were piled on hyperboles!  Thou alone, on foot, intrepid and magnanimous, with nothing but a sword, and that none of the sharpest, with thy single shield, and that none of the brightest, stoodst ready to receive and encounter the two fiercest lions that ever roared within the Libyan deserts.  Then let thine own deeds speak thy praise, brave champion of La Mancha, while I am obliged to leave off, for want of words to maintain the flight.”  Here ended the author’s exclamation, and the history goes on.

The keeper, observing the posture Don Quixote had put himself in, and that it was not possible for him to prevent letting out the lions, without incurring the resentment of the desperate knight, set the door of the foremost cage wide open; where, as I have said, was the male lion, who appeared of a monstrous bigness and of a hideous, frightful aspect.  The first thing he did was to turn himself round in his cage, stretch out one of his paws, and rouse himself.  After that he gaped and yawned for a good while, and then thrust out almost two spans of tongue, and with it licked the dust out of his eyes and face.  Having done this, he thrust his head out of the cage, and stared about with his eyes that looked like two live coals; a sight and motion enough to have struck terror into temerity itself.  But Don Quixote only regarded it with attention, wishing he would leap out of the wagon, and come within his reach, that he might cut the monster piecemeal.  To this height had his incredible folly transported him; but the generous lion, more gentle than arrogant, taking no notice of his vaporing and bravados, after he had looked about him awhile, turned his tail, and having showed Don Quixote his hinder parts, very contentedly lay down again in his apartment.

Don Quixote, seeing this, commanded the keeper to rouse him with blows, and force him out.  “Not I, indeed, sir,” answered the keeper; “I dare not do it for my life; for if I provoke him, I am sure to be the first he will tear to pieces.  Let me advise you, sir, to be satisfied with your day’s work.  ’Tis as much as the bravest can pretend to do.  Then pray go no further, I beseech you:  the door stands open, the lion is at his choice, whether he will come out or no, and since he did not come out at the first, I dare engage he will not stir out this day.  You have shown enough the greatness of your courage.  No brave combatant is obliged to do more than challenge his enemy, and wait for him in the field.  If he comes not, that is his fault, and the scandal is his, and the crown of victory is the challenger’s.”

“’Tis true,” replied Don Quixote.  “Come, shut the door, honest friend, and give me a certificate under thy hand, in the amplest form thou canst, of what thou hast seen me perform; how thou didst open the cage for the lion; how I expected his coming, and he did not come out; how I stayed his own time, and instead of meeting me, he turned tail and lay down, I am obliged to do no more.