to scour a suit of armor that had belonged
to his great-grandfather, and had lain time out of mind carelessly
rusting in a corner; but when he had cleaned and repaired it as well
as he could, he perceived there was a material piece wanting; for,
instead of a complete helmet, there was only a single headpiece.
However, his industry supplied that defect; for with some pasteboard
he made a kind of half-beaver, or vizor, which, being fitted to the
headpiece, made it look like an entire helmet. Then, to know whether
it were cutlass-proof, he drew his sword, and tried its edge upon the
pasteboard vizor; but with the very first stroke he unluckily undid in
a moment what he had been a whole week a-doing. He did not like its
being broken with so much ease, and therefore, to secure it from the
like accident, he made it anew, and fenced it with thin plates of
iron, which he fixed on the inside of it so artificially that at last
he had reason to be satisfied with the solidity of the work; and so,
without any further experiment, he resolved it should pass to all
intents and purposes for a full and sufficient helmet.

It was time to look to his horse, who had more false quarter than
real, being a worse jade than Gonela's, _qui tantum pellis et ossa
fuit_; however, his master thought that neither Alexander's Bucephalus
nor the Cid's Babieca could be compared with him. He was four days
considering what name to give him; for, as he argued with himself,
there was no reason that a horse bestrid by so famous a knight, and
withal so excellent in himself, should not be distinguished by a
particular name; and therefore he studied to give him such a one as
should demonstrate as well what kind of horse he had been before his
master was a knight-errant, as what he was now; thinking it but just,
since the owner changed his profession, that the horse should also
change his title, and be dignified with another; a good big word, such
a one as should fill the mouth, and seem consonant with the quality
and profession of his master. And thus, after many names which he
devised, rejected, changed, liked, disliked, and pitched upon again,
he concluded to call him Rozinante; a name, in his opinion, lofty,
sounding, and significant of what he had been before, and also of what
he was now; in a word, a horse before, or above, all the vulgar breed
of horses in the world.

When he had thus given his horse a name so much to his satisfaction,
he thought of cho