Chapter_12

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I am that Rocinante fa⁠—,

Great-grandson of great Babie⁠—,

Who, all for being lean and bon⁠—,

Had one Don Quixote for an own⁠—;

But if I matched him well in weak⁠—,

I never took short commons meek⁠—,

But kept myself in corn by steal⁠—,

A trick I learned from Lazaril⁠—,

When with a piece of straw so neat⁠—

The blind man of his wine he cheat⁠—.