Chap. XII.
TRANSLATION.
187
know not how many cragged ends and knobs, and every one of them gave my master a token of its kindness. And by the way, forsooth, continued he, I beseech you save a little of that same tow and ointment for me too, for I don't know what's the matter with my back, but I fancy I stand mainly in want of a little greasing too. What, I suppose you fell too, quoth the landlady. Not I, quoth Sancho, but the very fright that I took to see my master tumble down the rock, has so wrought upon my body, that I am as sore as if I had been sadly mawled."
Translation by Smollet.
"In this wretched bed Don Quixote having laid himself down, was anoint-"ed
