Sancho Panza.—If this be so, I renounce from henceforward the government of the promised island; and only desire, in payment of my many and good services, that your Worship will give me the receipt of this extraordinary liquor; for I daresay it will anywhere fetch more than two reals an ounce; and I want no more to pass this life with credit and comfort. But first, I should be glad to know whether the making of it will cost much?
Don Quixote.—For less than three reals thou mayest make nine pints.
Sancho Panza.—Sinner that I am! Why does your Worship delay making and showing it to me?
Don Quixote.—Peace, friend, for I intend to teach thee greater secrets, and to do thee greater kindnesses: but at present, let us set about the cure; for my ear pains me more than I could wish.