"Then," replied Sancho, "the bodies and relics of saints have this power and grace, and these privileges, or how do you call them, and with the license of our holy mother church have their lamps, winding-sheets, crutches, pictures, perukes, eyes, and legs, whereby they increase people's devotion and spread abroad their own Christian fame. Kings themselves carry the bodies or relics of saints upon their shoulders, kiss the fragments of their bones, and adorn their chapels and most favorite altars with them."
"Certainly, but what wouldst thou infer from all this, Sancho?" quoth Don Quixote.
"What I mean," said Sancho, "is, that we had better turn saints immediately, and we shall then soon get that fame we are seeking after. And pray take notice, sir, that it was but yesterday—I mean very lately—a couple of poor barefooted friars were canonized, and people now reckon it a greater happiness to touch or kiss the iron chains that bound them, and which are now held in greater veneration than Orlando's sword in the armory of our lord the king, Heaven save him; so that it is better to be a poor friar of the meanest order than the bravest knight-errant, because four dozen of good penitent lashes are more esteemed in the sight of God than two thousand tilts with a lance, though it be against giants, goblins, or dragons."
"I confess," answered Don Quixote, "all this is true. We cannot all be friars, and many and various are the ways by which God conducts his elect to Heaven. Chivalry is a kind of religious profession, and some knights are now saints in glory."
"True," quoth Sancho, "but I have heard say there are more friars in Heaven than knights-errant."
"It may well be so," replied Don Quixote, "because their number is much greater than that of knights-errant."
"And yet," quoth Sancho, "there are abundance of the errant sort."
"Abundance, indeed," answered Don Quixote, "but few who deserve the name of knight."
There is a time for jesting, and a time when jokes are unseasonable.