CHAP. V. Wherein is prosecuted the former Narration of our Knights mis fortunes. B Ut seeing in effect that he could not stir himself, he resolved to have recourse to his ordinary remedy, which was to think on some passage of his Histories; and in the instant his folly presented to his memory that of Valdovinos, and the Marquesse of Mantua, then when Car loto had left him wounded in the Mountain. A History known by children, not hidden to youg men, much celebrated, yea, and believed by many old men; and is yet for all that no more authenticall then are Mahomets Miracles. This History, as it seemed to him, was most fit for the trance wherein he was; and therefore he began, with signes of great pain, to tumble up and down, and pronounce with a languishing breath the same that they feign the wounded Knight to have said in the wood: Where art thou Lady deer! that griev'st not at my smart? Or thou do'st it not know; or thou disloyall art. And after this manner he did prosecute the old song, untill these verses that say: O noble Marquesse of Mantua, my carnall Lord and Vncle. And it befell by chance, that at the very same time there past by the place where he lay a man of his own Village, who was his neighbour, and returned after having carried a loaf of wheat to the Mill; who be holding a man stretched on the ground, he came over to him, and demanded what hee was, and what was it that caused him to complain so dolefully? Don-Quixote did verily belive that it was his Uncle, the Marquesse of Mantua; and so gave him no other answer, but only followed on in the repetition of his old Romance, wherein he gave him account of his misfortune, and of the love the Emperours son bore to his Spouse, all in the very same manner that the Ballad recounts it. The laborer remained much astonished, hearing those follies. And taking off his Vizard, which with the Lacquies blows was broken all to peeces, he wiped his face that was full of dust • and scarce had he done it when he knew him, to whom he said; Master Quixada (for so he was probably called when he had his wits, before he left the state of a staid Yeoman, to become a wandring Knight) who hath used you after this mannner? But he continu ed his Romance, answering out of it, to every question that was put to him. Which the good man perceiving, disarmed him the best he could, to see whether he had any wound, but he could see no blood, or any token on him of hurt. Afterward he endeavoured to raise him from the ground, which he did at the last with much adoe; and mounted him on his Asse, as a Beast of easiest carriage. He gathered then together all his Arms, and left not behinde so much as the splinters of the Launce, and tied them altogether upon Rozinante, whom he took by the bridle, and the Asse by his halter, and led them both in that equipage fair and easily towards his Village, being very pensative to hear the follies that Don-Quixote spoak. And Don-Quixote was no lesse melancholy, who was so beaten and bruised, as he could hardly hold himself upon the Asse; and ever and anon he breathed forth such grievons sighs, as he seemed to fix them in Heaven; which moved his neighbour to intreat him again to declare unto him the cause of his grief. And it seems none other, but that the very Devill himself did call to his memorie, Hi stories accommodated to his successes. For in that instant, wholy forgeting Valdovinos he remembred the Moor Abindaraez then, when the Constable of Antequera Rode rick Narvaez had taken him, and carried him prisoner to his Castle. So that when his neighbour turned again to aske of him how hee did, and what ailed him; he answered the very same words and speech that Captive Abencerrase said to Narvaez, just as hee had read them in Diana of Montemayor, where the History is written; applying it so properly to his purpose, that the labourer grew almost mad for anger to heare that Machina of follies; by which hee collected that his neighbour was distracted, and ther fore hee hied as fast as possible hee could to the Village, that so hee might free himself from the vexation that Don-Quixotes idle and prolixe discourse gave unto him. At the end whereof the Knight said, Don Rodericke of Narvaez: You shall understand that this beautifull Xarifa, of whom I spoak, is now the faire Dulcinea of Toboso; for whom I have done, I doe, and will doe such famous acts of Knighthood as ever have beene, are, and shall be seen in all the World. To this his neighbour answered, doe not you perceive Sir, sinner that I am, how I am neyther Don Roderick de Narvaez, nor the Marquesse of Mantua, but Peter Alonso your neighbour; nor are you Val dovinos, nor Abindaraez, but the honourable yeoman Master Quixada. I know ve ry well who I am quoth Don-Quixote, and also I know that I may not only bee those whom I have named, but also all the twelve Peeres of France, yea and the nine wor thies; since mine Acts shall surpasse all those that ever they did together, or every one of them apart. With these and such other discourses they arived at last at their Village about Sun-set, but the labourer awayted untill it waxed somwhat darke, because folke should not view the Knight so simply mounted. And when hee saw his time he entred into the Towne, and went to Don-Quixotes house, which hee found full of confusion. There was the Curate & the Barbar of the Village, both of them Don-Quixotes great friends: to whom the old woman of the house said in a lamentable manner; What doe you think Master Licentiate Pere Perez (for so the Curate was called) of my Masters misfortune? These six dayes neyther hee nor his horse have appeared, nor the Target, Launce or Armour, unfortunate woman that I am, I doe suspect, and I am as sure it is true as that I shall die; how those accursed Books of Knighthood which hee hath, and is wont to reade ordinarily, have turned his judgement; for now I remember that I have heard him say often times, speaking to himself, that hee would become a Knight Errant, and goe seeke Adventures throughout the World. Let such Books bee recommended to Sathan and Barrabas, which have destroyed in this sort the most delicate understand ing of all the Mancha. His Niese affirmed the same, and did add, moreover you shall understand good Master Nicholus (for so hight the Barbar) that it many times befell my Uncle to continue the Lecture of those unhappy Books of disventures two dayes and two nights together. At the end of which, throwing the book away from him, he would lay hand on his Sword, and would fall a slashing of the walls, and when hee were wearied, hee would say that hee had slain foure Giants as great as foure Towres, and the sweat that dropped down, through the labour hee tooke, hee would say was blood that gushed out of those wounds which hee had received in the conflict, and then would hee quaffe off a great pot full of cold water, and straight hee did become whole and quiet; saying, that water was a most precious drinke, which the wise man Esquife, a great Enchanter or Sorcerer, and his friend, had brought unto him. But I am in the fault of all this, who never advertis'd you both of mine Uncles raving, to the end you might have redrest it ere it came to these termes, and burnt all those Excommunicate Books; for hee had many that deserved the Fire as much as if they were Hereticall. That doe I likewise affirme, quoth Master Curate, and in soothe to morrow shall not passe over us, without making a publique Processe against them, and condemn them to bee burned in the Fire, that they may not minister occasion again to such as may read them, to doe that which I feare my good friend hath done. The Labourer and Don-Quixote stood hearing all that which was said, and then hee perfectly found the disease of his neighbour, and therefore he began to crie aloud; Open the doores to Lord Valdovinos, and to the Lord Marquesse of Mantua, who comes very sore wounded and hurt, and to the Lord Moore Abindaraez, whom the valorous Ro dericke of Narvaez Constable of Antequera brings as his Prisoner. All the houshould ran out, hearing these cries, and some knowing their friend, the others their Master and Uncle, who had not yet alighted from the Asse, because he was not able, they ran to embrace him, but he forbad them, saying stand still and touch me not, for I returne very sore wounded and hurt, through default of my horse, carie me to my bed, and if it be possible send for the wise Viganda, that she may cure and looke to my hurt. See in an ill houre (quoth the old woman straight way) if my heart did not very well fore tell me on which foote my Master halted; come up in good time, for we shall know how to cure you well enough without sending for that Viganda you have mentioned; Accursed say I, once again, and a hundred times accursed may those bookes of Knight hood be, which have brought you to such a state: With that they bore him up to his bed, and searching for his wounds could not finde any, and then hee said all was but bruising, by reason of a great fall hee had with his horse Rozinante, as hee fought with ten Giants, the most unmeasurable and boldest that might bee found in a great part of the Earth. Hearken quoth the Curate, wee have also Giants in the dance: by mine honesty I will burne them all before to morrow at night. Then did they aske a thousand questions of Don-Quixote, but hee would answere to none of them, and only reque sted them to give him some meate and suffer him to sleep, seeing rest was most behoove full for him. All which was done, and the Curate informed himself at large of the la boring man, in what sort hee had found Don-Quixote, which hee recounted to him, and also the follies hee said, both at his finding and bringing to Towne; which did kin dle more earnestly the Licentiates desire to doe what hee had resolved the next day; which was to call his friend the Barber M. Nicholas, with whom hee came to Don-Qui xotes House.