There are passions, transient, fleeting,
Loves in hostelries declar'd,
Sunrise loves, with sunset ended,
When the guest hath gone his way.

Love that springs up swift and sudden,
Here to-day, to-morrow flown,
Passes, leaves no trace behind it,
Leaves no image on the soul.

Painting that is laid on painting
Maketh no display or show;
Where one beauty's in possession
There no other can take hold.

Dulcinea del Toboso
Painted on my heart I wear;
Never from its tablets, never,
Can her image be eras'd.

The quality of all in lovers
Most esteemed is constancy;
'T is by this that love works wonders,
This exalts them to the skies.

Don Quixote had got so far with his song, to which the duke, the duchess,
Altisidora, and nearly the whole household of the castle were listening,
when all of a sudden from a gallery above that was exactly over his
window they let down a cord with more than a hundred bells attached to
it, and immediately after that discharged a great sack full of cats,