he threshed him to chaff. His masters cried out, not to beat him so much, and to leave him; but the muleteer was provoked, and would not quit the game until he had quite spent the remainder of his choler; and running for the other pieces of the lance, he finished the breaking of them upon the poor fallen knight, who, notwithstanding the tempest of blows that rained upon him, never shut his mouth, threatening heaven and earth, and those assassins, for such they seemed to him. At length the fellow was tired, and the merchants went on their way, sufficiently furnished with matter of discourse concerning the poor belaboured knight; who, when he found himself alone, tried again to raise himself, but if he could not do it when whole and well, how should he when bruised and almost battered to pieces? Yet still he thought himself a happy man, looking upon this as a misfortune peculiar to knights-errant, and imputing the whole to his horse's fault; nor was it possible for him to raise himself up, his whole body was so horrible bruised.
Wherein is continued the narration of our knight's misfortune.
BUT finding that he was really not able to stir, he bethought himself of having recourse to his usual remedy, which was to recollect some passage of his books; and his frenzy instantly presented to his remembrance that of Valdovinos and the Marquess of Mantua,* when Carloto left him wounded on the mountain; a story known to children, not unknown to youth, commended and credited by old men, and for all that no truer than the miracles of Mahomet. Now this example seemed to him as if it had been cast in a mould to fit the distress he was in: and so, with signs of great bodily pain, he began to roll himself on the ground, and said with a faint tone, what was said by the wounded knight of the wood:
'Where art thou, mistress of my heart,
Unconscious of thy lover's smart?
Ah me! thou know'st not my distress;
Or thou art false and pitiless.'
And in this manner he went on with the romance until he came to