ittle smattering of Italian, and I
plume myself on singing some of Ariosto's stanzas; but tell me, senor--I
do not say this to test your ability, but merely out of curiosity--have
you ever met with the word pignatta in your book?"

"Yes, often," said the author.

"And how do you render that in Spanish?"

"How should I render it," returned the author, "but by olla?"

"Body o' me," exclaimed Don Quixote, "what a proficient you are in the
Italian language! I would lay a good wager that where they say in Italian
piace you say in Spanish place, and where they say piu you say mas, and
you translate su by arriba and giu by abajo."

"I translate them so of course," said the author, "for those are their
proper equivalents."

"I would venture to swear," said Don Quixote, "that your worship is not
known in the world, which always begrudges their reward to rare wits and
praiseworthy labours. What talents lie wasted there! What genius thrust
away into corners! What worth left neglected! Still it seems to me that
translation from one language into another, if it be not from the queens
of languages, the Greek and the Latin, is like looking at Flemish
tapestries on the wrong side; for though the figures are visible, they
are full of threads that make them indistinct, and they do not show with
the smoothness and brightness of the right side; and translation from
easy languages argues neither ingenuity nor command of words, any more
than transcribing or copying out one document from another. But I do not
mean by this to draw the inference that no credit is to be allowed for
the work of translating, for a man may employ himself in ways worse and
less profitable to himself. This estimate does not include two famous
translators, Doctor Cristobal de Figueroa, in his Pastor Fido, and Don
Juan de Jauregui, in his Aminta, wherein by their felicity they leave it
in doubt which is the translation and which the original. But tell me,
are you printing this book at your own risk, or have you sold the
copyright to some bookseller?"

"I print at my own risk," said the author, "and I expect to make a
thousand ducats at least by this first edition, which is to be of two
thousand copies that will go off in a twinkling at six reals apiece."

"A fine calculation you are making!" said Don Quixote; "it is plain you
don't know the ins and outs of the printers, and how they play into one
another's hands. I promise you when you find yourself saddled wit