CHAP. V. Of the discreet discourses passed betweene Sancho and his Lord: With the Adventure succeeding of a dead Body: And other notable Occurrences. M EE thinks, good Sir, that all the mishaps that befell us these dayes past, are without any doubt, in punishment of the sinne you committed a gainst the order of Knighthood, by not performing the Oath you swore, not to eate bread on table clothes, nor to sport with the Queen with all the rest which ensueth, and you vowed to accomplish untill you had wonne the Helmet of Malandrino, or I know not how the Moore is called, for I have forgotten his name. Thou sayst right Sancho, quoth Don-Quixote, but to tell the truth indeede, I did wholly forget it; and thou maist likwise thinke certainly, that because thou didst not remember it to mee in time, that of the Coverlet was inflicted as a punishment on thee. But I will make amends, for we have also manners of reconciliation for all things in the Order of Knighthood. Why did I by chance sweare any thing, quoth Sancho? it little imports, quoth Don-Quixote, that thou hast not sworne, let it suffice that I know thou art not very cleere from the fault of an accessary. And therefore at all Adventures it will not bee ill to provide a remedy. If it bee so quoth Sancho beware you doe not forget this againe, as you did that of the Oath, for if you should, perhaps those spirits will take againe a fancie to solace themselves with mee, and peradventure with you your selfe, if they see you ob stinate. Being in these and other such discourses, the night overtook them in the way, be fore they could discover any lodging, and that which was worst of all, they were almost famisht with hunger, for by the losse of their wallets, they lost at once both their provision and warder-house. And to accomplish wholly this disgrace, there succeeded a certain Adventure, which certainly hapned as we lay it down, without any addition in the world, and was this; The night did shut up with some darknesse, yet notwithstanding they travelled on still, Sancho believing, that since that was the high way, there must be within a league or two in all reason some Inn. Travailing there fore, as I have said, in a dark night, the Squire being hungry, and the Master having a good stomack, they saw coming towards them in the very way they travailed, a great multitude of lights, resembling nothing so well as wandring stars. Sancho beholding them, was struck into a wonderfull amazement, and his Lord was not much better: The one drew his Asse halter, the other held his horse; and both of them stood still, beholding attentively what that might be; and they perceived that the lights drew still neerer unto them; and the more they approached, they appeared the greater; at the sight Sancho did tremble, like one infected by the favour of Quick-silver; and Don-Quixotes hair stood up like bristles, who animating himself a little, said; Sancho, this must be questionlesse a great and most dangerous Adventure, wherein it is requisite that I shew all my valour and strength. Unfortunate I, quoth Sancho, if by chance this Adventure were of Ghosts! as it seemeth to me that it is; where will there be ribs to suffer it? Be they never so great Ghosts, said Don-Quixote, I will not consent that they touch one hair of thy Garmens: For if they jested with thee the other time, it was because I could not leap over the walls of the yard; but now we are in plain Field, where I may brandish my Sword as I please. And if they inchant and benum you, as they did the other time, quoth Sancho; what will it then avail us to be in open Field or no? For all that, replyed Don-Quixote, I pray thee Sancho be of good courage; for experience shall shew thee how great my valour is. I will and please God, quoth Sancho: And so departing somewhat out of the way, they began again to view earnest ly what that of the travailling lights might be; and after a very little space they espied many white things, whose dreadfull visions did in that very instant abate Sancho Panca his courage, and now began to chatter with his teeth like one that had the cold of a Quartan; & when they did distinctly perceive what it was, then did his beating and chat tering of teeth increase; for they discovered about some twenty, all covered with white a horse-back, with Tapers lighted in their hands; after which followed a Litter covered over with black, and then ensued other six a horse-back attired in mourning, and like wise their Mules, even to the very ground; for they perceived that they were not horses by the quietnesse of their pace. The white folk road murmuring somewhat a mong themselves with a low and compassive voyce: Which strange vision, at such an hour, and in places not inhabited, was very sufficient to strike fear into Sancho's heart, and even in his Masters. If it had been any other then Don-Quixote; but Sancho tumbled here and there, being quite overthrown with terrour. The contrary hapned to his Lord, to whom in that same hour his imagination represented 〈◊〉 him most lively, the Adventure wherein he was to be such a one, as he oft times had read in his books of Chivalry. For it is figured unto him, that the litter was a Beer, wherein was carried some grievously wounded or dead Knight, whose revenge was only reserved for him. And without making any other discourse he set his Launce in the rest, seated himself surely in his Saddle, and put himself in the midst of the way by which the white folk must forcibly passe, with great spirit & courage. And when he saw them draw neer, he said with a lowd voyce; Stand Sir Knight, whosoever you be, and render me ac count what you are? from whence you come? where you goe? and what that is which you carry in that Beer? For according as you shew either you have done to others, or others to you some injury: And it is convenient and needfull that I know it, either to chastise you, for the ill you have committed; or else to revenge you of the wrong which you have suffered. Wee are in haste, quoth one of the white men, and the Inn is far off; and therefore cannot expect to give so full a relation as you request; and with that spurring his Mule, passed forward. Don-Quixote highly disdaining at the answer, took by the bridle and held him, saying, Stay proud Knight, and be better mannered another time, and give me account of that which I demanded; if not, I desie you all to mortall battail. The Mule whereon the white man road, was some what fearfull and skittish; and being taken thus rudely by the bridle, shee took such a fright, that rising up on her hinder legs, she unhorsed her Rider; one of the Lacquies that came with them, seeing him fallen, began to revile Don-Quixote, who being by this throughly inraged, without any more adoe, putting his Launce in the rest, rann upon one of the Mourners, and threw him to the ground very • ore wounded: And turning upon the rest (it was a thing worthy the noting) with what dexterity, he did assault, break upon them, and put them all to flight; and it seemed none other, but that Rozinante had gotten then wings, hee bestirred himself so nimbly and coura giously. All those white men were fearfull people, and unarmed; and therefore fled away from the Skirmish in a trice, and began to traverse that field with their Tapers burning, that they seemed to be Maskers that use to runn up and down in nights of jove and re creation. The Mourners likewise were so laped up and muffled, by their mourning weeds as they could scarce stir them; so that Don-Quixote did, without any danger of his person, give them all the Bastanado; and caused them to forsake their rooms whether they would or no: For all of them did verily think that he was • o man, but a Devill of Hell, that met them to take away the dead body, which they carried in the Litter. All this did Sancho behold, marveilously admiring at his Master bold nesse, which made him say to himself, my Master is infallibly as strong and valiant as he said! There lay on the ground by him whom his Mule had overthrown, a wax Taper still burning, by whose light Don-Quixote perceived him, and comming over to him, he laid the poynt of his Launce upon his face, saying, that he should render himself, or else he would slay him. To which the other answered; I am already rendred more then enough, seeing I cannot stir me out of the place, for one of my legs is broken. And if you be a Christian I desire you not to kill me; for therein you would commit a great sacriledge, I being a Licenciate, and have received the first Orders. Well then, quoth Don-Quixote; what Divill brought thee hither being a Church-man? Who Sir, replyed the overthrown, but my misfortune? Yet doth a greater threaten thee, said Don-Quixote, if thou doest not satisfie me in all that which I first demanded of thee. You shall easily be satisfied, quoth the Licenciate; and therefore you shall wit, that although first of all I said I was a Licentiate, I am none, but a Batcheler, and am called Alonso Lopez, born at Alcovendas, and I came from the City of Baeca, with eleven other Priests, which are those that fled away with the Tapers; wee travailed towards Segovia, accompanying the dead body, that lies in that Litter, of a certain Gentleman who dyed in Baeca, and was there deposited for a while, and now as I say, we carty his bones to his place of buriall, which is in Segovia, the place of his birth. And who killed him, quoth Don-Quixote? God, quoth the Batcheler, with certain pestilentiall feavers that he took. In that manner, quoth Don-Quixote, our Lord hath delivered me from the paines I would have taken to revenge his death, if any other had slain him; Hee having killed him that did, there is no other remedy but silence, and to lift up the shoulders; for the same I must my self have done, if he were likewise pleased to slay me. And I would have your reverence to understand, that I am a Knight of the Mancha, called Don-Quixote; and mine Office and Exercise is, to goe through out the World righting of wrongs, and undoing of injuries. I cannot understand how that can be of righting wrongs, quoth the Batcheler, seeing you have made mee who was right before, now very crooked by breaking of my leg, which can never bee righted again, as long as I live; and the injury which you have undone in me, is none other but to leave me so injured, as I shall remain injured for ever. And it was very great disventure to have encountred with you that goe about to seek Adventures. All things, quoth Don-Quixote, succeed not of one fashion: The hurt was Master Batche ler Alonso Lopez, that you travelled thus by night covered with those Surplices, with burning Tapers, and covered with weeds of dole, so that you appeared most properly some bad thing, and of the other world; and so I could not omit to fulfill my duty, by assaulting you, which I would have done, although I verily knew you to be the Sathans themselves of Hell. For, for such I judged and accounted you ever till now. Then since my bad fortune hath so disposed it, quoth the Batcheler, I desire you good Sir Knight errant (who hath given mee so evill an errant) that you will help mee to get up from under this Mule, who holds still my leg betwixt the stirrop and saddle. I would have staid talking untill to morrow morning, quoth Don-Quixote, and why did you expect so long to declare your griefe to mee? hee presently called for Sanch • Panca to come over, but hee had little minde to doe; for hee was otherwise imployed, ransacking of a sumpter-Mule which those good folke brought with them, well furni shed with belly-ware. Sancho made a bag of his Casack, and catching all that he might or could contain, hee laid it on his beast, and then presently after repayred to his Ma ster, and holpe to deliver the good Batcheler from the oppression of his Mule. And mounting him again on it, hee gave him his Taper, and Don-Quixote bad him to follow his fellowes, of whom hee should desire Pardon in his name for the wrong he had done them. For it lay not in his hands to have done the contrary. Sancho said to him also, if those Gentlemen would by chance know, who the valorous Knight is that hath used them th • s, you may say unto them that he is the famous Don-Quixote of Mancha, o therwise called the Knight of the Illfavored face. With this the Batcheler departed, and Don-Quixote demanded of Sancho, what had moved him to call him the Knight of the illfavored face, more at that time then at any o ther? I will tell you that quoth Sancho; I stood beholding of you a pretty while by the Taper light which that unluckie man carrieth, and truly you have one of the evill-favoredst countenances, of late, that ever I saw; Which either proceedeth of your being tyred after this Battaile, or else through the losse of your teeth. That is not the reason, said Don-Quixote: But rather, it hath seemed fit to the wise man, to whose charge is left the writing of my History that I take some appellative name, as all the o ther Knights of yore have done: for one called himselfe, The Knight of the burning Sword; another that of the Vnicorne; this, him of the Phoenix; the other, that of the Damzells; another the Knight of the Griphen; and some other the Knight of Death; and by these names and devices they were known throughout the compasse of the earth. And so I say, that the wise man whom I mentioned set in thy minde and tongue the thought to call mee the Knight of the illfavored face, as I meane to call my selfe from henceforth, and that the name may become mee better, I will upon the first occasion cause to bee painted in my shield, a most illfavoured countenance. You neede not quoth Sancho, spend so much time and money in having the like countenance painted; but that which you may more easily doe is, to discover your owne, and looke directly on those that behold you, and I will warrant you, that without any more adoe, or new painting in your Shield, they will call you him of the illfavored face; And let this bee said in jest, that hunger and the want of your teeth, have given you, as I have said, so evillfavoured a face, as you may well excuse all other heavy portraitures. Don-Qui xote laught at his Squires conceit, and yet neverthelesse hee purposed to call himselfe by that name, as soone as ever hee should have commodity to paint his Shield or Buckler. And after a pause he said to Sancho; I beleeve I am Excommunicated, for having laid violent hands upon a consecrated thing. [Canon. 72. Distinct. 134.] Iuxta illud: si quis suadente diabolo, &c. Although I am certain I laid not my hands upon him, but only this Javelin; and besides, I did not any way suspect that I offended Priests or Church-men, which I doe respect and honour as a Catholick and faithfull Christian; but rather that they were shadowes and spirits of the other world. And if the worst hap ned, I remember well that which befell the Cid Ruy Diaz, when hee broke that other Kings Embassadors chair before the Popes holinesse, for which hee excommunicated him, and yet for all that the good Roderick Vivar behaved himself that day like an hono rable and valiant Knight. About this time the Batcheler departed, as is said, without speaking a word, and Don-Quixote would faine have seene whether the corps that came in the Litter was bones or no, but Sancho would not permit him, saying, Sir you have finished this peri lous Adventure, most with your safety of any one of those I have seene. This People, although overcome and scattered, might perhaps fall in the consideration that hee who hath overcome them is but one person alone, and growing ashamed thereof, would perhaps joyne and unite themselves and turne upon us and give us enough businesse to doe. The Asse is in good plight according to my desire, and the mountaine at hand, and hunger oppresseth us, therefore wee have nothing else to doe at this time but retire our selves with a good pace, and as it is said, to the grave with the Dead, and let them live to the Bread. And pricking on his Asse, hee requested his Master to follow him, who seeing that Sancho spoke not without reason, hee spur'd after him without reply ing; and having travailed a little way, between two small Mountaines they found a large and hidden Valley, where they alighted; and Sancho lightning his beast, and lying both along upon the greene grasse, holpen by the sauce of hunger, they broke their fasts, dined, eate their Beaver and Supper all at one time; satisfying their apetites with more then one dish of cold meate, which the dead Gentlemans Chaplaines (which knew how to make much of themselves) had brought for their provision: But here succeeded another discommodity which Sancho accounted not as the least, and was, that they had no wine to drink; no, nor as much as a dropp of water to rinse their mouthes, and being scorched with drought, Sancho perceiving the field where they were full of thick and green grasse, said that which shall ensue in the Chapter fol lowing.