"A fine calculation you are making!" said Don Quixote; "it is plain you
don't know the ins and outs of the printers, and how they play into one
another's hands. I promise you when you find yourself saddled with two
thousand copies you will feel so sore that it will astonish you,
particularly if the book is a little out of the common and not in any way
highly spiced."

"What!" said the author, "would your worship, then, have me give it to a
bookseller who will give three maravedis for the copyright and think he
is doing me a favour? I do not print my books to win fame in the world,
for I am known in it already by my works; I want to make money, without
which reputation is not worth a rap."

"God send your worship good luck," said Don Quixote; and he moved on to
another case, where he saw them correcting a sheet of a book with the
title of "Light of the Soul;" noticing it he observed, "Books like this,
though there are many of the kind, are the ones that deserve to be
printed, for many are the sinners in these days, and lights unnumbered
are needed for all that are in darkness."

He passed on, and saw they were also correcting another book, and when he
asked its title they told him it was called, "The Second Part of the
Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha," by one of Tordesillas.

"I have heard of this book already," said Don Quixote, "and verily and on
my conscience I thought it had been by this time burned to ashes as a
meddlesome intruder; but its Martinmas will come to it as it does to
every pig; for fictions have the more merit and charm about them the more
nearly they approach the truth or what looks like it; and true stories,
the truer they are the better they are;" and so saying he walked out of