In a village of La Mancha, whose name I do not remember, not long lived one of those gentlemen of lance and ancient shield, a lean hack and a greyhound for coursing. A pot of rather more beef than mutton, a salad on most nights, duels and on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, and a pigeon or so extra on Sundays, the three parts of his estate. The rest della concluded broadcloth gown of velvet breeches and shoes for the holidays, with slippers of the same; and days of weekdays were honored with vellorí of the finest. He had in his house a housekeeper past forty, a niece under twenty, and a farmhand and square, so saddle the hack as the billhook. Was approaching the age of our gentleman with the fifty years, was of tough, dry meat, lean-faced, very early riser and fond of hunting. They will have it his surname was Quijada or Quesada, for here there is a difference in referring to this case the authors write, though, for plausible conjecture, it is plain they called Quejana. But this matters little to our story, just as in the story of him not to stray a point of truth.
It is, therefore, to know that the above named gentleman whenever he was at leisure, which were most of the year was given to reading books of chivalry with such ardor and avidity that he almost entirely the exercise of hunting, and even the management of his estate. And it came to his eagerness and infatuation go that he sold many an acre of land for sowing to buy books of chivalry to read, and so brought home all those who might have of them; and all were none he liked so well as he composed the famous Feliciano de Silva, for the clarity of his prose and his reasons entricadas those seemed pearls, and when I got to read those compliments and cartels, where he often found written: The reason for the unreason with which my reason is, so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur at your beauty. And when I read: … the high heavens that of your divinity divinely fortify you with the stars and make you worthy of merit that deserves your highness.