Parte,  Chap.

1   I,   Commend| Rocinante, you're so lean?"~ R. "I'm underfed, with overwork
2   I,   Commend|      all the hay and corn?"~ R. "My master gives me none;
3   I,   Commend|      master thus to scorn."~ R. He is an ass, will die
4   I,   Commend|     To be in love is folly?"-R. "No great sense."~ B. "
5   I,   Commend|        You're metaphysical."-R. "From want of food."~ B. "
6   I,   Commend|   Rail at the squire, then."-R. "Why, what's the good?~