Don Quixote_ Translation by Edith Grossman (HarperCollins) - Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra [280]
“That was right and proper,” responded Sancho, “because, according to your grace, misfortunes afflict knights errant more than their squires.”
“You are wrong, Sancho,” said Don Quixote. “As the saying goes, Quando caput dolet—”
“I don’t understand any language but my own,” responded Sancho.
“I mean,” said Don Quixote, “that when the head aches, all the other members ache, too; since I am your lord and master, I am your head, and you my part, for you are my servant; for this reason, the evil that touches or may touch me will cause you pain, and yours will do the same to me.”
“That’s how it should be,” said Sancho, “but when they tossed me, a member, in the blanket, my head was behind the fence watching me fly through the air and not feeling any pain at all; since the members are obliged to suffer the pains of the head, the head should be obliged to feel their pains, too.”
“Do you mean to say, Sancho,” responded Don Quixote, “that I felt no pain when you were tossed in the blanket? If that is what you mean, do not say it and do not think it, for at the time I felt more pain in my spirit than you did in your body. But let us put that aside for now; there will be time for us to ponder this and draw the proper conclusion; tell me, Sancho my friend: what are people saying about me in the village? What opinion of me do the commoners have, and the gentlefolk, and the knights? What do they say about my valor, my deeds, and my courtesy? What is the talk with regard to my undertaking to revive and bring back to the world the forgotten order of chivalry? In short, Sancho, I want you to tell me what has reached your ears regarding this, and you must tell me without adding anything to the good or taking anything away from the bad, for it is fitting that loyal vassals tell the exact and unvarnished truth to their lords, not swelling it because of adulation or allowing any other idle considerations to lessen it; and I want you to know, Sancho, that if the naked truth, bare of flattery, were to reach the ears of princes, the times would be different and other ages would be deemed to be of iron when compared to our own, which, I believe, would be considered golden. Heed this warning, Sancho, and with good sense and intentions bring to my ears the truth of what you know in response to what I have asked you.”
“I will do that very gladly, Señor,” responded Sancho, “on the condition that your grace will not be angry at what I say, since you want me to tell the naked truth and not dress it in any clothes except the ones it was wearing when I heard it.”
“Under no circumstances shall I be angry,” responded Don Quixote. “You may certainly speak freely, Sancho, without evasions.”
“Well, the first thing I’ll say,” he said, “is that the common people think your grace is a great madman, and that I’m just as great a simpleton. The gentry say you have not stayed within the bounds of being a gentleman and have called yourself Don1 and rushed into being a knight when you have just a vine or two and a couple of fields and nothing but rags on your back. The knights say they wouldn’t want the minor gentry to compete with them, especially those squirish gentlefolk who polish their shoes with lampblack and mend their black stockings with green thread.”
“That,” said Don Quixote, “has nothing to do with me, because I am always well-dressed, and never in patches; my clothes may be frayed, but more by my armor than by time.”
“As for your grace’s valor, courtesy, deeds, and undertakings,” Sancho continued, “there are different opinions. Some say, ‘Crazy, but amusing’; others, ‘Brave, but unfortunate’; and others, ‘Courteous, but insolent’; and they go on and on so much in this vein that they don’t leave an untouched bone in your grace’s body or mine.”
“Look, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “wherever extraordinary virtue resides, there it is persecuted. Very few, if any, of the famous men of the