He did not so well like those dreadful wounds which Don Belianis gave and received; for he considered that all the art of surgery could never secure his face and body from being strangely disfigured with scars. However, he highly commended the author for concluding his book with a promise to finish that unfinishable adventure; and many times he had a desire to put pen to paper, and faithfully and literally finish it himself; which he had certainly done, and doubtless with good success, had not his thoughts been wholly engrossed in much more important designs. He would often dispute with the curate of the parish, a man of learning, that had taken his degrees at Giguenza, who was the better knight, Palmerin of England or Amadis de Gaul; but Master Nicholas, the barber of the same town, would say, that none of them could compare with the Knight of the Sun; and that if any one came near him, it was certainly Don Galaor, the brother of Amadis de Gaul; for he was a man of a most commodious temper, neither was he so finical nor such a puling, whining lover as his brother; and as for courage, he was not a jot behind him. In fine, he gave himself up so wholly to the reading of romances, that at nights he would pore on until it was day, and by day he would read on until it was night; and thus by sleeping little and reading much, the moisture of his brain was exhausted to that degree that at last he lost the use of his reason. A world of disorderly notions, picked out of his books, crowded into his imagination; and now his head was full of nothing but enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, complaints, amours, torments, and abundance of stuff and impossibilities; insomuch that all the fables and fantastical tales which he read, seemed to him now as true as the most authentic histories. He would say, that the Cid Ruy Diaz was a very brave knight, but not worthy to stand in competition with the Knight of the Burning-sword, who, with a single backstroke, had cut in sunder two fierce and mighty giants. He liked yet better Bernardo del Carpio, who, at Roncesvalles, deprived of life the enchanted Orlando, having lifted him from the ground, and choked him in the air, as Hercules did Antæus, the son of the Earth. As for the giant Morgante, he always spoke very civil things of him; for though he was one of that monstrous brood who ever were intolerably proud and brutish, he still behaved himself like a civil and well-bred person. But of all men in the world he admired Rinaldo of Montalban, and particularly his sallying out of his castle to rob all he met; and then again when abroad he carried away the idol of Mahomet, which was all massy gold, as the history says; but he so hated that traitor Galalon, that for the pleasure of kicking him handsomely, he would have given up his housekeeper; nay, and his niece into the bargain.