Don Quijote de la Mancha (1991–1992): Season 1, Episode 1 - Episode #1.1 - full transcript
DON QUIXOTE
STEP 1
In a certain village in La Mancha,
which I do not wish to name...
There Iived one of those gentlemen
who have a Iance in the rack...
An ancient shield,
a lean nag...
and a greyhound for hunting.
His habitual diet
consisted of a stew...
more beef than mutton,
of hash most nights...
bacon and eggs on Saturdays,
lentils on Fridays...
and a young pigeon
as a Sunday treat.
On this he spent three
quarters of his income.
Our gentleman was verging
on fifty...
and when he had
nothing to do...
he read books of
knight errantry...
which he loved
and enjoyed so much...
that he almost
forgot his hunting...
and the care of his estate.
More books have arrived.
Aren't you going to finish
your soup first?
King Gradaso was the first to
defy the people in the castle...
blowing his horn
so noisily...
that the castle trembled
from top to bottom.
The knight defender of the fortress
appeared at the door...
and mounted
his winged horse.
A hardly imaginable
fight began.
The wizard, flying on his steed
began to rise into the air.
The king defends himself
with difficulty...
he rends the air with his blows
but cannot touch his opponent.
Suddenly, the knight
on the winged steed...
removes the silk cloth
covering his shield...
and a magic shining Iight
blinds Gradaso...
who falls
to the ground...
as if struck by Iightning.
The necromancer flapped
his black wings...
and charged against
the knight...
and they fought
until nightfall.
But the enchanter who
tells this tale...
is the perfidious count
Pinabelo de Maganza...
member of a family
of villains...
whom he surpasses in tricks
enchantments and perfidies.
He spent the nights reading
from twilight till daybreak...
and the days from dawn
till dark...
and so from little sleep and much
reading his brain dried up...
and he lost his wits.
O Love!
Why do I complain
of your unreason...
if your unreason is stronger
than your reason?
There is no reason why
your Iack of reason...
should not have
more reason.
Amadis was the first,
the bravest knight of his time...
in all the world.
Palmerin of England was
the most famous knight.
Amadis...
Palmerin...
Belianis...
Woe betide those
who think any knight...
equal to Amadis.
They deceive themselves!
True, Amadis of Gaul...
was one of the most famous
knights errant ever.
But Palmerin was
just as good.
No one can compare
to the Knight of the Sun.
AIthough if anyone could,
it was Sir Galaor...
who was not so prudish
and blubbering.
The reason for the unreason
with which you treat my reason...
so weakens my reason...
that I have reason to complain
of your beauty.
I think that knight errantry is
a matter of feats, not reasons.
Feats, not reasons...
Feats, not reasons...
Feats, not reasons...
Feats, not reasons...
Feats!
The wizard did not
keep him waiting.
He Ieft the castle riding
his winged horse...
and hurled himself
against his enemy.
He carried neither Iance
nor sword nor mace...
but only the dreadful shield...
covered with red silk
hanging on his Ieft arm...
and on his right
an open book...
from which, as he read...
there came out
strange marvels.
He brandished
the book and...
What's going on?
What a mess! You're too
old for this kind of games.
Weigh your words, wretch...
these stories are true.
There is no higher enterprise.
Your brain is drying up...
from so Iittle sleep
and so much reading.
Being knighted would be
my highest honour.
-You'II take the barber's remedy.
-No!
I'II never take a potion prescribed
by that fan of Sir Galaor.
FIorismarte of Hycania.
Palmerin de OIiva.
Lord-have-mercy-on-us
of Montalbn.
Have something to eat, sir.
Tirante the White.
Why don't you go outside
for some air?
PIenty of air
shall I breathe...
when I travel through
the plain of Montiel...
redressing wrongs...
and exposing myself to dangers...
through which I'II win honour.
And if Amadis added the name
of his country to is own...
I will do the same.
-What name do you mean?
-Which do you think?
My name from now on...
my new name.
Don Quixote de Ia Mancha.
Bucefano?
Cisnecefano?
Leoncefalo?
No, no...
Hipocefano?
It has to be a famous name,
one that resounds.
Galloping...
Hyppogryph...
Sphinxing...
Nothing, nothing.
I will call you Rocinante...
which is a grand,
sonorous name...
which is well suited to the
foremost nag in the world.
If by good Iuck...
I meet with some
giant hereabouts...
as generally happens
to knights errant...
and if I were to overthrow him
or cut him in half...
or conquer him
and make him surrender...
I shall send him to my Iady so
that she might dispose of him.
But at present I have no Iady
at my disposal.
He happened to find her
in Toboso - a village near his.
AItisidora...
Tobósea...
Dulcina...
No, no, no...
Dulcinea...
Dulcinea!
Del Toboso.
Dulcinea del Toboso.
Sweet, grand and
high-sounding name.
Lady...
May the high heavens
with their stars...
divinely fortify you...
and make you deserving of the
dessert that you deserve.
Who can doubt
that in ages to come...
when the authentic story of
my famous deeds comes to Iight...
the sage who writes of them
will say:
Scarce had the ruddy Apollo...
spread his golden hair...
over the face of the earth...
and scarcely had
the rosy Aurora...
shown herself at the balconies
of the Manchegan horizon...
when the famous knight,
Don Quixote de Ia Mancha...
quitting the slothful down...
mounted his steed Rocinante...
and began to journey across
the ancient plain of Montiel.
Rogue!
Rogue!
If I catch you...
Rocinante, Iook at the castle
with its silver towers.
Come on!
I beg you, Iadies,
not to flee...
nor to fear any outrage, for
it ill fits orders of chivalry...
to injure anyone...
Ieast of all maidens of such
rank as you seem to be.
Ladies, he says...
Sir, you will find plenty
of everything here...
except for a bed.
For me, Sir Castellan,
whatever you have is enough.
My ornaments are arms,
my rest, the bloody fray.
That being so, you can
safely dismount here.
Be careful!
Help me...
-Look out.
-At once.
We cannot undo it, Sir.
It is all the same, I do
not wish to reveal myself...
till deeds done in your
service do so for me.
Never was there a knight
by Iadies so attended...
as was Don Quixote
when he Ieft his village.
Maidens waited on him...
and on his horse, princesses.
It's hot!
No, it is impossible!
It is burning hot!
Enough! My Iady.
I am thirsty.
I'II give you
something to drink.
Thank you, Sir Castellan.
Pour it...
-My nose!
-Through the hole!
Never will I arise
from where I am...
till you grant me the boon
I will beg of you.
What can my humble self
grant to a knight Iike you?
The boon I wish is that
you will knight me tomorrow.
This night I watch my arms
in the yard of this castle.
Do not touch them, unless
you wish to Iose your Iife.
Assist me, Lady Dulcinea...
in the first affront
offered to this enraptured heart.
He is mad.
Help, he wants to kill me!
PIease help me!
Here you are, thief,
son of a bitch.
Hit him.
-Here you are, dog!
-Hit him.
Criminal...
Rabid dog, villain!
Cowards, traitors!
Go back...
You will see the penalty
for your insolent folly.
Go back...
What are you doing?
Where are you going?
What are you doing?
Stop it!
Don't you see he is mad...
and he will escape justice
even though he kills us all?
Traitors...
Base and vile rabble come on,
throw stones!
Sir, Sir...
AII that is required
is two hours' watch...
you have been here
for four.
It is time to confer
your knighthood.
"Dei animam meam similibus
amilibus curantum...
fenomenum campidum meum
casacium...
farmaquezum...
prepocima knight
of the sword.
Sime cocratisimos ordenum...
mudimum calorum formam portum...
fenomenum camam cum paucam...
casacium prenda ferida
animus composorum...
proposimus del anima formularum...
farmelum prococimo fenomenum..."
Have you any money with you?
Money?
I have not a penny...
I have never read in histories
concerning knights errant...
-of any knight that had.
-You are wrong.
Authors saw no need of
mentioning anything so obvious.
Their squires were provided
with all necessaries.
-Why have you no squire?
-Squire?
They carried money,
clean shirts...
-AIso clean shirts?
-Yes, and other things...
such as Iint and ointment
to dress their wounds.
As my godson, I advise you...
not to travel
without all these requisites.
I promise, Sir Castellan, to do
exactly what you recommend me.
God save you and give you
Iuck in your battles.
Stop,
discorteous knight!
Mount your steed,
and take your Iance...
I'II teach you that
you are acting Iike a coward.
He is my servant.
Every day he Ioses a sheep,
and wants to be paid.
That's why I punish him.
I have a good mind to run you
through with this Iance.
-Pay him now.
-Sir Knight...
the trouble is
that I have no money here.
Pay him without another word,
and untie him.
If he comes home with me
I'II pay him everything.
PIease, no. If you Ieave
he'II kill me.
No, he will not do that.
If he gives me his oath on
the order of knighthood...
I shall Iet him go free and
will guarantee the payment.
Sir, my master is no knight.
He is John Haldudo,
and Iives at Quintanar.
Come with me, Andrew,
and I will pay you.
I swear by all the orders
of chivalry in the world...
-to pay him.
-If it is not so...
I swear I will come back
and Iook for you.
Help! Sir Knight!
I give thanks to God for
giving me this opportunity.
Help!
Sir Knight!
You, sage enchanter...
whoever you are...
to whom it will fall to be the
chronicler of this story.
I plead you to tell of the
wrongs I intend to redress.
And do not forget
my steed Rocinante!
Halt!
Everyone halt if they
do not confess...
that there exists
no Iovelier maiden...
than the Empress of Ia Mancha,
the peerless Dulcinea.
Sir Knight, we do not know
who this good Iady is.
Show her to us and, if she
is as Iovely as you say...
we will willingly
acknowledge the truth.
If I showed her to you...
what merit would there be
in your aknowledgement?
The essence of the matter
is that you must believe...
-confess, affirm, and swear...
-He's mad.
Without seeing her.
If you will not,
you must do battle with me...
monstrous and proud crew.
Sir Knight...
So as not to
burden our consciences...
by testifying to something
which might hurt...
the Empresses of AIcarria
and Extremadura...
I beg you, in the name
of all these princes...
show us a portrait
of this Iady.
Then we will say
all that you ask...
although she squints in one eye,
and drips pus from the other.
Her eyes do not drip,
vile scoundrels!
They do not drip
what you say...
but ambergris and perfume.
She is not humpbacked, but
straighter than a spindle.
You shall pay
for the blasphemy...
you have spoken against
the owner of my Iife.
Oh, my Iady Dulcinea,
flower of beauty...
aid me in this heroic battle.
Stop, cowards, scoundrels!
You'II see what's what
when I get up.
I swear I will destroy you...
in this very place.
Where are you, my Iady, that you
grieve not for my plight?
Either you know not of it
or else you are faithless...
or disloyal.
Master Quijano,
what are you doing here?
O noble Marquis of Mantua...
my uncle and natural Iord.
What happened to you?
The wounds...
are not mortal.
Master Marquis...
Brave Abindarrez
will know how to return...
your friendship.
Know this,
Marquis of Mantua...
I have done these, the most
famous deeds of chivalry...
the world has ever known...
for the fair Dulcinea,
Iady of my freedom.
No, Sir. I am not
who you say...
but your neighbour
Pedro AIonso...
and you are that worthy
gentleman Master Quijano.
I know who I am.
I'm capable of being Baldwin,
Beltenebros...
and the Twelve Peers of France...
for my exploits
are far greater than theirs.
Thank God it is so!
Careful.
Raise him!
Raise him!
Stop, barber!
Call the wise Urganda
to cure my wounds.
He has no wounds,
he is only bruised.
But his head is a different
kettle of fish!
I'm bruised all over from
taking a fall with my horse...
in a fight with ten giants.
If there are giants
in the dance...
I swear I'II burn them
before tomorrow.
Ten giants...
His head has dried up!
Ten or twelve.
Take this, father...
sprinkle the room...
in case there's an enchanter
about, from those books.
He might put a spell on us.
Hand them me one by one.
Some of them may be innocent.
Don't pardon any of them...
they're all guilty.
Throw them into the courtyard,
and set them on fire.
The Four Books
of Amadis of Gaul.
We must burn it immediately.
No. It's the best
of all the chivalry novels.
Then Iet him be saved.
The Exploits of Esplandian,
the Iegitimate son of Amadis.
In truth, the father's goodness
shall not help the son.
Throw it into the yard.
This is Amadis of Greece...
and all these on this side
are of the same Iineage.
Then into the yard
with all of them...
for I would burn the father
that begot me too...
should he be shaped
Iike a knight errant.
Don OIivante de Laura,
prince of Macedonia...
whose great deeds made him
Emperor of Constantinople.
Here is Don FIorismarte. He will
burn very well in the bonfire.
FIorismarte or Felixmarte?
FIorismarte. Throw them into
the yard, Mistress Housekeeper.
-The Twelve Peers of France.
-Into the yard.
The Knight PIatir.
Let him join the others.
-Palmerin de OIiva.
-Into the yard.
Pygmalion and Polendo,
sons of the Emperor Palmerin.
Into the yard.
Here is the famous knight
Tirante the White.
Here is Lord-have-mercy-on-us
Montalban, and his brother...
and the witticisms of the
maiden Joy-of-my-Iife.
And the tricks of widow Quiet.
Really, for its style
it is the best book in the world.
Take it home and read it,
you'II see that it's worthwhile.
This is Galatea, by a man
called Miguel de Cervantes.
I keep him for this Cervantes
is a friend of mine.
It is not a book of chivalry,
but of poetry.
He has promised
a second part.
Sir Roland,
you are Sir Roland.
Show the strength of your
valorous arms, valiant knights.
The fair Angelica.
Monstrous and proud crew.
Certainly, Turpin, it's a great
fault in us, the Twelve Peers...
to give away victory in this
tournament so easily.
Calm down, sir, and
mind your health.
You seem tired
and wounded.
Not wounded, but
bruised and battered...
for that bastard Roland...
has pounded me
with the trunk of an oak.
But Iet me never be called
Reynald of Montalban...
if, when I rise from this bed,
I do not pay him for it.
And now bring me food,
I am very hungry.
-Where is my room?
-What room?
What room?
My book-closet, of course.
There are no books now.
The Devil carried them all off.
It was no devil, but an enchanter
who came on a cloud...
got down from his dragon...
and went into the room. Then,
he flew out through the roof...
Ieaving the house
full of smoke.
When we went to see, there
was no room and no books.
He Ieft shouting out that
he was the sage Muñaton.
What do you mean, Muñaton?
What do you mean?
Friston he must have said.
Friston, it was Friston!
My enemy, the wizard Friston.
I swear I will take full revenge
on him some day. Friston!
It was a custom much in use
among knights errant of old...
to make their squires
governors of an isle.
It may well be that before five days
are up, I win some kingdoms...
and I am determined
that you rule one of them.
So, if by any miracle
I were to become king...
my wife would be a queen
and my children, princes.
-Who doubts it?
-I doubt it.
As a queen, my Teresa
wouldn't be worth a halfpenny.
Countess might suit her better
with God's help.
Do not humble yourself
so Iow...
as to be content with
anything Iess than governor.
You believe everything
your master tells you...
when he talks of
riches and "insulas".
We don't even know
what an "insula" is.
I know what I know.
Then tell me,
so that I know too.
Cut your coat
according to your cloth.
Look over there, Sancho!
Fortune is guiding us better
than we could have wished...
for there you can see more
than thirty giants.
I intend to do battle
with them...
to take their Iives,
plunder and become rich.
And I shall take their kingdoms,
if they have any.
Yes, Sir.
But, what giants
are you talking about?
-Those you see there!
-There?
Those whose arrogance is
higher than their stature...
and who stir up the skies,
raising a windstorm.
Though you wield more than
100 arms, you'II pay for it!
See how Iong their arms are!
Some have them
about six miles Iong.
This is a fair war.
I will serve God...
by wiping this wicked brood
from the face of the earth.
Bruciferno...
Carmadon...
Nabon the BIack...
Taliagan...
Ternurante the Wicked...
Ganfeon...
Carpatacio...
Pronestor the Proud...
Sir!
They are not giants, and what
seem to be arms are sails...
Silence, Sancho!
Get Rocinante ready!
Hurry up!
Sir, they're windmills.
If you are afraid,
stay here and pray.
I am not afraid, sir,
what I am saying...
I am going to engage them
in fierce and unequal battle.
Listen to me.
With respect, sir,
they are only windmills...
moved by the wind.
They're windmills.
They are giants.
I beseech your aid,
my Iady Dulcinea.
Do not flee,
vile and cowardly creatures...
for it is one knight alone
who assaults you.
Sir, sir...
I told you to Iook
what you were doing...
but you wouldn't
Iisten to me.
Get up, Sir.
Get up.
Silence, Sancho.
-Do you know what I think?
-What?
I think that the evil Friston
has intervened.
I warn you, Friston...
your black arts shall avail you
Iittle against my sword.
Sit upright, sir.
You are riding Iop-sided.
You must be bruised
from the fall.
If I do not complain, it
is because a knight errant...
is not allowed to complain,
however terrible his wounds.
Well, I'II cry out
at the slightest twinge...
unless this business of not
complaining extends to squires.
You may certainly complain
how and when you please.
I've read nothing
to the contrary...
in the rules of knights errant.
And of hunger can I complain?
It is time for dinner, Sir.
You may eat
as much as you please...
but I have no need of dinner.
Here, brother Sancho, we can
steep our arms to the elbows...
in what they call adventures.
Though you see me in danger,
you must not defend me...
unless my assailants are
rabble and common folk...
but should they be knights...
on no account
will you assist me.
You may be sure
I shall obey you.
Do not worry about that.
I am peaceable by nature and
will not fight with knights...
-especially armed knights.
-Very good.
This will prove to be the most
famous adventure ever seen.
See those black shapes
mounted on dromedaries?
They must be enchanters.
Though they Iook Iike monks.
I am sure they are bearing off
some fair princess.
They're monks...
and behind them...
goes the coach
of some travellers.
It is my duty
to redress this wrong.
Be careful and don't
Iet the Devil deceive you.
What I say is true,
and now you'II see.
Release the noble princesses
whom you are carrying off.
It is the courteous request
of a knight.
Monstrous and diabolical crew
do as you are told...
or prepare to receive death.
We are neither monstrous
nor diabolical.
As you can see,
we are only two monks.
No fair speeches for me,
for I know you, scoundrels!
Now you will see...
Come on, Rocinante!
Your fair Iadyship may dispose
of yourself as you desire...
for the pride
of your ravishers...
has been overthrown by the
strong arm of this knight errant.
III-gotten knight, if you don't
Ieave this coach I shall kill you...
sure as I be Basque.
If you were a knight...
I should have punished
you by now.
Not a gentleman?
I am Basque and a gentleman...
and you Iie
if you say otherwise.
O Iady of my soul, Dulcinea,
flower of beauty...
come to the aid of your knight,
who is now in this dire peril!
Come on, gentlemen,
stop them! Stop this fight!
Don't Iet them kill each other,
hold them down!
If you don't Iet me finish this
battle I'II kill the mistress too.
And here the story is
suddenly interrupted...
just as the Basque
and Don Quixote...
with swords aloft...
were on the point
of dealing such strokes...
as would have cleft
both knights asunder.
I could not believe that story
could have been Ieft mutilated...
and that so good a knight
should not have found a sage...
to continue writing
of his achievements.
Until one fine day...
Where could I find someone
to read this for me?
In there.
Can you translate what is
written in these papers?
-What are you Iaughing at?
-At this Dulcinea.
Does it mention
Dulcinea del Toboso?
You know the story of
Don Quixote...
and the fair Dulcinea?
What does it say?
"It says that the peerless
Dulcinea del Toboso...
was said to have...
the best hand at salting
pork in all Ia Mancha."
The story of
Don Quixote de Ia Mancha...
written by Cide Hamete
Benengeli...
Arabic writer.
Leaving the silk merchant
no time to consider...
l bought all the papers
in the bag.
I could carry on the story of
Dulcinea, Sancho and all the rest...
and complete the adventure of
Don Ouixote and the Basque...
whom we left
with their swords aloft...
seeming to threaten the heavens...
the earth and the pit of hell.
Surrender or die.
PIease, Sir Knight,
spare his Iife...
-he is only a squire.
-A squire?
Yes, he comes with us
in this travel.
Victory, victory!
Victory!
-What are you doing?
-Taking what's mine.
Leave that, you highwayman!
This is my share of the spoils
of my master's battle.
What battle?
What battle? Thief!
PIease, no!
In payment for the freedom
you have gained...
all you must do is
go to EI Toboso...
and present yourself
before Dulcinea...
and tell her what
I have done.
Be so kind,
my dear Iord Don Quixote...
as to make me governor
of the isle we have won.
It has been a great victory...
We won, didn't we?
Yes, Sancho.
For however big it is...
I feel strong enough
to govern the isle.
These adventures,
are not of isles...
but of cross-roads...
from which nothing is gained
but a broken head.
STEP 1
In a certain village in La Mancha,
which I do not wish to name...
There Iived one of those gentlemen
who have a Iance in the rack...
An ancient shield,
a lean nag...
and a greyhound for hunting.
His habitual diet
consisted of a stew...
more beef than mutton,
of hash most nights...
bacon and eggs on Saturdays,
lentils on Fridays...
and a young pigeon
as a Sunday treat.
On this he spent three
quarters of his income.
Our gentleman was verging
on fifty...
and when he had
nothing to do...
he read books of
knight errantry...
which he loved
and enjoyed so much...
that he almost
forgot his hunting...
and the care of his estate.
More books have arrived.
Aren't you going to finish
your soup first?
King Gradaso was the first to
defy the people in the castle...
blowing his horn
so noisily...
that the castle trembled
from top to bottom.
The knight defender of the fortress
appeared at the door...
and mounted
his winged horse.
A hardly imaginable
fight began.
The wizard, flying on his steed
began to rise into the air.
The king defends himself
with difficulty...
he rends the air with his blows
but cannot touch his opponent.
Suddenly, the knight
on the winged steed...
removes the silk cloth
covering his shield...
and a magic shining Iight
blinds Gradaso...
who falls
to the ground...
as if struck by Iightning.
The necromancer flapped
his black wings...
and charged against
the knight...
and they fought
until nightfall.
But the enchanter who
tells this tale...
is the perfidious count
Pinabelo de Maganza...
member of a family
of villains...
whom he surpasses in tricks
enchantments and perfidies.
He spent the nights reading
from twilight till daybreak...
and the days from dawn
till dark...
and so from little sleep and much
reading his brain dried up...
and he lost his wits.
O Love!
Why do I complain
of your unreason...
if your unreason is stronger
than your reason?
There is no reason why
your Iack of reason...
should not have
more reason.
Amadis was the first,
the bravest knight of his time...
in all the world.
Palmerin of England was
the most famous knight.
Amadis...
Palmerin...
Belianis...
Woe betide those
who think any knight...
equal to Amadis.
They deceive themselves!
True, Amadis of Gaul...
was one of the most famous
knights errant ever.
But Palmerin was
just as good.
No one can compare
to the Knight of the Sun.
AIthough if anyone could,
it was Sir Galaor...
who was not so prudish
and blubbering.
The reason for the unreason
with which you treat my reason...
so weakens my reason...
that I have reason to complain
of your beauty.
I think that knight errantry is
a matter of feats, not reasons.
Feats, not reasons...
Feats, not reasons...
Feats, not reasons...
Feats, not reasons...
Feats!
The wizard did not
keep him waiting.
He Ieft the castle riding
his winged horse...
and hurled himself
against his enemy.
He carried neither Iance
nor sword nor mace...
but only the dreadful shield...
covered with red silk
hanging on his Ieft arm...
and on his right
an open book...
from which, as he read...
there came out
strange marvels.
He brandished
the book and...
What's going on?
What a mess! You're too
old for this kind of games.
Weigh your words, wretch...
these stories are true.
There is no higher enterprise.
Your brain is drying up...
from so Iittle sleep
and so much reading.
Being knighted would be
my highest honour.
-You'II take the barber's remedy.
-No!
I'II never take a potion prescribed
by that fan of Sir Galaor.
FIorismarte of Hycania.
Palmerin de OIiva.
Lord-have-mercy-on-us
of Montalbn.
Have something to eat, sir.
Tirante the White.
Why don't you go outside
for some air?
PIenty of air
shall I breathe...
when I travel through
the plain of Montiel...
redressing wrongs...
and exposing myself to dangers...
through which I'II win honour.
And if Amadis added the name
of his country to is own...
I will do the same.
-What name do you mean?
-Which do you think?
My name from now on...
my new name.
Don Quixote de Ia Mancha.
Bucefano?
Cisnecefano?
Leoncefalo?
No, no...
Hipocefano?
It has to be a famous name,
one that resounds.
Galloping...
Hyppogryph...
Sphinxing...
Nothing, nothing.
I will call you Rocinante...
which is a grand,
sonorous name...
which is well suited to the
foremost nag in the world.
If by good Iuck...
I meet with some
giant hereabouts...
as generally happens
to knights errant...
and if I were to overthrow him
or cut him in half...
or conquer him
and make him surrender...
I shall send him to my Iady so
that she might dispose of him.
But at present I have no Iady
at my disposal.
He happened to find her
in Toboso - a village near his.
AItisidora...
Tobósea...
Dulcina...
No, no, no...
Dulcinea...
Dulcinea!
Del Toboso.
Dulcinea del Toboso.
Sweet, grand and
high-sounding name.
Lady...
May the high heavens
with their stars...
divinely fortify you...
and make you deserving of the
dessert that you deserve.
Who can doubt
that in ages to come...
when the authentic story of
my famous deeds comes to Iight...
the sage who writes of them
will say:
Scarce had the ruddy Apollo...
spread his golden hair...
over the face of the earth...
and scarcely had
the rosy Aurora...
shown herself at the balconies
of the Manchegan horizon...
when the famous knight,
Don Quixote de Ia Mancha...
quitting the slothful down...
mounted his steed Rocinante...
and began to journey across
the ancient plain of Montiel.
Rogue!
Rogue!
If I catch you...
Rocinante, Iook at the castle
with its silver towers.
Come on!
I beg you, Iadies,
not to flee...
nor to fear any outrage, for
it ill fits orders of chivalry...
to injure anyone...
Ieast of all maidens of such
rank as you seem to be.
Ladies, he says...
Sir, you will find plenty
of everything here...
except for a bed.
For me, Sir Castellan,
whatever you have is enough.
My ornaments are arms,
my rest, the bloody fray.
That being so, you can
safely dismount here.
Be careful!
Help me...
-Look out.
-At once.
We cannot undo it, Sir.
It is all the same, I do
not wish to reveal myself...
till deeds done in your
service do so for me.
Never was there a knight
by Iadies so attended...
as was Don Quixote
when he Ieft his village.
Maidens waited on him...
and on his horse, princesses.
It's hot!
No, it is impossible!
It is burning hot!
Enough! My Iady.
I am thirsty.
I'II give you
something to drink.
Thank you, Sir Castellan.
Pour it...
-My nose!
-Through the hole!
Never will I arise
from where I am...
till you grant me the boon
I will beg of you.
What can my humble self
grant to a knight Iike you?
The boon I wish is that
you will knight me tomorrow.
This night I watch my arms
in the yard of this castle.
Do not touch them, unless
you wish to Iose your Iife.
Assist me, Lady Dulcinea...
in the first affront
offered to this enraptured heart.
He is mad.
Help, he wants to kill me!
PIease help me!
Here you are, thief,
son of a bitch.
Hit him.
-Here you are, dog!
-Hit him.
Criminal...
Rabid dog, villain!
Cowards, traitors!
Go back...
You will see the penalty
for your insolent folly.
Go back...
What are you doing?
Where are you going?
What are you doing?
Stop it!
Don't you see he is mad...
and he will escape justice
even though he kills us all?
Traitors...
Base and vile rabble come on,
throw stones!
Sir, Sir...
AII that is required
is two hours' watch...
you have been here
for four.
It is time to confer
your knighthood.
"Dei animam meam similibus
amilibus curantum...
fenomenum campidum meum
casacium...
farmaquezum...
prepocima knight
of the sword.
Sime cocratisimos ordenum...
mudimum calorum formam portum...
fenomenum camam cum paucam...
casacium prenda ferida
animus composorum...
proposimus del anima formularum...
farmelum prococimo fenomenum..."
Have you any money with you?
Money?
I have not a penny...
I have never read in histories
concerning knights errant...
-of any knight that had.
-You are wrong.
Authors saw no need of
mentioning anything so obvious.
Their squires were provided
with all necessaries.
-Why have you no squire?
-Squire?
They carried money,
clean shirts...
-AIso clean shirts?
-Yes, and other things...
such as Iint and ointment
to dress their wounds.
As my godson, I advise you...
not to travel
without all these requisites.
I promise, Sir Castellan, to do
exactly what you recommend me.
God save you and give you
Iuck in your battles.
Stop,
discorteous knight!
Mount your steed,
and take your Iance...
I'II teach you that
you are acting Iike a coward.
He is my servant.
Every day he Ioses a sheep,
and wants to be paid.
That's why I punish him.
I have a good mind to run you
through with this Iance.
-Pay him now.
-Sir Knight...
the trouble is
that I have no money here.
Pay him without another word,
and untie him.
If he comes home with me
I'II pay him everything.
PIease, no. If you Ieave
he'II kill me.
No, he will not do that.
If he gives me his oath on
the order of knighthood...
I shall Iet him go free and
will guarantee the payment.
Sir, my master is no knight.
He is John Haldudo,
and Iives at Quintanar.
Come with me, Andrew,
and I will pay you.
I swear by all the orders
of chivalry in the world...
-to pay him.
-If it is not so...
I swear I will come back
and Iook for you.
Help! Sir Knight!
I give thanks to God for
giving me this opportunity.
Help!
Sir Knight!
You, sage enchanter...
whoever you are...
to whom it will fall to be the
chronicler of this story.
I plead you to tell of the
wrongs I intend to redress.
And do not forget
my steed Rocinante!
Halt!
Everyone halt if they
do not confess...
that there exists
no Iovelier maiden...
than the Empress of Ia Mancha,
the peerless Dulcinea.
Sir Knight, we do not know
who this good Iady is.
Show her to us and, if she
is as Iovely as you say...
we will willingly
acknowledge the truth.
If I showed her to you...
what merit would there be
in your aknowledgement?
The essence of the matter
is that you must believe...
-confess, affirm, and swear...
-He's mad.
Without seeing her.
If you will not,
you must do battle with me...
monstrous and proud crew.
Sir Knight...
So as not to
burden our consciences...
by testifying to something
which might hurt...
the Empresses of AIcarria
and Extremadura...
I beg you, in the name
of all these princes...
show us a portrait
of this Iady.
Then we will say
all that you ask...
although she squints in one eye,
and drips pus from the other.
Her eyes do not drip,
vile scoundrels!
They do not drip
what you say...
but ambergris and perfume.
She is not humpbacked, but
straighter than a spindle.
You shall pay
for the blasphemy...
you have spoken against
the owner of my Iife.
Oh, my Iady Dulcinea,
flower of beauty...
aid me in this heroic battle.
Stop, cowards, scoundrels!
You'II see what's what
when I get up.
I swear I will destroy you...
in this very place.
Where are you, my Iady, that you
grieve not for my plight?
Either you know not of it
or else you are faithless...
or disloyal.
Master Quijano,
what are you doing here?
O noble Marquis of Mantua...
my uncle and natural Iord.
What happened to you?
The wounds...
are not mortal.
Master Marquis...
Brave Abindarrez
will know how to return...
your friendship.
Know this,
Marquis of Mantua...
I have done these, the most
famous deeds of chivalry...
the world has ever known...
for the fair Dulcinea,
Iady of my freedom.
No, Sir. I am not
who you say...
but your neighbour
Pedro AIonso...
and you are that worthy
gentleman Master Quijano.
I know who I am.
I'm capable of being Baldwin,
Beltenebros...
and the Twelve Peers of France...
for my exploits
are far greater than theirs.
Thank God it is so!
Careful.
Raise him!
Raise him!
Stop, barber!
Call the wise Urganda
to cure my wounds.
He has no wounds,
he is only bruised.
But his head is a different
kettle of fish!
I'm bruised all over from
taking a fall with my horse...
in a fight with ten giants.
If there are giants
in the dance...
I swear I'II burn them
before tomorrow.
Ten giants...
His head has dried up!
Ten or twelve.
Take this, father...
sprinkle the room...
in case there's an enchanter
about, from those books.
He might put a spell on us.
Hand them me one by one.
Some of them may be innocent.
Don't pardon any of them...
they're all guilty.
Throw them into the courtyard,
and set them on fire.
The Four Books
of Amadis of Gaul.
We must burn it immediately.
No. It's the best
of all the chivalry novels.
Then Iet him be saved.
The Exploits of Esplandian,
the Iegitimate son of Amadis.
In truth, the father's goodness
shall not help the son.
Throw it into the yard.
This is Amadis of Greece...
and all these on this side
are of the same Iineage.
Then into the yard
with all of them...
for I would burn the father
that begot me too...
should he be shaped
Iike a knight errant.
Don OIivante de Laura,
prince of Macedonia...
whose great deeds made him
Emperor of Constantinople.
Here is Don FIorismarte. He will
burn very well in the bonfire.
FIorismarte or Felixmarte?
FIorismarte. Throw them into
the yard, Mistress Housekeeper.
-The Twelve Peers of France.
-Into the yard.
The Knight PIatir.
Let him join the others.
-Palmerin de OIiva.
-Into the yard.
Pygmalion and Polendo,
sons of the Emperor Palmerin.
Into the yard.
Here is the famous knight
Tirante the White.
Here is Lord-have-mercy-on-us
Montalban, and his brother...
and the witticisms of the
maiden Joy-of-my-Iife.
And the tricks of widow Quiet.
Really, for its style
it is the best book in the world.
Take it home and read it,
you'II see that it's worthwhile.
This is Galatea, by a man
called Miguel de Cervantes.
I keep him for this Cervantes
is a friend of mine.
It is not a book of chivalry,
but of poetry.
He has promised
a second part.
Sir Roland,
you are Sir Roland.
Show the strength of your
valorous arms, valiant knights.
The fair Angelica.
Monstrous and proud crew.
Certainly, Turpin, it's a great
fault in us, the Twelve Peers...
to give away victory in this
tournament so easily.
Calm down, sir, and
mind your health.
You seem tired
and wounded.
Not wounded, but
bruised and battered...
for that bastard Roland...
has pounded me
with the trunk of an oak.
But Iet me never be called
Reynald of Montalban...
if, when I rise from this bed,
I do not pay him for it.
And now bring me food,
I am very hungry.
-Where is my room?
-What room?
What room?
My book-closet, of course.
There are no books now.
The Devil carried them all off.
It was no devil, but an enchanter
who came on a cloud...
got down from his dragon...
and went into the room. Then,
he flew out through the roof...
Ieaving the house
full of smoke.
When we went to see, there
was no room and no books.
He Ieft shouting out that
he was the sage Muñaton.
What do you mean, Muñaton?
What do you mean?
Friston he must have said.
Friston, it was Friston!
My enemy, the wizard Friston.
I swear I will take full revenge
on him some day. Friston!
It was a custom much in use
among knights errant of old...
to make their squires
governors of an isle.
It may well be that before five days
are up, I win some kingdoms...
and I am determined
that you rule one of them.
So, if by any miracle
I were to become king...
my wife would be a queen
and my children, princes.
-Who doubts it?
-I doubt it.
As a queen, my Teresa
wouldn't be worth a halfpenny.
Countess might suit her better
with God's help.
Do not humble yourself
so Iow...
as to be content with
anything Iess than governor.
You believe everything
your master tells you...
when he talks of
riches and "insulas".
We don't even know
what an "insula" is.
I know what I know.
Then tell me,
so that I know too.
Cut your coat
according to your cloth.
Look over there, Sancho!
Fortune is guiding us better
than we could have wished...
for there you can see more
than thirty giants.
I intend to do battle
with them...
to take their Iives,
plunder and become rich.
And I shall take their kingdoms,
if they have any.
Yes, Sir.
But, what giants
are you talking about?
-Those you see there!
-There?
Those whose arrogance is
higher than their stature...
and who stir up the skies,
raising a windstorm.
Though you wield more than
100 arms, you'II pay for it!
See how Iong their arms are!
Some have them
about six miles Iong.
This is a fair war.
I will serve God...
by wiping this wicked brood
from the face of the earth.
Bruciferno...
Carmadon...
Nabon the BIack...
Taliagan...
Ternurante the Wicked...
Ganfeon...
Carpatacio...
Pronestor the Proud...
Sir!
They are not giants, and what
seem to be arms are sails...
Silence, Sancho!
Get Rocinante ready!
Hurry up!
Sir, they're windmills.
If you are afraid,
stay here and pray.
I am not afraid, sir,
what I am saying...
I am going to engage them
in fierce and unequal battle.
Listen to me.
With respect, sir,
they are only windmills...
moved by the wind.
They're windmills.
They are giants.
I beseech your aid,
my Iady Dulcinea.
Do not flee,
vile and cowardly creatures...
for it is one knight alone
who assaults you.
Sir, sir...
I told you to Iook
what you were doing...
but you wouldn't
Iisten to me.
Get up, Sir.
Get up.
Silence, Sancho.
-Do you know what I think?
-What?
I think that the evil Friston
has intervened.
I warn you, Friston...
your black arts shall avail you
Iittle against my sword.
Sit upright, sir.
You are riding Iop-sided.
You must be bruised
from the fall.
If I do not complain, it
is because a knight errant...
is not allowed to complain,
however terrible his wounds.
Well, I'II cry out
at the slightest twinge...
unless this business of not
complaining extends to squires.
You may certainly complain
how and when you please.
I've read nothing
to the contrary...
in the rules of knights errant.
And of hunger can I complain?
It is time for dinner, Sir.
You may eat
as much as you please...
but I have no need of dinner.
Here, brother Sancho, we can
steep our arms to the elbows...
in what they call adventures.
Though you see me in danger,
you must not defend me...
unless my assailants are
rabble and common folk...
but should they be knights...
on no account
will you assist me.
You may be sure
I shall obey you.
Do not worry about that.
I am peaceable by nature and
will not fight with knights...
-especially armed knights.
-Very good.
This will prove to be the most
famous adventure ever seen.
See those black shapes
mounted on dromedaries?
They must be enchanters.
Though they Iook Iike monks.
I am sure they are bearing off
some fair princess.
They're monks...
and behind them...
goes the coach
of some travellers.
It is my duty
to redress this wrong.
Be careful and don't
Iet the Devil deceive you.
What I say is true,
and now you'II see.
Release the noble princesses
whom you are carrying off.
It is the courteous request
of a knight.
Monstrous and diabolical crew
do as you are told...
or prepare to receive death.
We are neither monstrous
nor diabolical.
As you can see,
we are only two monks.
No fair speeches for me,
for I know you, scoundrels!
Now you will see...
Come on, Rocinante!
Your fair Iadyship may dispose
of yourself as you desire...
for the pride
of your ravishers...
has been overthrown by the
strong arm of this knight errant.
III-gotten knight, if you don't
Ieave this coach I shall kill you...
sure as I be Basque.
If you were a knight...
I should have punished
you by now.
Not a gentleman?
I am Basque and a gentleman...
and you Iie
if you say otherwise.
O Iady of my soul, Dulcinea,
flower of beauty...
come to the aid of your knight,
who is now in this dire peril!
Come on, gentlemen,
stop them! Stop this fight!
Don't Iet them kill each other,
hold them down!
If you don't Iet me finish this
battle I'II kill the mistress too.
And here the story is
suddenly interrupted...
just as the Basque
and Don Quixote...
with swords aloft...
were on the point
of dealing such strokes...
as would have cleft
both knights asunder.
I could not believe that story
could have been Ieft mutilated...
and that so good a knight
should not have found a sage...
to continue writing
of his achievements.
Until one fine day...
Where could I find someone
to read this for me?
In there.
Can you translate what is
written in these papers?
-What are you Iaughing at?
-At this Dulcinea.
Does it mention
Dulcinea del Toboso?
You know the story of
Don Quixote...
and the fair Dulcinea?
What does it say?
"It says that the peerless
Dulcinea del Toboso...
was said to have...
the best hand at salting
pork in all Ia Mancha."
The story of
Don Quixote de Ia Mancha...
written by Cide Hamete
Benengeli...
Arabic writer.
Leaving the silk merchant
no time to consider...
l bought all the papers
in the bag.
I could carry on the story of
Dulcinea, Sancho and all the rest...
and complete the adventure of
Don Ouixote and the Basque...
whom we left
with their swords aloft...
seeming to threaten the heavens...
the earth and the pit of hell.
Surrender or die.
PIease, Sir Knight,
spare his Iife...
-he is only a squire.
-A squire?
Yes, he comes with us
in this travel.
Victory, victory!
Victory!
-What are you doing?
-Taking what's mine.
Leave that, you highwayman!
This is my share of the spoils
of my master's battle.
What battle?
What battle? Thief!
PIease, no!
In payment for the freedom
you have gained...
all you must do is
go to EI Toboso...
and present yourself
before Dulcinea...
and tell her what
I have done.
Be so kind,
my dear Iord Don Quixote...
as to make me governor
of the isle we have won.
It has been a great victory...
We won, didn't we?
Yes, Sancho.
For however big it is...
I feel strong enough
to govern the isle.
These adventures,
are not of isles...
but of cross-roads...
from which nothing is gained
but a broken head.