hem all came a wooden castle drawn by four wild
men, all clad in ivy and hemp stained green, and looking so natural that
they nearly terrified Sancho. On the front of the castle and on each of
the four sides of its frame it bore the inscription "Castle of Caution."
Four skillful tabor and flute players accompanied them, and the dance
having been opened, Cupid, after executing two figures, raised his eyes
and bent his bow against a damsel who stood between the turrets of the
castle, and thus addressed her:

I am the mighty God whose sway
Is potent over land and sea.
The heavens above us own me; nay,
The shades below acknowledge me.
I know not fear, I have my will,
Whate'er my whim or fancy be;
For me there's no impossible,
I order, bind, forbid, set free.

Having concluded the stanza he discharged an arrow at the top of the
castle, and went back to his place. Interest then came forward and went
through two more figures, and as soon as the tabors ceased, he said:

But mightier than Love am I,
Though Love it be that leads me on,
Than mine no lineage is more high,
Or older, underneath the sun.
To use me rightly few know how,
To act without me fewer still,
For I am Interest, and I vow
For evermore to do thy will.

Interest retired, and Poetry came forward, and when she had gone through
her figures like the others, fixing her eyes on the damsel of the castle,
she said:

With many a fanciful conceit,
Fair Lady, winsome Poesy
Her soul, an offering at thy feet,
Presents in sonnets unto thee.
If thou my homage wilt not scorn,
Thy fortune, watched by envious eyes,
On wings of poesy upborne
Shall be exalted to the skies.

Poetry withdrew, and on the side of Interest Liberality advanced, and
after having gone through her figures, said:

To give, while shunning each extreme,
The sparing hand, the over-free,
Therein consists, so wise men deem,
The virtue Liberality.
But thee, fair lady, to enrich,
Myself a prodigal I'll prove,
A vice not wholly shameful, which
May find its fair excuse in love.

In the same manner all the characters of the two bands advanced and
retired, and each executed its figures, and delivered its verses, some of
them graceful, some burlesque, but Don Quixote's memory (though he had an
excellent one) only carried away those that have been just quoted. All
then mingled together, forming chains and breaking off again with
graceful, unconstrained gaiety; and whe