to provide for thy ass, since upon my shoulders thou hast laid the
support of thyself, the counterpoise and burden that nature and custom
have imposed upon masters. The servant sleeps and the master lies awake
thinking how he is to feed him, advance him, and reward him. The distress
of seeing the sky turn brazen, and withhold its needful moisture from the
earth, is not felt by the servant but by the master, who in time of
scarcity and famine must support him who has served him in times of
plenty and abundance."

To all this Sancho made no reply because he was asleep, nor would he have
wakened up so soon as he did had not Don Quixote brought him to his
senses with the butt of his lance. He awoke at last, drowsy and lazy, and
casting his eyes about in every direction, observed, "There comes, if I
don't mistake, from the quarter of that arcade a steam and a smell a
great deal more like fried rashers than galingale or thyme; a wedding
that begins with smells like that, by my faith, ought to be plentiful and
unstinting."

"Have done, thou glutton," said Don Quixote; "come, let us go and witness
this bridal, and see what the rejected Basilio does."

"Let him do what he likes," returned Sancho; "be he not poor, he would
marry Quiteria. To make a grand match for himself, and he without a
farthing; is there nothing else? Faith, senor, it's my opinion the poor
man should be content with what he can get, and not go looking for
dainties in the bottom of the sea. I will bet my arm that Camacho could
bury Basilio in reals; and if that be so, as no doubt it is, what a fool
Quiteria would be to refuse the fine dresses and jewels Camacho must have
given her and will give her, and take Basilio's bar-throwing and
sword-play. They won't give a pint of wine at the tavern for a good cast