"I know a good remedy for that," said he of the Grove; "I have here two

linen bags of the same size; you shall take one, and I the other, and we

will fight at bag blows with equal arms."

"If that's the way, so be it with all my heart," said Sancho, "for that

sort of battle will serve to knock the dust out of us instead of hurting

us."

"That will not do," said the other, "for we must put into the bags, to

keep the wind from blowing them away, half a dozen nice smooth pebbles,

all of the same weight; and in this way we shall be able to baste one

another without doing ourselves any harm or mischief."

"Body of my father!" said Sancho, "see what marten and sable, and pads of

carded cotton he is putting into the bags, that our heads may not be

broken and our bones beaten to jelly! But even if they are filled with

toss silk, I can tell you, senor, I am not going to fight; let our

masters fight, that's their lookout, and let us drink and live; for time

will take care to ease us of our lives, without our going to look for

fillips so that they may be finished off before their proper time comes

and they drop from ripeness."

"Still," returned he of the Grove, "we must fight, if it be only for half

an hour."

"By no means," said Sancho; "I am not going to be so discourteous or so

ungrateful as to have any quarrel, be it ever so small, with one I have

eaten and drunk with; besides, who the devil could bring himself to fight

in cold blood, without anger or provocation?"

"I can remedy that entirely," said he of the Grove, "and in this way:

before we begin the battle, I will come up to your worship fair and

softly, and give you three or four buffets, with which I shall stretch

you at my feet and rouse your anger, though it were sleeping sounder than

a dormouse."

"To match that plan," said Sancho, "I have another that is not a whit

behind it; I will take a cudgel, and before your worship comes near

enough to waken my anger I will send yours so sound to sleep with whacks,

that it won't waken unless it be in the other world, where it is known

that I am not a man to let my face be handled by anyone; let each look

out for the arrow--though the surer way would be to let everyone's anger

sleep, for nobody knows the heart of anyone, and a man may come for wool

and go back shorn; God gave his blessing to peace and his curse to

quarrels; if a hunted cat, surrounded and hard pressed, turns into a

lion, God knows what I, who am a man, may turn into; and so from this

time forth I warn you, sir squire, that all the harm and mischief that

may come of our quarrel will be put down to your account."




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