He awoke at last, drowsy and lazy, and casting his eyes about in every direction, observed, "There comes, if I don't mistake, from the quarter of that arcade a steam and a smell a great deal more like fried rashers than galingale or thyme; a wedding that begins with smells like that, by my faith, ought to be plentiful and unstinting." "Have done, thou glutton," said Don Quixote; "come, let us go and witness this bridal, and see what the rejected Basilio does." "Let him do what he likes," returned Sancho; "be he not poor, he would marry Quiteria.

To make a grand match for himself, and he without a farthing; is there nothing else?
Faith, senor, it's my opinion the poor man should be content with what he can get, and not go looking for dainties in the bottom of the sea.

I will bet my arm that Camacho could bury Basilio in reals; and if that be so, as no doubt it is, what a fool Quiteria would be to refuse the fine dresses and jewels Camacho must have given her and will give her, and take Basilio's bar-throwing and sword-play.

They won't give a pint of wine at the tavern for a good cast of the bar or a neat thrust of the sword.

Talents and accomplishments that can't be turned into money, let Count Dirlos have them; but when such gifts fall to one that has hard cash, I wish my condition of life was as becoming as they are.