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And so saying； he charged with levelled lance against the one who
had spoken； with such fury and fierceness that； if luck had not
contrived that Rocinante should stumble midway and come down； it would
have gone hard with the rash trader。 Down went Rocinante； and over
went his master； rolling along the ground for some distance； and
when he tried to rise he was unable； so encumbered was he with
lance； buckler； spurs； helmet； and the weight of his old armour； and
all the while he was struggling to get up he kept saying； 〃Fly not；
cowards and caitiffs！ stay； for not by my fault； but my horse's； am
I stretched here。〃
One of the muleteers in attendance； who could not have had much good
nature in him； hearing the poor prostrate man blustering in this
style； was unable to refrain from giving him an answer on his ribs；
and coming up to him he seized his lance； and having broken it in
pieces； with one of them he began so to belabour our Don Quixote that；
notwithstanding and in spite of his armour； he milled him like a
measure of wheat。 His masters called out not to lay on so hard and
to leave him alone； but the muleteers blood was up； and he did not
care to drop the game until he had vented the rest of his wrath； and
gathering up the remaining fragments of the lance he finished with a
discharge upon the unhappy victim； who all through the storm of sticks
that rained on him never ceased threatening heaven； and earth； and the
brigands； for such they seemed to him。 At last the muleteer was tired；
and the traders continued their journey； taking with them matter for
talk about the poor fellow who had been cudgelled。 He when he found
himself alone made another effort to rise； but if he was unable when
whole and sound； how was he to rise after having been thrashed and
well…nigh knocked to pieces？ And yet he esteemed himself fortunate； as
it seemed to him that this was a regular knight…errant's mishap； and
entirely； he considered； the fault of his horse。 However； battered
in body as he was； to rise was beyond his power。
CHAPTER V
IN WHICH THE NARRATIVE OF OUR KNIGHT'S MISHAP IS CONTINUED
FINDING； then； that； in fact he could not move； he thought himself
of having recourse to his usual remedy； which was to think of some
passage in his books； and his craze brought to his mind that about
Baldwin and the Marquis of Mantua； when Carloto left him wounded on
the mountain side； a story known by heart by the children； not
forgotten by the young men； and lauded and even believed by the old
folk； and for all that not a whit truer than the miracles of
Mahomet。 This seemed to him to fit exactly the case in which he
found himself； so； making a show of severe suffering； he began to roll
on the ground and with feeble breath repeat the very words which the
wounded knight of the wood is said to have uttered：
Where art thou； lady mine； that thou
My sorrow dost not rue？
Thou canst not know it； lady mine；
Or else thou art untrue。
And so he went on with the ballad as far as the lines：
O noble Marquis of Mantua；
My Uncle and liege lord！
As chance would have it； when he had got to this line there happened
to come by a peasant from his own village； a neighbour of his； who had
been with a load of wheat to the mill； and he； seeing the man
stretched there； came up to him and asked him who he was and what
was the matter with him that he complained so dolefully。
Don Quixote was firmly persuaded that this was the Marquis of
Mantua； his uncle； so the only answer he made was to go on with his
ballad； in which he told the tale of his misfortune； and of the
loves of the Emperor's son and his wife all exactly as the ballad
sings it。
The peasant stood amazed at hearing such nonsense； and relieving him
of the visor； already battered to pieces by blows； he wiped his
face； which was covered with dust； and as soon as he had done so he
recognised him and said； 〃Senor Quixada〃 （for so he appears to have
been called when he was in his senses and had not yet changed from a
quiet country gentleman into a knight…errant）； 〃who has brought your
worship to this pass？〃 But to all questions the other only went on
with his ballad。
Seeing this； the good man removed as well as he could his
breastplate and backpiece to see if he had any wound； but he could
perceive no blood nor any mark whatever。 He then contrived to raise
him from the ground； and with no little difficulty hoisted him upon
his ass； which seemed to him to be the easiest mount for him； and
collecting the arms； even to the splinters of the lance； he tied
them on Rocinante； and leading him by the bridle and the ass by the
halter he took the road for the village； very sad to hear what
absurd stuff Don Quixote was talking。 Nor was Don Quixote less so； for
what with blows and bruises he could not sit upright on the ass； and
from time to time he sent up sighs to heaven； so that once more he
drove the peasant to ask what ailed him。 And it could have been only
the devil himself that put into his head tales to match his own
adventures； for now； forgetting Baldwin； he bethought himself of the
Moor Abindarraez； when the Alcaide of Antequera； Rodrigo de Narvaez；
took him prisoner and carried him away to his castle； so that when the
peasant again asked him how he was and what ailed him； he gave him for
reply the same words and phrases that the captive Abindarraez gave
to Rodrigo de Narvaez； just as he had read the story in the 〃Diana〃 of
Jorge de Montemayor where it is written； applying it to his own case
so aptly that the peasant went along cursing his fate that he had to
listen to such a lot of nonsense； from which； however； he came to
the conclusion that his neighbour was mad； and so made all haste to
reach the village to escape the wearisomeness of this harangue of
Don Quixote's； who； at the end of it； said； 〃Senor Don Rodrigo de
Narvaez； your worship must know that this fair Xarifa I have mentioned
is now the lovely Dulcinea del Toboso； for whom I have done； am doing；
and will do the most famous deeds of chivalry that in this world
have been seen； are to be seen； or ever shall be seen。〃
To this the peasant answered； 〃Senor… sinner that I am！… cannot your
worship see that I am not Don Rodrigo de Narvaez nor the Marquis of
Mantua； but Pedro Alonso your neighbour； and that your worship is
neither Baldwin nor Abindarraez； but the worthy gentleman Senor
Quixada？〃
〃I know who I am；〃 replied Don Quixote； 〃and I know that I may be
not only those I have named； but all the Twelve Peers of France and
even all the Nine Worthies； since my achievements surpass all that
they have done all together and each of them on his own account。〃
With this talk and more of the same kind they reached the village
just as night was beginning to fall； but the peasant waited until it
was a little later that the belaboured gentleman might not be seen
riding in such a miserable trim。 When it was what seemed to him the
proper time he entered the village and went to Don Quixote's house；
which he found all in confusion； and there were the curate and the
village barber； wh