tely plays the fool may leave off when he
thinks fit."

Heaven knows the truth of all things.

The ancient sages, who were not enlightened with the
knowledge of the true God, reckoned the gifts of fortune and
nature, abundance of friends, and increase of dutiful
children, as constituting part of the supreme happiness.

Letters without virtue are like pearls on a dunghill.

DON QUIXOTE ON POETRY.

Poetry I regard as a tender virgin, young and extremely beautiful, whom
divers other virgins--namely, all the other sciences--are assiduous to
enrich, to polish, and adorn. She is to be served by them, and they are
to be ennobled through her. But the same virgin is not to be rudely
handled, nor dragged through the streets, nor exposed in the
market-places, nor posted on the corners of gates of palaces. She is of
so exquisite a nature that he who knows how to treat her will convert
her into gold of the most inestimable value. He who possesses her should
guard her with vigilance; neither suffering her to be polluted by
obscene, nor degraded by dull and frivolous works. Although she must be
in no wise venal, she is not, therefore, to despise the fair reward of
honorable labors, either in heroic or dramatic composition. Buffoons
must not come near her, neither must she be approached by the ignorant
vulgar, who have no sense of her charms; and this term is equally
applicable to all ranks, for whoever is ignorant is vulgar. He,
therefore, who, with the qualifications I have named, devotes himself to
poetry, will be honored and esteemed by all nations distinguished for
intellectual cultivation.

Indeed, it is generally said that the gift of poesy is innate--that is,
a poet is born a poet, and, thus endowed by Heaven, apparently without
study or art, composes things which verify the saying, _Est Deus in
nobis_, etc. Thus the poet of nature, who improves himself by art, rises
far above him who is merely the creature of study. Art may improve, but
cannot surpass nature; and, therefore, it is the union of both which
produces the perfect poet.

Let him direct the shafts of satire against vice, in all its various
forms, but not level them at individuals, like some who, rather than not
indulge their mischievous wit, will hazard a disgraceful banishment to
the Isles of Pontus. If the poet be correct in his morals, his verse
will partake of the same purity: the pen is the tongue of the mind, and
what his conceptions ar