The Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves | Page 9

the money from our pockets than sense into our skulls. Vor my own
part, I was once cheated of vorty good shillings by one of your broother
cups and balls." In all probability he would have descended to
particulars, had he not been seized with a return of his nausea, which
obliged him to call for a bumper of brandy. This remedy being
swallowed, the tumult in his stomach subsided. He desired he might be
put to bed without delay, and that half a dozen eggs and a pound of
bacon might, in a couple of hours, be dressed for his supper.

He was accordingly led off the scene by the landlady and her daughter;
and Mr. Ferret had just time to observe the fellow was a composition,
in which he did not know whether knave or fool most predominated,
when the master returned from the stable. He had taken off his helmet,
and now displayed a very engaging countenance. His age did not seem
to exceed thirty. He was tall, and seemingly robust; his face long and
oval, his nose aquiline, his mouth furnished with a set of elegant teeth,
white as the drifted snow, his complexion clear, and his aspect noble.
His chestnut hair loosely flowed in short natural curls; and his grey
eyes shone with such vivacity, as plainly showed that his reason was a
little discomposed. Such an appearance prepossessed the greater part of
the company in his favour. He bowed round with the most polite and
affable address; inquired about his squire, and, being informed of the
pains Mr. Fillet had taken for his recovery, insisted upon that
gentleman's accepting a handsome gratuity. Then, in consideration of
the cold bath he had undergone, he was prevailed upon to take the post
of honour; namely, the great chair fronting the fire, which was
reinforced with a billet of wood for his comfort and convenience.
Perceiving his fellow-travellers, either overawed into silence by his
presence, or struck dumb with admiration at his equipage, he accosted
them in these words, while an agreeable smile dimpled on his cheek:--
"The good company wonders, no doubt, to see a man cased in armour,
such as hath been for above a whole century disused in this and every
other country of Europe; and perhaps they will be still more surprised,
when they hear that man profess himself a novitiate of that military
order, which hath of old been distinguished in Great Britain, as well as
through all Christendom, by the name of knights-errant. Yes,
gentlemen, in that painful and thorny path of toil and danger I have
begun my career, a candidate for honest fame; determined, as far as in
me lies, to honour and assert the efforts of virtue; to combat vice in all
her forms, redress injuries, chastise oppression, protect the helpless and
forlorn, relieve the indigent, exert my best endeavours in the cause of
innocence and beauty, and dedicate my talents, such as they are, to the
service of my country."

"What!" said Ferret, "you set up for a modern Don Quixote? The
scheme is rather too stale and extravagant. What was a humorous
romance and well-timed satire in Spain near two hundred years ago,
will make but a sorry jest, and appear equally insipid and absurd when
really acted from affectation, at this time of day, in a country like
England."
The knight, eyeing this censor with a look of disdain, replied, in a
solemn, lofty tone: "He that from affectation imitates the
extravagancies recorded of Don Quixote, is an impostor equally wicked
and contemptible. He that counterfeits madness, unless he dissembles,
like the elder Brutus, for some virtuous purpose, not only debases his
own soul, but acts as a traitor to Heaven, by denying the divinity that is
within him. I am neither an affected imitator of Don Quixote, nor, as I
trust in Heaven, visited by that spirit of lunacy so admirably displayed
in the fictitious character exhibited by the inimitable Cervantes. I have
not yet encountered a windmill for a giant, nor mistaken this
public-house for a magnificent castle; neither do I believe this
gentleman to be the constable; nor that worthy practitioner to be Master
Elizabat, the surgeon recorded in Amadis de Gaul; nor you to be the
enchanter Alquife, nor any other sage of history or romance; I see and
distinguish objects as they are discerned and described by other men. I
reason without prejudice, can endure contradiction, and, as the
company perceives, even bear impertinent censure without passion or
resentment. I quarrel with none but the foes of virtue and decorum,
against whom I have declared perpetual war, and them I will
everywhere attack as the natural enemies of mankind."
"But that war," said the cynic, "may soon be brought to a conclusion,