that Fortresse (for such the Inn and Inn-keeper seemed unto him) answered, Any thing, Sir Constable, may serve me; for mine Arms are mine ornaments, and Battels mine ease, &c. The Host thought he had called him a Castellano or Constable, [Here the Spanish is Castellano; that is in the Spanish tongue, either a Constable of a Castle or one born in Castile.] because he esteemed him to be one of the sincere and honest men of Castile, whereas he was indeed an Andaluzian, and of the Commark of S. Lucars, no lesse thievish then Cacus, nor less malicious and crafty then a Student or Page: and therefore he answered him thus: If that be so, your Bed must be hard Rocks, & your sleep a perpetuall Watching; and being such, you may boldly alight, and shall finde certainly here occasion & oportunity to hold you waking this twelvemonth more, for one night: and saying so, laid hold on Don-Quixote's stirrop, who did forthwith alight, though it was with great difficulty & pain (as one that had not eaten all the day one crum) and then he requested his Host to have speciall care of his horse, saying, He was one of the best pieces that ever eate bread. The Inn-keeper viewed and reviewed him, to whom he did not seem half so good as Don-Quixote valued him; and setting him up in the Stable, he turned to see what his Ghuest would command, who was a disarming by both the Damzels (which were by this time recon ciled to him) who, though they had taken off his breast-plate and back parts; yet knew they not how, nor could any wise undoe his Gorget, nor take off his conterfeit Beaver, which hee had fastened on with green Ribbands; and by reason the knots were so in tricate, it was requisite they should be cut, whereunto he would not in any wise agree; and therefore remained all the night with his Helmet on, and was the strangest and plea santest figure thereby that one might behold. And as he was a disarming (imagining those light wenches that holp him, to be certain principall Ladies and Dames of that Castle) he said unto them with a very good grace, Never was any Knight so well atten ded on, and served by Ladies as was Don-Quixote; when he departed from his Vil lage Damzels attended on him, and Princesses on his Horse. O Rozinante! for (La dies) that is the name of my Horse, and Don-Quixote de la Mancha is mine own. For although I meant at the first not to have discovered my self, untill the Acts done in your service and benefit should manifest me; yet the necessity of accommodating to our present purpose, the old Romance of Sir Launcelot, hath been an occasion that you should know my name before the right season: But the time will come wherein your Ladyships may command me, and I obey, and then the valour of mine arme shall discover the desire I have to doe you service. The wenches being unaccustomed to hear so Rhetoricall terms, answered never a word to him, but only demanded, whether he would eat any thing? That I would re plied Don-Quixote, for as much as I think the taking of a little meat would be very be hoovefull for me. It chanced by hap to be on Friday, and therefore there was no other meat in the Inn, then a few pieces of a Fish called in Castile Abadexo, in Andaluzia, Bacallao, and in some places Curadillo, and in others Truchuela, and is but poor-Iohn. They demanded of him therefore, whether he would eat thereof? giving it the name, used in that place, of Truchuela, or little Trout; for there was no other Fish in all the Inn to present unto him but such. Why then (quoth Don-Quixote) bring it in; for if there be many little Trouts, they may serve me instead of a great one; i • being all one to me, to be paid my money (if I were to receive any) in eight single Realls, or to be paid the same in one Reall of eight. And moreover those little Trouts are perhaps like unto Veal, which is much more delicate flesh then Beef; or the Kid which is better then the Goat; but be it what it list, let it be brought in presently; for the labour and weight of arms cannot be well borne without the well supplying of the Guts. Then was there straight laid a Table at the Inn door, that he might take the air; and the Host brought him a portion of evill-watered, and worse boyled poor-John, and a loaf as black and hoary as his Harnesse: But the onely sport was to behold him eat: for by reason his Helmet was on, and his Beaver lifted, he could put nothing into his mouth himself, if others did not help him to finde the way; and therefore one of those Ladies served his turn in that: but it was altogether impossible to give him drink after that manner, and would have remained so for ever, if the Inn-keeper had not boared a Cane, and setting the one end in his mouth, powred down the wine at the o ther: all which he suffered most patiently, because he would not break the Ribbands of his Helmet. And as he sate at Supper, there arrived by chance a Sow-gelder, who as soon as he came to the Inn, did sound four or five times a whistle of Canes, the which did confirm Don-Quixote, that he was in some famous Castle, where he was served with Musick, and that the poor-John was Trouts; the Bread of the finest Flower; the Whores, Ladies; and the Inn-keeper, Constable of the Castle; Wherefore he ac counted his resolution and departure from his own house very well imployed. But that which did most afflict him, was, that he was not yet dubbed Knight, for as much as he was fully perswaded, that he could not lawfully enterprize, or follow any adven ture, untill he received the order of Knight-hoood.