DON QUIXOTE

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On hearing this Sancho broke silence and cried out, "By all that's good,
I'll as soon let my face be smacked or handled as turn Moor. Body o' me!
What has handling my face got to do with the resurrection of this damsel?
'The old woman took kindly to the blits; they enchant Dulcinea, and whip
me in order to disenchant her; Altisidora dies of ailments God was
pleased to send her, and to bring her to life again they must give me
four-and-twenty smacks, and prick holes in my body with pins, and raise
weals on my arms with pinches! Try those jokes on a brother-in-law; 'I'm
an old dog, and "tus, tus" is no use with me.'"

"Thou shalt die," said Rhadamanthus in a loud voice; "relent, thou tiger;
humble thyself, proud Nimrod; suffer and be silent, for no
impossibilities are asked of thee; it is not for thee to inquire into the
difficulties in this matter; smacked thou must be, pricked thou shalt see
thyself, and with pinches thou must be made to howl. Ho, I say,
officials, obey my orders; or by the word of an honest man, ye shall see
what ye were born for."