I’m off to the wars For the want of pence, Oh, had I but money I’d show more sense.
The first to address him was Don Quixote, who said, “You travel very airily, sir gallant; whither bound, may we ask, if it is your pleasure to tell us?”
To which the youth replied, “The heat and my poverty are the reason of my travelling so airily, and it is to the wars that I am bound.”
“How poverty?” asked Don Quixote; “the heat one can understand.”
“Señor,” replied the youth, “in this bundle I carry velvet pantaloons to match this jacket; if I wear them out on the road, I shall not be able to make a decent appearance in them in the city, and I have not the wherewithal to buy others; and so for this reason, as well as to keep myself cool, I am making my way in this fashion to overtake some companies of infantry that are not twelve leagues off, in which I shall enlist, and there will be no want of baggage trains to travel with after that to the place of embarkation, which they say will be Carthagena; I would rather have the King for a master, and serve him in the wars, than serve a court pauper.”
“And did you get any bounty, now?” asked the cousin.
“If I had been in the service of some grandee of Spain or personage of distinction,” replied the youth, “I should have been safe to get it; for that is the advantage of serving good masters, that out of the servants’ hall men come to be ancients or captains, or get a good pension. But I, to my misfortune, always served place-hunters and adventurers, whose keep and wages were so miserable and scanty that half went in paying for the starching of one’s collars; it would be a miracle indeed if a page volunteer ever got anything like a reasonable bounty.”