Better a blush on the face than a stain in the heart.
Look not in last year's nests for this year's birds.
And he forthwith imagined that some damsel belonging to the duchess had become enamored of him. Though somewhat fearful of the beautiful foe, he resolved to fortify his heart, and on no account to yield; so, commending himself with fervent devotion to his mistress, Dulcinea del Toboso, he determined to listen to the music; and to let the damsel know he was there he gave a feigned sneeze, at which they were not a little pleased, as they desired above all things that he should hear them. The harp being now tuned, Altisidora began the following song[14]:--
Wake, sir knight, now love's invading, Sleep in Holland sheets no more; When a nymph is serenading, 'Tis an arrant shame to snore.
Hear a damsel tall and tender, Moaning in most rueful guise, With heart almost burned to cinder By the sunbeams of thine eyes.
To free damsels from disaster Is, they say, your daily care: Can you then deny a plaster To a wounded virgin here?
Tell me, doughty youth, who cursed thee With such humors and ill-luck? Was't some sullen bear dry-nursed thee, Or she-dragon gave thee suck?
Dulcinea, that virago, Well may brag of such a Cid, Now her fame is up, and may go From Toledo to Madrid.
Would she but her prize surrender, (Judge how on thy face I dote!) In exchange I'd gladly send her My best gown and petticoat.
Happy I, would fortune doom me But to have me near thy bed, Stroke thee, pat thee, currycomb thee, And hunt o'er thy knightly head.
But I ask too much, sincerely, And I doubt I ne'er must do't, I'd but kiss your toe, and fairly Get the length thus of your foot.
How I'd rig thee, and what riches Should be heaped upon thy bones! Caps and socks, and cloaks and breeches, Matchless pearls and precious stones.
Do not from above, like Nero, See me burn and slight my woe, But to quench my fires, my hero, Cast a pitying eye below.
I'm a virgin-pullet, truly; One more tender ne'er was seen. A mere chicken fledged but newly;-- Hang me if I'm yet fifteen.
Wind and limb, all's tight about me, My hair dangles to my feet; I am straight, too:--if you doubt me, Trust your eyes, come down and see't.
I've a bob nose has no fellow, And a sparrow's mouth as rare; Teeth, like bright topazes, yellow; Yet I'm deemed a beauty here.