That is the usual method, but not mine-- My way is to begin with the beginning; The regularity of my design Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning, And therefore I shall open with a line (Although it cost me half an hour in spinning), Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, And also of his mother, if you'd rather. VIII. In Seville was he born, a pleasant city, Famous for oranges and women,--he Who has not seen it will be much to pity, So says the proverb[24]--and I quite agree; Of all the Spanish towns is none more pretty, Cadiz perhaps--but that you soon may see;-- Don Juan's parents lived beside the river, A noble stream, and called the Guadalquivir. IX. His father's name was José-_Don_, of course,-- A true Hidalgo, free from every stain Of Moor or Hebrew blood, he traced his source Through the most Gothic gentlemen of Spain; A better cavalier ne'er mounted horse, Or, being mounted, e'er got down again, Than José, who begot our hero, who Begot--but that's to come----Well, to renew: X.[25] His mother was a learnéd lady, famed For every branch of every science known-- In every Christian language ever named, With virtues equalled by her wit alone: She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, And even the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded, In their own way, by all the things that she did. XI. Her memory was a mine: she knew by heart All Calderon and greater part of Lopé; So, that if any actor missed his part, She could have served him for the prompter's copy; For her Feinagle's were an useless art,[26] And he himself obliged to shut up shop--he Could never make a memory so fine as That which adorned the brain of Donna Inez. XII. Her favourite science was the mathematical, Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity, Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all, Her serious sayings darkened to sublimity;[a] In short, in all things she was fairly what I call A prodigy--her morning dress was dimity, Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling. XIII. She knew the Latin--that is, "the Lord's prayer," And Greek--the alphabet--I'm nearly sure; She read some French romances here and there, Although her mode of speaking was not pure; For native Spanish she had no great care, At least her conversation was obscure; Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem, As if she deemed that mystery would ennoble 'em. XIV.