"In good faith, dear wife," said Sancho, "if Heaven be so good to me that I get anything like a government, I will match Mary Sancha so highly that there will be no coming near her without calling her your ladyship."
"Not so, Sancho," answered Teresa, "the best way is to marry her to her equal; for if you lift her from clouted shoes to high heels, and instead of her russet coat of fourteenpenny stuff, give her a farthingale and petticoats of silk, and instead of plain Molly and thou she be called madam and your ladyship, the girl will not know where she is and will fall into a thousand mistakes at every step, showing her homespun country stuff."
"Peace, fool!" quoth Sancho, "she has only to practise two or three years and the gravity will set upon her as if it were made for her; and if not, what matters it? Let her be a lady, and come of it what will."
"Measure yourself by your condition, Sancho," answered Teresa, "and do not seek to raise yourself higher, but remember the proverb, "Wipe your neighbor"s son"s nose and take him into your house." It would be a pretty business, truly, to marry our Mary to some great count or knight, who, when the fancy takes him, would look upon her as some strange thing, and be calling her country-wench, clod-breaker"s brat, and I know not what else. No, not while I live, husband; I have not brought up my child to be so used. Do you provide money, Sancho, and leave the matching of her to my care; for there is Lope Tocho, John Tocho"s son, a l.u.s.ty, hale young man, whom we know, and I am sure he has a sneaking kindness for the girl. To him she will be very well married, considering he is our equal, and will be always under our eye; and we shall be all as one, parents and children, grandsons and sons-in-law, and so the peace and blessing of Heaven will be among us all; and do not you be for marrying her at your courts and great palaces, where they will neither understand her nor she understand herself."
"Hark you, beast, and wife for Barabbas," replied Sancho, "why would you now, without rhyme or reason, hinder me from marrying my daughter with one who may bring me grandchildren that may be styled your lordships?
Look you, Teresa, I have always heard my betters say, "He that will not when he may, when he will he shall have nay"; and it would be wrong, now that fortune is knocking at our door, not to open it and bid her welcome. Let us spread our sail to the favorable gale, now that it blows." ... Can"t you perceive, animal, with half an eye," proceeded Sancho, "that I shall act wisely, in devoting this body of mine to some beneficial government that will lift us out of the dirt, and enable me to match Mary Sancha according to my own good pleasure; then wilt thou hear thyself called Donna Teresa Panza, and find thyself seated at church upon carpets, cushions, and tapestry, in despite and defiance of all the small gentry in the parish; and not be always in the same moping circ.u.mstances, without increase or diminution, like a picture in the hangings. But no more of this; Sanchica shall be a countess, though thou shouldst cry thy heart out."
"Look before you leap, husband," answered Teresa; "after all, I wish to G.o.d this quality of my daughter may not be the cause of her perdition; take your own way, and make her d.u.c.h.ess or princess, or what you please; but I"ll a.s.sure you it shall never be with my consent or good-will; I was always a lover of equality, my dear, and can"t bear to see people hold their heads high without reason. Teresa was I christened, a bare and simple name, without the addition, garniture, and embroidery of Don or Donna; my father"s name is Cascajo, and mine, as being your spouse, Teresa Panza, though by rights I should be called Teresa Cascajo; but as the king minds, the law binds; and with that name am I contented, though it be not burdened with a Don, which weighs so heavy that I should not be able to bear it. Neither will I put it in the power of those who see me dressed like a countess or governor"s lady, to say: "Mind Mrs.
Porkfeeder, how proud she looks! it was but yesterday she toiled hard at the distaff, and went to ma.s.s with the tail of her gown about her head, instead of a veil; but now, forsooth, she has got her fine farthingales and jewels, and holds up her head as if we did not know her." If G.o.d preserves me in my seven or five senses, or as many as they be, I shall never bring myself into such a quandary. As for your part, spouse, you may go to your governments and islands, and be as proud as a peac.o.c.k; but as for my daughter and me, by the life of my father! we will not stir one step from the village; for, the wife that deserves a good name, stays at home as if she were lame; and the maid must be still a-doing, that hopes to see the men come awooing."
He that covers, discovers.
The poor man is scarcely looked at, while every eye is turned upon the rich; and if the poor man grows rich and great, then I warrant you there is work enough for your grumblers and backbiters, who swarm everywhere like bees.
"The first time, he was brought home to us laid athwart an a.s.s, all battered and bruised. The second time he returned in an ox-wagon, locked up in a cage, and so changed, poor soul, that his own mother would not have known him; so feeble, wan, and withered, and his eyes sunk into the farthest corner of his brains, insomuch that it took me above six hundred eggs to get him a little up again, as Heaven and the world is my witness, and my hens, that will not let me lie."
"I can easily believe that," answered the bachelor; "for your hens are too well bred and fed to say one thing and mean another."
All objects present to the view exist, and are impressed upon the imagination with much greater energy and force, than those which we only remember to have seen.
When we see any person finely dressed, and set off with rich apparel and with a train of servants, we are moved to show him respect; for, though we cannot but remember certain scurvy matters either of poverty or parentage, that formerly belonged to him, but which being long gone by are almost forgotten, we only think of what we see before our eyes. And if, as the preacher said, the person so raised by good luck, from nothing, as it were, to the tip-top of prosperity, be well behaved, generous, and civil, and gives himself no ridiculous airs, pretending to vie with the old n.o.bility, take my word for it, Teresa, n.o.body will twit him with what he was, but will respect him for what he is; except, indeed the envious, who hate every man"s good luck.
People are always ready enough to lend their money to governors.
Clothe the boy so that he may look not like what he is, but what he may be.
To this burden women are born, they must obey their husbands if they are ever such blockheads.
He that"s coy when fortune"s kind, may after seek but never find.
All knights cannot be courtiers, neither can all courtiers be knights.
The courtier knight travels only on a map, without fatigue or expense; he neither suffers heat nor cold, hunger nor thirst; while the true knight-errant explores every quarter of the habitable world, and is by night and day, on foot or on horseback, exposed to all the vicissitudes of the weather.
All are not affable and well-bred; on the contrary, some there are extremely brutal and impolite. All those who call themselves knights, are not ent.i.tled to that distinction; some being of pure gold, and others of baser metal, notwithstanding the denomination they a.s.sume. But these last cannot stand the touch-stone of truth; there are mean plebeians, who sweat and struggle to maintain the appearance of gentlemen; and, on the other hand, there are gentlemen of rank who seem industrious to appear mean and degenerate; the one sort raise themselves either by ambition or virtue, while the other abase themselves by viciousness or sloth; so that we must avail ourselves of our understanding and discernment in distinguishing those persons, who, though they bear the same appellation, are yet so different in point of character. All the genealogies in the world may be reduced to four kinds. The first are those families who from a low beginning have raised and extended themselves, until they have reached the highest pinnacle of human greatness; the second are those of high extraction, who have preserved their original dignity; the third sort are those who, from a great foundation, have gradually dwindled, until, like a pyramid, they terminate in a small point. The last, which are the most numerous cla.s.s, are those who have begun and continue low, and who must end the same.
Genealogies are involved in endless confusion, and those only are ill.u.s.trious and great who are distinguished by their virtue and liberality, as well as their riches; for the great man who is vicious is only a great sinner, and the rich man who wants liberality is but a miserly pauper.
The gratification which wealth can bestow is not in mere possession, nor in lavishing it with prodigality, but in the wise application of it.
The poor knight can only manifest his rank by his virtues and general conduct. He must be well-bred, courteous, kind, and obliging; not proud nor arrogant; no murmurer. Above all, he must be charitable, and by two maravedis given cheerfully to the poor he shall display as much generosity as the rich man who bestows large alms by sound of bell. Of such a man no one would doubt his honorable descent, and general applause wall be the sure reward of his virtue.
There are two roads by which men may attain riches and honor: the one by letters, the other by arms.
The path of virtue is narrow, that of vice is s.p.a.cious and broad; as the great Castilian poet expresses it:--
"By these rough paths of toil and pain The immortal seats of bliss we gain, Denied to those who heedless stray In tempting pleasure"s flowery way."
Fast bind, fast find.
He who shuffles is not he who cuts.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
Though there is little in a woman"s advice, yet he that won"t take it is not over-wise.
We are all mortal: here to-day and gone to-morrow.
The lamb goes to the spit as soon as the sheep.
No man in this world can promise himself more hours of life than G.o.d is pleased to grant him; because death if deaf, and when he knocks at the door of life is always in a hurry, and will not be detained either by fair means or force, by sceptres or mitres, as the report goes, and as we have often heard it declared from the pulpit.
The hen sits, if it be but upon one egg.
Many littles make a mickle, and he that is getting aught is losing naught.
While there are peas in the dove-cote, it shall never want pigeons.
A good reversion is better than bad possession, and a good claim better than bad pay.
The bread eaten, the company broke up.
A man must be a man, and a woman a woman.
Nothing inspires a knight-errant with so much valor as the favor of his mistress.
O envy! thou root of infinite mischief and canker-worm of virtue! The commission of all other vices, Sancho, is attended with some sort of delight; but envy produces nothing in the heart that harbors it but rage, rancor, and disgust.
The love of fame is one of the most active principles in the human breast.
Let us keep our holy days in peace, and not throw the rope after the bucket.
"And now pray tell me which is the most difficult, to raise a dead man to life or to slay a giant?"
"The answer is very obvious," answered Don Quixote; "to raise a dead man."
"There I have caught you!" quoth Sancho. "Then his fame who raises the dead, gives sight to the blind, makes the lame walk, and cures the sick; who has lamps burning near his grave, and good Christians always in his chapels, adoring his relics upon their knees,--his fame, I say, shall be greater both in this world and the next than that which all the heathen emperors and knights-errant in the world ever had or ever shall have."
"I grant it," answered Don Quixote.
"Then," replied Sancho, "the bodies and relics of saints have this power and grace, and these privileges, or how do you call them, and with the license of our holy mother church have their lamps, winding-sheets, crutches, pictures, perukes, eyes, and legs, whereby they increase people"s devotion and spread abroad their own Christian fame. Kings themselves carry the bodies or relics of saints upon their shoulders, kiss the fragments of their bones, and adorn their chapels and most favorite altars with them."
"Certainly, but what wouldst thou infer from all this, Sancho?" quoth Don Quixote.