CHAP. XIII. How the Curate and the Barber put their Designe in practise, with many other things, worthy to be recorded in this famous History. T HE Curates invention disliked not the Barber, but rather pleased him so well as they presently put it in execution. They borrowed there fore of the Inn-keepers wife a Gown and a Kerchief, leaving her in pawn thereof a fair new Cassock of the Curates. The Barber made him a great beard of a pyed Oxes tayle, wherein the Inn-keeper was wont to hang his Horse-combe. The Hostesse demanded of them the occasion why they would use these things? The Curate recoun ted in brief reasons of Don-Quixotes madnesse, and how that disguisement was requisite, to bring him away from the Mountain, wherein at that present he made his abode. Presently the Inn-keeper and his wife remembred themselves how hee had been their guest, and of his Balsamum, and was the tossed Squires Lord; and then they rehearsed again to the Curate all that had passed between him and them in that Inn, without omitting the accident that had befallen Sancho himself; and in conclusion the Hostesse tricked up the Curate so handsomely, as there could bee no more de • ired; for she at tired him in a Gown of broad-cloth, laid over with guards of black Velvet, each being a span bredth, full of gashes and cuts; the bodies and sleeves of green Velvet, welted with white sattin; which gown and doublet, as I suspect, were both made in the time of of King Bamba. The Curate would not permit them to vaile and be kerchif him, but set on his head a white-quilted-linnen-night-cap, which hee carried for the night, and girded his fore-head with a black Taffata garter, and with the other hee masked his face wherewithall he covered his beard and visage very neatly; then did hee incask his pate in his hat, which was so broad, as it might serve him excellently for a Quitasoll; and lapping himself up handsomly in his long cloak, hee went to horse, and rode as wo men use. Then mounted the Barber likewise on his Mule, with his beard hanging down to the girdle, half red and half white, as that which as wee have said was made of the taile of a pyed coloured Oxe: then taking leave of them all, and of the good Mari tornes, who promised (although a sinner) to say a Rosary to their intention, to the end that God might give them good successe, in so Christian and difficult an adventure, as that which they undertooke. But scarce were they gone out of the Inne, when the Curate begann to dread a little that he had done ill, in apparrelling himself in that wise, accounting it a very indecent thing, that a Priest should dight himself so, although the matter concerned him never so much. And acquainting the Barber with his sur mise, hee intreated him that they might change attires, seeing it was much more just that hee, because a Lay-man, should faine the oppressed Lady, and himself would be come his Squire; for so his dignitie would be less prophaned; to which if he would not condescend, he resolved to passe on no farther, although the Divell should carrie therefore Don-Quixote away. Sancho came over to them about this season; and seeing them in that habit hee could not contain his laughter. The Barber (to bee brief) did all that which the Curate pleased, and making thus an exchange of inventions, the Curate instructed him how hee should behave himself, and what words he should use to Don-Quixote to press and move him to come away with him and forsake the pro pension and love of that place which hee had chosen to perform his vain penance. The Barber answered, that he would set every thing in his due poynt and perfection, though he had never lessoned him; but would not set on the array, untill they came neer to the place where Don-Quixote abode; and therefore folded up his clothes, and Master Parson his beard, and forthwith went on their way, Sancho Panca playing the guide, who recounted at large to them all that had hapned with the mad-man whom they found in the Mountain; concealing notwithstanding the booty of the Malet, with the other things found therein: for although otherwise most simple, yet was our young man an ordinary vice of fools, and had a spice of covetousness. They arrived the next day following to the place where Sancho had left the tokens of boughs, to finde that wherein his Master sojourned: and having taken notice thereof, hee said unto them that that was the entry; and therefore they might doe well to appar rell themselves, if by change that might be a mean to procure his Lords liberty; for they had told him already, that on their going and apparrelling in that manner consisted wholly the hope of freeing his Lord, out-of that wretched life hee had chosen; and therefore did charge him on his life, not to reveal to his Lord in any case what they were, nor seem in any sort to know them: and that if he demanded (as they were sure hee would) whether hee had delivered his Letter to Dulcinea, hee should say hee did, and that by reason she could not read, shee answered him by word of mouth, saying, that shee commanded, under pain of her indignation, that presently abandoning so austere a life, hee would come and see her; for this was most requisite, to the end that moved therewithall, and by what they meant likewise to say unto him, they made cer tain account to reduce him to a better life; and would besides perswade him to that course instantly, which might set him in the way to become an Emperour or Monarch; for as concerning the being an Archbishoppe he needed not to feare it at all. Sancho listned to all the talke and instruction, and bore them away well in memorie, and gave them great thanks for the intention they had to counsell his Lord to become an Emperour, and not an Archbishop; for as hee said, hee imagined in his simple judge ment, that an Emperour was of more abilitie to reward his Squire then an Archbishop Errant. Hee likewise added, that hee thought it were necessarie hee went somwhat be fore them to search him, and deliver his Ladies answere; for perhaps it alone would be sufficient to fetch him out of that place, without puting them to any farther paines. They liked of Sancho Pancaes device, and therefore determined to expect him untill his return with the news of finding his Master. With that Sancho entred in by the Clifts of the Rocks (leaving them both behinde together) by which ran a little smoothe streame, to which other Rocks, and some trees that grew neere unto it, made a fresh and plea sing shadow. The heats, and the day wherein they arived there, was one of those of the moneth of August, when in those places the heate is intolerable: the hour, a bout three in the afternoon. All which did render the place more gratefull, and invited them to remain therein untill Sancho's return. Both therefore resting there quietly under the shadow, there arrived to their hearing the sound of a voyce, which without being accompanied by any instrument, did resound so sweet and melodi ously, as they remained greatly admired, because they esteemed not that to be a place wherein any so good a Musician might make his abode. For although it is usually said, that in the Woods and Fields are found Shepheards of excellent voyces, yet is this rather a Poeticall indeerment, then an approved truth; and most of all when they perceived that the verses they heard him singing were not of rustick composition, but rather of delicate and Courtly invention. The truth whereof is confirmed by the verses, which were these: WHo doth my Weale diminish thus and staine? Disdaine. And say by whom, my woes augmented be? By Iealousie. And who my patience doth by triall wrong? An absence long. If that be so then for my grievous wrong, No remedie at all I may obtain • Since my best hopes I cruelly finde slain By Disdain, Iealousie, and Absence long. Who in my minde, those dolours still doth move? Dire Love. And who my glories ebb doth most importune? Fortune. And to my Plaints, by whom increase is giv'n? By Heav'n. If that be so, then my mistrust jumps ev'n, That of my wondrous evill I must die; Since in my harme joyn'd and united be, Love, wavering Fortune, and a rig'rous Heaven. Who better hap can unto me bequeath? Death. From whom his favours doth not Love estrange? From change. And his too serious harms, who cureth wholy? Folly. If that bee so, it is no wisedome truly, To think by humane means to cure that care, Where th'only Antidotes, and Med'cines are, Desired Death, light Change, and endlesse Folly. The hour, the time, the solitarinesse of the place, voice, and art of him that sung, struck wonder and delight in the Hearers mindes, which remained still quiet, listning whether they might hear any thing else: But perceiving that the silence continued a prettie while, they agreed to issue and seek out the Musician, that sung so harmoniously. And being ready to put their resolution in practise, they were again arrested by the same voyce, the which touched their ears anew with this Sonnet. A SONNET. HOly Amitie! which with nimble wings Thy semblance leaving here on earth behinde, Among the blessed Souls of Heaven, up-flings, To those Imperiall rooms to cheer thy minde: And thence to us is (when thou lik'st) assign'd Iust Peace, whom shadie vail so cover'd brings; As oft, instead of her, Deceit wee find Clad in the weeds of good and vertuous things. Leave Heav'n, O Amitie! doe not permit Foul Fraud, thus openly, thy Robes t'invest; With which, sincere intents destroy does it: For if thy likenesse from't thou do'st not wrest, The World will turn to the first conflict soon, Of Discord, Cha •• , and Confusion. The Song was concluded with a profound sigh; and both the others lent atten tive eare to heare if hee would sing any more; but perceiving that the Musick was converted into throbs and dolefull plaints, they resolved to goe and learn who was the wretch, as excellent for his voyce, as dolorous in his sighs: and after they had gone a little at the doubling of the poynt of a cragg, they perceived one of the very same form and fashion that Sancho had painted unto them, when hee told them the History of Cardenio; which man espying them likewise, shewed no semblance of fear but stood still with his head hanging on his breast like a male-content, not once lifting up his eyes to behold them from the first time, when they unexpectedly arrived. The Curate who was a man very well spoken (as one that had already intelligence of his misfortune; for he knew him by his signes) drew neerer to him, and prayed and perswaded him with short, but very forcible reasons, to forsake that miserable life, left hee should there eternally lose it, which of all miseries would prove the most miserable. Cardenio at this season was in his right sense, free from the furious accident that distra cted him so often; & therefore viewing them both attyred in so strange & unusuall a fa shion from that which was used among those Desarts, he rested somewhat admired; but chiefly hearing them speak in his affair, as in a matter known (for so much he gathered out of the Curates speeches:) and therefore answered in this manner. I perceive well, good Sirs (whosoever you be) that Heaven which hath alwayes care to succour good men; yea even and the wicked many times, hath without any desert, addrest unto me by these Desarts and places so remote from vulgar haunt; persons, which laying be fore mine eyes with quick and pregnant reasons, the little I have to lead this kinde of life, doe labour to remove me from this place to a better: And by reason they know not as much as I doe, and that after escaping this harme, I shall fall into a far greater, they account me perhaps for a man of weak discourse; and what is worse for one wholly devoid of judgement? And were it so, yet is it no marvell; for it seems to me that the force of the imagination of my disasters is so bent and powerfull in my destru ction, that I, without being able to make it any resistance, doe become like a stone, void of all good feeling and knowledge: and I come to know the certainty of this truth, when some men doe recount and shew unto me tokens of the things I have done whilest this terrible accident over-rules me; and after I can doe no more, then be grieved, though in vain, and curse, without benefit, my too froward fortune; and render as an excuse of my madnesse the relation of the cause thereof, to as many as please to hear it: for wise men perceiving the cause, will not wonder at the effects. And though they give me no remedie, yet at least will not condemn me; for it will convert the anger they conceive at my mis-rules, into compassion of my disgraces: And Sirs, if by chance it be so, that you come with the same intention that others did, I re quest you, e're you inlarge farther your discreet perswasions, that you will give eare a while to the relation of my mis-haps; for perhaps when you have understood it, you may save the labour that you would take, comforting an evill wholy incapable of con solation. Both of them, which desired nothing so much as to understand from his own mouth the occasion of his harmes, did intreate him to relate it, promising to doe nothing else in his remedie or comfort, but what himselfe pleased. And with this the sorrowfull Gentleman began his dolefull Historie, with the very same words almost that hee had rehearsed it to Don-Quixote and the Goat-heard a few dayes past, when by occasion of Master Elisabat and Don-Quixotes curiositie in observing the Decorum of Chivalrie, the tale remained imperfect, as our Historie left it above. But now good fortune so dis posed things, that his foolish fit came not upon him, but gave him leisure to continue his Storie to the end; and so ariving to the passage that spoke of the Letter Don Ferdi nando found in the booke of Amadis du Gaule, Cardenio said that hee had it very well in memorie; and the sence was this. LUSCINDA to CARDENIO. I Discover daily in thee worths that obliege and inforces mee to hold thee deere: and therefore if thou desirest to have mee discharge this Debt, without serving a Writ on my Honour, thou mayst easily doe it. I have a Father that knowes thee and loves mee likewise well; who without forcing my Will, will ac complish that which justly thou oughtest to have: if it bee so, that thou esteemest mee as much as thou sayest, and I doe beleeve. This Letter moved mee to demand Luscinda of her father for my wife, as I have al ready recounted; and by it also Luscinda remayned in Don Ferdinandoes opinion crow ned, for one of the most discreete women of her time. And this billet Letter was that which first put him in minde to destroy mee ere I could effect my desires. I told to Don Ferdinando wherein consisted all the difficultie of her fathers protracting of the mariage, to wit, in that my father should first demand her; the which I dared not to mention unto him, fearing lest hee would not willingly consent thereunto; not for that the qualitie, bountie, virtue and beautie of Luscinda were to him unknowne, or that shee had not parts in her able to ennoblish and adorne any other linage of Spayne whatsoe ver: But because I understood by him, that he desired not to marry mee, untill he had seen what Duke Ricardo would doe for me. Finally, I told him that I dared not re veale it to my father, as well for that inconvenience, as for many others that made me so afraid, without knowing what they were, as me thought my desires would never take effect. To all this Don Ferdinando made mee answere, that hee would take upon him to speake to my father, and perswade him to treate of that affaire also with Luscindaes. O ambitious Marius! O cruell Cataline! O facinorous Quila! O trecherous Ga lalon! O trayterous Vellido! O revengefull Iulian! [one, who for the Rape of his daughter, committed by Roderick King of Spayne, brought in the Moores, and destroyed all the Countrie.] O covetous Iudas! Traytor, cruell, revengefull and couzening, what indeserts did this wench commit, who with such plaines discovered to thee the secrets and delights of her heart? What offence committed I against thee? What words did I speake, or councell did I give, that were not all addrest to the increasing of thine honour and profit? But on what doe I (the worst of all Wretches) complain! seeing that when the current of the Starres doth bring with it mishaps, by reason they come downe precipitately from above, there is no earthly force can withhold, or hu mane industry prevent or evacuate them. Who would have imagined that Don Ferdi nando, a noble Gentleman, discreete, oblieged by my deserts, and powerfull to ob taine whatsoever the amorous desire would exact of him, where and whensoever it sei zed on his heart, would (as they say) become so corrupt, as to deprive mee of one only sheepe, which yet I did not possesse? But let these considerations bee laid apart as un profitable, that wee may knit up againe the broken thred of my unfortunate History. And therefore I say that Don Ferdinando beleeving, that my presence was a hindrance to put his treacherous and wicked designe in execution, hee resolved to send mee to his eldest brother, under pretext to get some money of him, for to buy sixe great Horses, that hee had of purpose, and only to the end I might absent my selfe, bought the very same day that hee offered to speake himselfe to my father, and would have mee goe for the money (because hee might bring his treacherous intent the better to passe) could I prevent this Treason? Or could I perhaps but once imagine it? No truely; but rather glad for the good Merchandize hee had made, did make preffer of my selfe to depart for the money very willingly. I spoke that night to Luscinda, and acquainted her with the Agreement past betweene mee and Don Ferdinando, biding her to hope firmly, that our good just desires would sort a wished and happy end. Shee answered mee againe (as little suspecting Don Ferdinandoes treason as my selfe) biding mee to returne with all speede, because shee beleeved that the conclusion of our affections should bee no longer deferred, then my father deferred to speake unto hers. And what was the cause I know not, but as soone as shee had said this unto mee, her eyes were filled with tears, and somwhat thwarting her throat, hindred her from saying many other things, which mee thought shee strived to speak. I rested admired at this new accident, untill that time never seene in her, for alwaies as many times as my good fortune and diligence granted it, wee conversed with all sport and delight, without ever intermedling in our discourses any teares, sighes, com plaints, suspicions or feares. All my speech was to advance my fortune; for having received her from Heaven as my Lady and Mistresse, then would I amplifie her beautie, admire her worth, and prayse her discretion. Shee on the other side would returne mee the exchange, extolling in mee, what shee, as one enamoured, accounted worthy of laud and commendation. After this wee would recount a hundred thousand toyes and chances befaln our neighbours and acquaintance, and that to which my presumption dared farthest to extend it selfe, was sometimes to take her beautifull and Ivorie hands perforce and kisse them as well as I might, thorow the rigorous strictnesse of a nigard ly yron grate which divided us. But the precedent night to the day of my sad depar ture, shee wept, sob'd and sighed, and departed, leaving mee full of confusion and in ward assaults, amazed to behold such new and dolefull tokens of sorrow and feeling in Luscinda. But because I would not murder my hopes, I did attribute all these things to the force of her affection towards mee, and to the griefe which absence is wont to stir in those that love one another deerly, To bee briefe, I departed from thence sor rowfull and pensive, my Soule being full of imaginations and suspicions, and yet know not what I suspected or imagined: Cleere tokens, foretelling the sad successe and mis fortune which attended mee. I arived to the palce where I was sent, and delivered my Letter to Don Ferdinandoes brother, and was well entertayned, but not well dispatch ed; for hee commanded mee to expect (a thing to mee most displeasing) eight dayes, and that out of the Duke his fathers presence; because his brother had written unto him to send him certaine moneys unknowne to his father. And all this was but false Don Ferdinandoes invention, for his brother wanted not money wherewithall to have dispatched mee presently, had not hee written the contrary. This was so displeasing a commandement and order, as almost it brought me to terms of disobeying it, because it seemed to me a thing most impossible to sustein my life so many dayes in the absence of my Luscinda; and specially having left her so sorrowfull as I have recounted; yet notwithstanding I did obey like a good servant, although I knew it would be with the cost of my health. But on the fourth day after I had ar rived, there came a man in my search with a Letter, which he delivered unto me, and by the indorsement I knew it to be Luscinda's; for the hand was like hers: I opened it (not without fear and assailment of my senses) knowing that it must have been some serious occasion which could move her to write unto me, being absent, seeing shee did it so rarely even when I was present. I demanded of the Bearer, before I read, who had delivered it to him? and what time hee had spent in the way? Hee answered me, That passing by chance at mid-day through a street of the City, a very beautifull Lady did call him from a certain window: Her eyes were all be-blubbered with tears, and said unto him very hastily; Brother, if thou beest a Christian, as thou appearest to bee one, I pray thee for Gods sake, that thou doe forthwith addresse this Letter to the place and person that the superscription assigneth (for they bee well known;) and therein thou shalt doe our Lord great service. And because thou mayest not want means to doe it, take what thou shalt finde wraped in that handcerchif: And saying so, shee threw out of the window a hand cerchif, wherein were laped up a hundred Rialls, this Ring of gold which I carry here, and that Letter which I delivered unto you; and presently, without expecting mine answer, shee departed, but first saw me take up the handkerchif and Letter; and then I made her signes that I would accomplish herein her command: and after perceiving the pains I might take in bringing you it, so well considered, and seeing by the indorse ment, that you were the man to whom it was addrest: for, Sir, I know you very well, and also oblieged to doe it by the tears of that beautifull Lady, I determined not to trust any other with it, but to come and bring it you my self in person; and in sixteen hours since it was given unto me, I have travelled the journey you know, which is at least eighteen leagues long. Whilest the thankfull new Messenger spake thus unto me I remained in a manner hanging on his words, and my thighs did tremble in such man ner, as I could very hardly sustein my self on foot: yet taking courage, at last I opened the Letter, whereof these were the Contents THe word that Don Ferdinando hath past unto you to speak to your father, that hee might speak to mine, hee hath accom plished more to his own pleasure then to your profit. For, Sir, you shall understand that hee hath demanded me for his wife; and my fa ther (borne away by the advantage of worths which hee supposes to bee in Don Ferdinando more then in you) hath agreed to his demand in so good earnest, as the espousals shall bee celebrated within these two dayes, and that so secretly and alone, as only the Heavens and some folk of the house shall bee witnesses. How I remain, imagine, and whether it bee convenient you should return, you may consider; And the successe of this affair shall let you to perceive, whether I love you well or no. I beseech Almightie God, that this may arrive unto your hands, before mine shall be in danger to joyn it self with his, which keepeth his pro mised faith so ill. These were, in summe, the contents of the Letter, and the motives that perswaded me presently to depart, without attending any other answer, or other monies: for then I conceived cleerly, that it was not the buy-all of the horses, but that of his de lights, which had moved Don Ferdinando to send me to his brother. The rage which I conceived against him, joyned with the fear to lose the Jewell which I had gained by so many yeers service, and desires, did set wings on me, for I arrived as I had flyen next day at mine owne City, in the houre and moment fit to goe speake to Luscinda. I entred secretly, and left my Mule whereon I rode in the honest mans House that had brought mee the Letter, and my fortune purposing then to bee favourable to mee, disposed so mine affaires, that I found Luscinda siting at that yron-grate, which was the sole witnesse of our Loves. Luscinda knew mee streight and I her, but not as wee ought to know one another: But who is hee in the world that can truely vaunt that hee hath penetrated, and throughly exhausted the confused thoughts and mutable na ture of women? Truly none. I say then, to proceed with my tale, that as soon as Luscinda perceived me, shee said, Cardenio, I am attyred with my wedding Garments, and in the Hall doth wait for me the Traitor Don Ferdinando, and my covetous father with other witnesses, which shall rather bee such of my death, then of mine espousals; bee not troubled deer friend, but procure to bee present at this sacrifice, the which if I cannot hinder by my perswasions and reasons, I carry hidden about me a Ponyard se cretly, which may hinder more resolute forces by giving end to my life, and a begin ning to thee, to know certain the affection which I have ever borne, and doe bear unto thee. I answered her troubled and hastily, fearing I should not have the leisure to re ply unto her, saying, Sweet Ladie, let thy works verifie thy words; for if thou car riest a Ponyard to defend thy credit, I doe here likewise bear a Sword wherewithall I will defend thee, or kill my self, if fortune proove adverse and contrary. I believe that she could not hear all my words, by reason shee was called hastily away, as I per ceived, for that the Bridegroom expected her comming. By this the night of my for rows did throughly fall, and the Sunne of my gladnesse was set; and I remained with out light in mine eyes, or discourse in my understanding. I could not finde the way into her house, nor could I moove my self to any part: yet considering at last how important my presence was, for that which might befall in that adventure, I animated my self the best I could, and entred into the house; and as one that knew very well all the entries and passages thereof, and specially by reason of the trouble and businesse that was then in hand, I went in unperceived of any: And thus without beeing seen, I had the oportunity to place my self in the hollow room of a window of the same Hall, which was covered by the ends of two encountring pieces of Tapestry, from whence I could see all that was done in the Hall, remaining my self unviewed of any. Who could now describe the assaults and surprizals of my heart while I there abode? the thoughts which incountred my minde? the considerations which I had? which were so many and such, as they can neither bee said, nor is it reason they should. Let it suffice you to know, that the Bridegroom entred into the Hall without any ornament, wearing the ordinary array hee was wont, and was accompanied by a Cousin Germane of Lu scinda's, and in all the Hall there was no stranger present, nor any other then the hous hold Servants: Within a while after, Luscinda came out of the Parlour, accompanied by her mother and two waiting maids of her own, as richly attired and deckt as her calling and beauty deserved, and the perfection of Courtly pomp and bravery could afford: my distraction and trouble of minde lent me no time to note particularly the apparrell shee wore, and therefore did only marke the colours, which were Carnation and White; and the splendour which the precious Stones and Jewels of her Tires, and all the rest of her Garments yeelded: yet did the singular beauty of her fair and gol den tresses surpasse them so much, as being in competencie with the precious Stones, and flame of four Links that lighted in the Hall, yet did the splendour thereof seem farr more bright and glorious to mine eyes. O memory! the mortall enemie of mine case, to what end serves it now to represent unto me the uncomparable beauty of that my adored enemie? Were it not better, cruell memory! to remember and represent that which shee did then, that being moved by so manifest a wrong, I may at least in devour to lose my life, since I cannot procure a revenge? Tire not, good Sirs, to hear the digressions I make; for my grief is not of that kinde that may bee rehearsed suc cinctly and speedily, seeing that in mine opinion every passage of it is worthy of a large discourse. To this the Curate answered, that not only they were not tyred or wearied, hearing of him; but rather they received marvellous delight to hear him recount each minuity and circumstance, because they were such as deserved not to bee past over in silence, but rather merited as much attention as the principall parts of the History. You shall then wit (quoth Cardenio) that as they thus stood in the Hall the Curate of the Parish entred, and taking them both by the hand to doe that which in such an act is required at the saying of, Will you Lady Luscinda take the Lord Don Ferdinando, who is here pre sent, for your lawfull Spouse, according as our holy mother the Church commands? I thrust out all my head and neck out of the Tapestry, and with most attentive ears and a trou bled minde setled my self to hear what Luscinda answered, expecting by it the sentence of my death, or the confirmation of my life. O! if one had dared to sally out at that time, and cried with a loud voyce; O Luscinda, Luscinda! see well what thou doest; consider withall what thou owest me! Behold how thou art mine, and that thou canst not bee any others; note that thy saying of yea, and the end of my life shall bee both in one instant. O Traytor Don Ferdinando! Robber of my Glory! Death of my Life! what is this thou pretendest? what wilt thou doe? Consider that thou canst not Christian-like atchieve thine intention, seeing Luscinda is my Spouse, and I am her hus band. O foolish man now that I am absent, and farre from the danger, I say what I should have done, and not what I did. Now after that I have permitted my deer J • well to bee robbed, I exclaim on the Theese, on whom I might have revenged my self, had I had as much heart to doe it as I have to complain. In fine, since I was then a coward and a fool, it is no matter though I now dye ashamed, sorry and frantic • . The Curate stood expecting Luscindaes answer a good while 〈◊〉 shee gave it; and in the end, when I hoped that shee would take out the Ponyard to stab her self, or would unloose her tongue to say some truth, or use some reason or perswasion that might redound to my benefit, I heard her in stead thereof answer with a dismaied and lan guishing voyce the word, I will: And then Don Fernando said the same; and giving her the Ring, they remained tyed with an indissoluble knot. Then the Bridegroom comming to kisse his Spouse, shee set her hand upon her heart, and fell in a trance between her Mothers armes. Now only remains untold the case wherein I was, seeing in that ye • which I had heard my hopes deluded, Luscindaes words and promises Falsisied, and my self wholly disabled to recover in any time the good which I lost in that instant; I rested void of counsell, abandoned (in mine opinion) by heaven, proclaimed an enemie to the earth which up-held me the aire denying breath enough for my sighs, and the water humour sufficient to mine eyes; only the fire increased in such manner, as I burned throughly with rage and jealousie. All the house was in a tumult for this suddain amazement of Luscinda; and as her Mother unclasped her bosome to give her the aire there appeared in it a paper folded up, which Don Fernando presently seized on, and went aside to read it by the light of a torch; and after hee had read it, her sate down in a chair, laying his hands on his cheek, with manifest signes of Melancholy discontent, without bethinking him self of the remedies that were applyed to his Spouse to bring her again to her self. I seeing all the folk of the house thus in an uproar, did adventure my self to issue, not weighing much whether I were seen or no, bearing withall a resolution (if I were per ceived) to play such a rash part, as all the World should understand the just indigna tion of my brest, by the revenge I would take on false Don Fernando, and the mutable and dismayed Traytresse: But my destiny which hath reserved me for greater evills (if possibly there bee any greater then mine owne) ordained that instant my wit should abound, whereof ever since I have so great want; and therefore without will to take revenge of my greatest enemies (of whom I might have taken it with all facilitie, by reason they suspected so little my being there) I determined to take it on my self, and execute in my self the pain which they deserved, and that perhaps with more rigour then I would have used toward them if I had slain them at that time, seeing that the suddain death finisheth presently the pain; but that which doth lingringly torment kills alwaies, without ending the life. To bee short, I went out of the house, and came to the other where I had left my Mule, which I caused to bee sadled, and without biding mine Host adieu, I mounted on her and rode out of the City, without daring, like another Lot, to turne back and behold it; and then seeing my selfe alone in the Fields, and that the darknesse of the night did cover mee, and the silence thereof invite mee to complaine, without respect or feare to bee heard or known; I did let slip my voice, and untyed my tongue with so many curses of Luscinda and Don Ferdinando, as if thereby I might satisfie the wrong they had done mee. I gave her the title of Cruell, Ingratefull, False and Scornefull, but specially of Covetous, seeing the riches of mine Enemy had shut up the Eyes of her affection, to deprive mee thereof, and render it to him with whom fortune had dealt more frankly and liberally; and in the midst of this tune of maledictions and scornes, I did excuse her saying; That it was no marvell that a Mayden kept close in her parents house, made and accustomed alwaies to obey them, should at last condiscend to their Will, specially, seeing they bestowed upon her for husband, so noble, so rich and pro per a Gentleman, as to refuse him, would bee reputed in her, to proceede eyther from want of judgement, or from having bestowed her affections else-where, which things must of force greatly prejudice her good opinion and renowne. Presently would I turne againe to say, that though shee had told them that I was her spouse, they might easily perceive that in choosing mee, shee had not made so ill an election that shee might not bee excused, seeing that before Don Ferdinando offered himselfe, they them selves could not happen to desire, if their wishes were guided by reason, so fit a match for their daughter as my selfe; and shee might easily have said, before shee put her selfe in that last and forcible passe of giving her hand, that I had already given her mine, which I would come out to consesse, and confirme all that shee could any way faine in this Case; and concluded in the end, that little Love, lesse Judgement, much Ambition and desire of greatnesse caused her to forget the Words where withall shee had deceived, entertayned and sustayned mee in my firme hopes and ho nest desires. Using these words, and feeling this unquietnesse in my breast, I travelled all the rest of the night, and struck about dawning into one of the entries of these Mountaines, through which I travelled three dayes at random, without following or finding any path or way, untill I arived at last to certaine Medowes and Fields, that lye, I know not in which part of these Mountaines; and finding there certaine Heards, I demanded of them which way lay the most craggy and inaccessible places of these Rocks, and they directed mee hither; and presently I travelled towards it, with purpose here to end my life: and entring in among those Desarts, my Mule, through wearinesse and hunger, fell dead under mee, or rather as I may better suppose, to disburden himself of so vile and unprofitable a burden as hee carried of mee. I remained a foote, overcome by nature, and pierced through and through by hunger, without having any helpe, or knowing who might succour mee; and remained after that manner, I know not how long, prostrate on the ground, and then I rose againe without any hunger, and I found neere unto mee certaine Goat-heards, who were those doubtlesly that fed mee in my hunger: for they told me in what manner they found me, and how I spake so many foolish and mad words, as gave certain argument that I was devoid of Judgement: and I have felt in my self since that time that I injoy not my wits perfectly, but rather perceive them to bee so weakned and impaired, as I commit a hundred follies, tearing mine apparrell, crying lowdly through these Desarts, cursing my fates, and idlely re peating the beloved name of mine enemie, without having any other intent or discourse at that time then to endeavour to finish my life e're long; and when I turne to my self, I am so broken and tyred, as I am scarce able to stir me. My most ordinary Mansion place is in the hollownesse of a Cork-Tree, sufficiently able to cover this wretched Car kasse. The Cow-heards and the Goat-heards that feed their Cattell here in these Mountains, moved by charity, gave me sustenance, leaving meat for me by the wayes and on the Rocks which they suppose I frequent, and where they think I may finde it; and so, although I doe then want the use of reason, yet doth naturall necessity induce me to know my meat, and stirreth my apppetite to covet, and my will to take it: They tell me when they meet me in my wits, that I doe other times come out to the high-wayes and take it from them violently, even when they themselves doe offer it unto me wil lingly. After this manner doe I passe my miserable life, untill Heaven shall bee pleased to conduct it to the last period, or so change my memorie, as I may no more remember the beauty and treacherie of Luscinda, or the injurie done by Don Ferdinando; for if it doe me this favour, without depriving my life, then will I convert my thoughts to better discourses: if not, there is no other remedy but to pray God to receive my soul into his mercie; for I neither finde valour nor strength in my self to rid my bodie out of the straights, wherein for my pleasure I did at first willingly intrude it. This is, Sirs, the bitter relation of my disasters; wherefore judge if it bee such as may be celebrated with lesse feeling and compassion then that, which you may by this time have perceived in my self: And doe not in vain labour to perswade or counsell me that which reason should afford you may bee good for my remedie; for it will work no other effect in me then a medicine prescribed by a skilfull Physician, to a Pa tient that will in no sort receive it. I will have no health without Luscinda; And since shee pleaseth to alienate her self, being or seeing shee ought to be mine; so doe I also take delight to bee of the retinue of mis-hap, although I might be a retainer to good fortune. Shee hath ordained that her changing shall establish my perdition: And I will labour by procuring mine own losse, to please and satisfie her will: And it shall bee an example to ensuing ages, that I alone wanted that wherewith all other wretches abounded, to whom the impossibility of receiving comfort prooved sometimes a cure; but in me it is an occasion of greater feeling and harme, because I am perswaded that my harmes cannot end even with very death it self, Here Cardenio finished his large Discourse, and unfortunate and amourous Historie; and just about the time that the Curate was bethinking himself of some comfortable reasons to answer and perswade, him hee was suspended by a voyce arrived to his hearing, which with pittifull accents said what shall bee recounted in the fourth Part of this Narration: For in this very poynt the wise and most absolute Historiographer Cid Hamete Benengeli finished the third Part of this Historie.