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The Life and Achievements of Don Quixote De La Mancha is a Spanish epic novel by Miguel de Cervantes. Originally published in two parts, in 1605 and 1615, its full title is The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha. A founding work of Western literature, it is often labelled as the first modern novel and one of the greatest works ever written. Don Quixote is also one of the most-translated books in the world.

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CHAPTER LVI.
Which gives an account of a thousand trifles and stories, as impertinent as necessary to the right understanding of this grand history.

The scholar thought Sancho the most saucy servant, and his master the calmest madman, that ever he saw; though he attributed the patience of the latter to a certain good humour and easiness of temper, infused into him by the sight of his mistress Dulcinea, even under enchantment; otherwise he would have thought his not checking Sancho a greater sign of madness than his discourse. "Noble Don Quixote," said he, "for four principal reasons, I am extremely pleased with having taken this journey with you. First, it has procured me the honour of your acquaintance, which I shall always esteem a singular happiness. In the second place, sir, the secrets of Montesinos' cave, and the transformations of Guadiana, and Ruydera's lakes, have been revealed to me, which may look very great in my Spanish Ovid. My third advantage is, to have discovered the antiquity of card-playing, which I find to have been a pastime in use even in the Emperor Charles the Great's time, as may be collected from the words of Durandarte, who, after a long speech of Montesinos', said, as he waked, 'Patience, and shuffle the cards;' which vulgar expression he could never have learned in his enchantment. It follows, therefore, that he must have heard it when he lived in France, which was in the reign of that emperor; which observation is nicked, I think, very opportunely for my supplement to Polydore Vergil, who, as I remember, has not touched upon card-playing. I will insert it in my work, I'll assure you, sir, as a matter of great importance, having the testimony of so authentic and ancient an author as Sir Durandarte."
"There is a great deal of reason in what you say," answered Don Quixote; "but more of this some other time--it is late now, and therefore convenient to think of a lodging."
"Hard by us here, sir," said the author, "is a hermitage, the retirement of a devout person, who, as they say, was once a soldier, and is looked upon as a good Christian; and so charitable, that he has built there a house at his own expense, purely for the entertainment of strangers." "But does he keep hens there, trow?" asked Sancho. "Few hermits in this age are without them," said Don Quixote; "for their way of living now falls short of the strictness and austerity of those in the deserts of Egypt, who went clad only with palm-leaves, and fed on the roots of the earth. Now, because I speak well of these of old, I would not have you think I reflect on the others: no, I only mean that their penances are not so severe as in former days; yet this does not hinder but that the hermits of the present age may be good men. I look upon them to be such; at least, their appearance secures them from scandal: even the hypocrite that puts on the form of holiness, does less harm than the barefaced sinner."
As they went on in their discourse, they saw a man following them at a great pace on foot, and switching up a mule laden with lances and halberts. He presently overtook them, saluted them, and passed by. "Stay," cried Don Quixote, seeing him go so fast; "make no more haste than is consistent with good speed." "I cannot stay, sir," said the man; "for these weapons that you see must be used to-morrow morning; so, sir, as I am in haste, good bye; I shall lodge to-night at the inn beyond the hermitage; if you chance to go that way, there you may find me; and I will tell you strange news: so fare ye well." Then, whipping his mule, on he moved, so fast that Don Quixote had not leisure to ask him any more questions.

The knight, in order to satisfy his curiosity, proposed their holding straight on to the inn, without stopping at the hermitage, where the scholar designed to have stayed all night. They all consented, and made the best of their way. However, when they came near the hermitage, the scholar desired Don Quixote to call with him for a moment, and drink a glass of wine at the door. Sancho no sooner heard this proposed than he turned Dapple that way, and rode thither before; but, to his grief, the hospitable hermit was abroad, and nobody at home but the hermit's companion, who, being asked whether he had any strong liquor within, made answer, that he could not come at any; but as for water, he might have his fill. "Good!" quoth Sancho; "were mine a water-thirst, or had I any liking to your cold comfort, there are wells enough upon the road. Oh, the good cheer of Don Diego's, and at Camacho's wedding! when shall I find the like?" They now spurred on towards the inn, and soon overtook on the road a young fellow walking leisurely on before them. He carried his sword over his shoulder, with a bundle of clothes hanging upon it. He had on a tattered velvet jerkin, with a ragged satin lining; his stockings were of silk, and his shoes square at the toes, after the court fashion. He seemed about eighteen years of age--a pleasant-looking lad, and of a lively and active disposition. To pass the fatigue of his journey, he sung all the way; and, as they came near him, was just ending the last words of a ballad, which were these:
"For want of the pence to the wars I must go: Oh! had I but money it would not be so."
"So, young gentleman," said Don Quixote to him, "methinks you go very light and airy. Whither are you bound, I pray you?" "I am going to the wars, sir," answered the youth; "and for my travelling thus, heat and poverty will excuse it." "I admit the heat," replied Don Quixote; "but why poverty, I beseech you?" "Because I have no clothes to put on," replied the lad, "but what I carry in this bundle; and if I should wear them out upon the road, I should have nothing to make a handsome figure with in any town; for I have no money to buy new ones till I overtake a regiment of foot that lies about some twelve leagues off, where I design to enlist myself; and then I shall not want a conveniency to ride with the baggage till we come to Carthagena, where I hear they are to embark; for I had rather serve the king abroad, than any beggarly courtier at home." "But pray," said the scholar, "have not you laid up something while you were there?" "Had I served any of your grandees or great persons," said the young man, "I might have had a commission by this time; for their footboys are presently advanced to captains and lieutenants, or some other good post; but unhappily it was always my ill-fortune to serve pitiful upstarts and younger brothers; and my allowance was so ill paid, and so small, that the better half was scarce enough to wash my linen: how then should a poor page, who would make his fortune, come to any good in such a miserable service?" "But," said Don Quixote, "how comes it, that in all this time you could not get yourself a whole livery?" "Alack-a-day, sir," answered the lad, "I had a couple; but my master dealt with me as they do with novices in monasteries--if they go off before they profess, the fresh habit is taken from them, and they return them their own clothes. For you must know, that such as I served only buy liveries for a little ostentation; so, when they have made their appearance at court, they sneak down into the country; and then the poor servants are stripped, and must even betake themselves to their rags again."

"A sordid trick," said Don Quixote. "But you need not repine at leaving the court, since you do it with so good a design; for there is nothing in the world more commendable than to serve God in the first place, and the king in the next, especially in the profession of arms, which, if it does not procure a man so much riches as learning, may at least entitle him to more honour. It is true that more families have been advanced by the gown; but yet your gentlemen of the sword, whatever the reason of it is, have always I know not what advantage above the men of learning; and something of glory and splendour attends them, that makes them outshine the rest of mankind. But take my advice along with you, child: if you intend to raise yourself by military employment, I would not have you be uneasy with the thoughts of what misfortunes may befall you; the worst can be but to die, and if it be a good honourable death, your fortune is made, and you are certainly happy. Julius Caesar, that valiant Roman emperor, being asked what kind of death was best, 'That which is sudden and unexpected,' said he; and though he answered like a heathen, who knew not the true God, yet, with respect to human infirmities, it was very judicious; for, suppose you should be cut off at the very first engagement by a cannon-ball, or the spring of a mine, what matters it? it is but dying, and there is an end of the business. As Terence says, a soldier makes a better figure dead in the field of battle, than alive and safe in flight. The more likely he is to rise in fame and preferment, the better discipline he keeps; the better he obeys, the better he will know how to command; and pray observe, my friend, that it is more honourable for a soldier to smell of gunpowder than of musk and amber. Or, if old age overtakes you in this noble employment, though all over scars, though maimed and lame, you will still have honour to support you, and secure you from the contempt of poverty, nay, from poverty itself; for there is care taken that veterans and disabled soldiers may not want; neither are they to be used as some men do their negro slaves, who, when they are old and past service, are turned naked out of doors, under pretence of freedom, to be made greater slaves to cold and hunger--a slavery from which nothing but death can set the wretches free. But I will say no more to you on this subject at this time. Get up behind me, and I will carry you to the inn, where you shall sup with me, and to-morrow morning make the best of your way; and may Heaven prosper your good designs."
The page excused himself from riding behind the knight, but accepted of his invitation to supper very willingly. Sancho, who had all the while given ear to his master's discourse, is said to have been more than usually surprised, hearing him talk so wisely. Now blessings on thee, master, thought he to himself; how comes it about, that a man who says so many good things should relate such ridiculous stories and whimsies as he would have us believe of Montesinos' cave? By this time it began to grow dark, and they arrived at the inn, where Don Quixote alighting, asked presently for the man with the lances and halberts. The innkeeper answered, that he was rubbing down his mule in the stable. Sancho was very well pleased to be at his journey's end; and the more that his master took the house for a real inn, and not for a castle, as he used to do.

CHAPTER LVII.
Where you find the grounds of the braying adventures, that of the Puppet-player, and the memorable divining of the fortune-telling Ape.

Don Quixote was on thorns to know the strange story that the fellow upon the road engaged to tell him; so that, going into the stable, he minded him of his promise, and pressed him to relate the whole matter. "My story will take up some time," quoth the man, "and is not to be told standing: have a little patience; let me make an end of serving my mule, and then I will tell your worship such things as will make you stare." "Do not let that hinder you," replied Don Quixote; "for I will help you myself." And so saying, he lent him a helping hand, cleansing the manger, and sifting the barley; which humble compliance obliged the fellow to tell his tale the more willingly; so that, seating himself upon a bench, with Don Quixote, the scholar, the page, Sancho, and the innkeeper about him, he began in this manner:

"It happened on a time, that in a borough about four leagues from this place, one of the aldermen lost his ass. They say it was by the roguery of his maid-servant; but that is neither here nor there--the ass was lost and gone, that is certain; and what is more, it could not be found neither high nor low. This same ass had been missing about a fortnight, when another alderman of the same town, meeting the other in the market-place, 'Brother,' quoth he, 'pay me well, and I will tell you news of your ass.' 'Troth!' replied the other 'that I will; but then let me know where the poor beast is.' 'Why,' answered the other, 'this morning, what should I meet upon the mountains yonder but he, without either pack-saddle or furniture, and so lean that it grieved my heart to see him; but yet so wild and skittish, that when I would have driven him home before me, he ran away as if possessed, and got into the thickest of the wood. Now, if you please, we will both go and look for him: I will but step home first and put up this ass, then I will come back to you, and we will set about it.' 'Truly, brother,' said the other, 'I am mightily beholden to you, and will do as much for you another time.' In short, the two aldermen, hand in hand, trudged up the hills, and hunted up and down; but after many a weary step, no ass was to be found. Upon which, quoth the alderman that had seen him to the other: 'Hark ye, brother; I have a device to find out this same ass of yours, though he were underground, as you shall hear. You must know, I can bray to admiration; and if you can but bray never so little, the job is done.' 'Never so little!' cried the other; 'I will undertake to bray with any ass or alderman in the land.' 'Well, then,' quoth the other, 'my contrivance is, that you go on one side of the hill, and I on the other; sometimes you shall bray, and sometimes I; so that, if your ass be but thereabouts, my life for yours, he will be sure to answer, and bray again.' 'Gramercy, brother,' quoth the other, 'a rare device! let you alone for plotting.' They parted according to agreement; and when they were far enough off, they both fell a-braying so perfectly well that they cheated one another; and meeting, each in hopes to find the ass, 'Is it possible, brother,' said the owner of the ass, 'that it was not my ass that brayed?' 'No, marry, that it was not; it was I,' answered the other alderman. 'Well, brother,' cried the owner, 'then there is no manner of difference between you and an ass, as to the matter of braying; I never heard any thing so natural in my life.' 'Oh, sir,' quoth the other, 'I am nothing to you; you shall lay two to one against the best brayer in the kingdom, and I will go your halves. Your voice is lofty, and of a great compass; you keep excellent time, and hold out a note rarely, and your cadence is full and ravishing. In short, sir, I knock under the table, and yield you the bays.' 'Well, then, brother,' answered the owner, 'I shall always have the better opinion of myself for this one good quality; for though I knew I brayed pretty well, I never thought myself so great a master before.' After these compliments, they parted again, and went braying, this on one side of the hill, and that on the other. But all to no purpose; for they still deceived one another with their braying, and, running to the noise, met one another as before.
"At last they agreed to bray twice one after another, that by that token they might be sure it was not the ass, but they that brayed. But all in vain--they almost brayed their hearts out, but no answer from the ass. And indeed, how could it, poor creature, when they found him at last in the wood half-eaten by the wolves? 'Alack-a-day! poor Grizzle,' cried the owner; 'I do not wonder now he took so little notice of his loving master. Had he been alive, as sure as he was an ass, he would have brayed again. But let him go; this comfort I have at least, brother; though I have lost him, I have found out that rare talent of yours that has hugely solaced me under this affliction.' 'The glass is in a good hand, Mr. Alderman,' quoth the other, 'and if the abbot sings well, the young monk is not much behind him.'

"With this, these same aldermen, very much disappointed as well as very hoarse, went home and told all their neighbours the whole story word for word; one praising the other's skill in braying, and the other returning the compliment. In short, one got it by the end, and the other got it by the end; the boys got it, and all the idle fellows got it, and there was such a brawling and such a braying in our town, that nothing else was to be heard. But the thing did not stop here; our neighbouring towns had it too; and when they saw any of our townsfolk, they fell a-braying, hitting us in the teeth with the braying of our aldermen. This made ill blood between us; for we took it in mighty dudgeon, as well we might, and came to words upon it, and from words to blows; for the people of our town are well known by this, as the beggar knows his dish, and are apt to be jeered wheresoever they go. And they have carried the jest so far, that I believe to-morrow or next day, the men of our town, to wit, the brayers, will be in the field against those of another town about two leagues off, that are always plaguing us. Now, that we should be well provided, I have brought these lances and halberts that ye saw me carry. So this is my story, gentlefolks; and if it be not a strange one, I am mistaken."
Here the honest man ended; when presently enters a fellow dressed in trousers and doublet all of shamoy leather, and calling out, as if he were somebody: "Landlord," cried he, "have you any lodgings? for here comes the fortune-telling ape, and the puppet-show of Melisandra's deliverance." "Ha!" cried the innkeeper, "who have we here? Master Peter? We shall have a merry night then. Honest Master Peter, you are welcome with all my heart; but where is the ape and the show?" "They will be here presently," said Peter; "I only came before to see if you had any lodgings." "Lodging, man," said the innkeeper; "I would turn out the Duke of Alva himself rather than Master Peter should want room. Come, bring in your things, for here are guests that will be good customers to you, I warrant." "That is worth hearing," said Peter; "and to encourage them I will lower my prices; and if I can but get my charges to-night, I will look for no more; so I will hasten forward the cart." This said, he ran out of the door again.
Don Quixote inquired who this Master Peter was, and what his ape and his show. "Why, sir," answered the innkeeper, "he has strolled about the country this great while with a curious puppet-show, which represents the play of Melisandra and Don Gayferos, one of the best shows that has been acted time out of mind in this kingdom. Then he has an ape: such an ape, sir; but I will say no more--you shall see, sir. It will tell you every thing you ever did in your life. The like was never seen before. Ask him a question, it will listen to you; and then, whip, up it leaps on its master's shoulder, and whispers first in his ear what it knows, and then Master Peter tells you. He tells you what is to come, as well as what is past: it is true, he does not always hit so pat as to what is to come; but after all, he is seldom in the wrong. Two reals is the price for every question he answers, or his master for him, which is all one, you know; and that will mount to money at the year's end, so that it is thought the rogue is well to pass; and, indeed, much good may it do him, for he is a notable fellow and a good companion; talks for six men, and drinks for a dozen; and all this he gets by his tongue, his ape, and his show."

By this time Peter had come back with his puppet-show and his ape in a cart. Don Quixote immediately accosted him: "Mr. Fortune-teller," said he, "will you be pleased to tell us what fish we shall catch, and what will become of us, and here is your fee?" Saying this, he ordered Sancho to deliver Master Peter two reals. "Sir," answered Peter, "this animal gives no account of things to come; he knows something, indeed, of matters past, and a little of the present." "I would not give a brass jack," cried Sancho, "to know what is past; for who knows that better than myself? I am not so foolish as to pay for what I know already: but since you say he has such a knack at guessing the present, let him tell me what my wife Teresa is doing at this moment, and here are my two reals." "I will have nothing of you beforehand," said Master Peter: so, clapping himself on his left shoulder, up skipped the ape thither at one frisk, and, laying his mouth to his ear, grated his teeth; and having made some grimaces and a chattering noise for a minute or two, with another skip down he leaped upon the ground. Immediately upon this, Master Peter ran to Don Quixote, and fell on his knees, and embracing his legs, "O glorious restorer of knight-errantry," cried he, "I embrace these legs as I would the pillars of Hercules! Who can sufficiently extol the great Don Quixote de la Mancha, the reviver of drooping hearts, the prop and stay of the falling, the raiser of the fallen, and the staff of comfort to the weak and afflicted!"
At these words Don Quixote stood amazed, Sancho quaked, the page wondered, the brayer blessed himself, the innkeeper stared, and the scholar was in a brown study, all astonished at Master Peter's speech, who then, turning to Sancho, "And thou, honest Sancho Panza," said he, "the best squire to the best knight in the world, bless thy good stars, for thy good spouse Teresa is a good housewife, and is at this instant dressing a pound of flax; she has standing by her, on her left hand, a large broken-mouthed jug, which holds a pretty scantling of wine, to cheer up her spirits." "Truly," quoth Sancho, "that is likely enough, for she is a merry soul; were it not for a spice of jealousy that she has now and then, I would not change her for the giantess Andondona herself, who, in my master's opinion, was a brave lady, and a famous housewife." "Well," said Don Quixote, "great is the knowledge procured by reading, travel, and experience. What on earth but the testimony of my own eyes could have persuaded me that apes had the gift of divination! I am indeed the same Don Quixote de la Mancha mentioned by this ingenious animal, though I must confess somewhat undeserving of so great a character as it has pleased him to bestow on me; but nevertheless I am not sorry to have charity and compassion bear so great a part in my commendation, since my nature has always disposed me to do good to all men, and hurt to none."
"Now, had I but money," said the page, "I would know of Mr. Ape what luck I should have in the wars." "I have told you already," said Master Peter, who was got up from before Don Quixote, "that this ape does not meddle with what is to come; but if he could, it should cost you nothing, for Don Quixote's sake, whom to oblige, I would sacrifice all the interest I have in the world; and, as a mark of it, gentlemen, I freely set up my show, and give all the company in the house some diversion gratis." The innkeeper hearing this, was overjoyed; and ordered Master Peter a convenient room to set up his show, which he immediately went about.

In the meantime Don Quixote, who could not believe that an ape could do all this, taking Sancho into a corner, "Look ye, Sancho," said he, "I have been weighing and considering the wonderful gifts of this ape, and I suspect Master Peter must have made a secret compact with the devil. The ape's knowledge is exactly of the same proportion with the devil's, which only extends to the discovery of things past and present, having no insight into futurity but by such probable conjectures and conclusions as may be deduced from the former working of antecedent causes, true prescience and prediction being the sacred prerogative of God, to whose all-seeing eyes, all ages, past, present, and to come, without the distinction of succession and termination, are always present. From this, I say, it is apparent this ape is but the organ through which the devil delivers his answers to those that ask it questions; and this same rogue should be put into the Inquisition, and have the truth pressed out of his bones." "For all that," said Sancho, "I would have you ask Master Peter's ape, whether the passages you told us concerning Montesinos' cave be true or no; for, saving the respect I owe your worship, I take them to be no better than idle stories, or dreams at the least." "You may think what you will," answered Don Quixote; "however, I will do as you would have me, although I feel some scruples on the subject."
Master Peter now came in and told Don Quixote that the show was ready to begin, and desired him to come and see it, for he was sure his worship would like it. The knight told him he had a question to put to his ape first, and desired he might tell him whether certain things that happened to him in Montesinos' cave were dreams or realities, for he doubted they had something of both in them. Master Peter fetched his ape immediately, and placing him just before the knight and his squire. "Look you," said he, "Mr. Ape, this worthy knight would have you tell him whether some things which happened to him in Montesinos' cave are true or no?" Then, upon the usual signal, the ape jumping upon Master Peter's left shoulder, chattered his answer into his ear, which the interpreter delivered thus to the inquirer: "The ape, sir, says that part of those things are false, and part of them true, which is all he can resolve ye as to this question; and now his virtue has left him, and won't return till Friday next. If you would know any more, you must stay till then, and he will answer as many questions as you please." "Ah, you there now!" quoth Sancho, "did not I tell you that all you told us of Montesinos' cave would not hold water?" "That the event will determine," replied the knight, "which we must leave to process of time to produce; for it brings every thing to light, though buried in the bowels of the earth. No more of this at present: let us now see the puppet-show; I fancy we shall find something in it worth seeing." "Something!" said Master Peter; "sir, you shall see a thousand things worth seeing. I tell you, sir, I defy the world to shew such another. I say no more: Operibus credite, et non verbis. But now let us begin, for it grows late, and we have much to do, say, and shew."
Don Quixote and Sancho complied, and went into the room where the show stood, with a good number of small wax-lights glimmering round about, that made it shine gloriously. Master Peter got to his station within; and his boy stood before, to tell what the puppets said, and with a white wand in his hand to explain the several figures as they came in. Then all the audience having taken their places, Don Quixote, Sancho, the scholar, and the page, being preferred to the rest, the boy began a story that shall be heard or seen by those who will take the pains to read or hear the next chapter.