“But what more have I to see besides what I have seen?” said Sancho.

“Much thou knowest about it!” said Don Quixote. “I have now got to tear up my garments, to scatter about my armour, knock my head against these rocks, and more of the same sort of thing, which thou must witness.”

“For the love of God,” said Sancho, “be careful, your worship, how you give yourself those knocks on the head, for you may come across such a rock, and in such a way, that the very first may put an end to the whole contrivance of this penance; and I should think, if indeed knocks on the head seem necessary to you, and this business cannot be done without them, you might be content⁠—as the whole thing is feigned, and counterfeit, and in joke⁠—you might be content, I say, with giving them to yourself in the water, or against something soft, like cotton; and leave it all to me; for I’ll tell my lady that your worship knocked your head against a point of rock harder than a diamond.”