To further Hillary_step's comparison between the Celebrated Scholars and their trailing squire:
From Chapter 20 of Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes:
Don Quixote, Sancho Panza, and the Ghosts
About this time, whether it was owing to the coolness of the morning that approached, or to his having supped upon something that was laxative; or, which is more probable, to the operation of nature --- Sancho was seized with an inclination and desire of doing that which could not be performed by proxy. But such was the terror that had taken possession of his soul that he durst not move the breadth of a nail-paring from his master's side. At the same time, it was as impossible for him to resist the motion of his bowels. And, therefore, to compromise the matter, he flipp'd his right hand from the hinder part of the saddle, and without any noise, softly undid the slip knot by which his breeches were kept up, upon which they of themselves fell down to his heels, where they remained like a pair of shackles. He then gathered up his shirt behind as well as he could, and exposed his posteriors --- which were none of the smallest --- to the open air.
This being done, and he imagined it was the chief step he could take to deliver himself from the pressing occasion and dilemma in which he was --- another difficulty, still greater, occurred; namely, that he should not be able to disencumber himself without noise. He therefore began to fix his teeth close, shrug up his shoulders, and hold in his breath with all his might. But --- notwithstanding these precautions --- he was so unlucky in the issue as to produce a rumbling sound very different from that which had terrified him so much. It did not escape the ears of Don Quixote who immediately cried, "What noise is that, Sancho?"
"I know not, sir," said the squire. "It must be some new affair, for adventures and misventures never begin with trifles." He tried his fortune a second time, and, without any more noise or disorder, freed himself from the load which had given him so much uneasiness. But, as Don Quixote's sense of smell was altogether as acute as that of his hearing, and Sancho stood so close to him, the vapours ascended towards him, almost in a direct line, and he could not exclude some of them from paying a visit to his nose.
No sooner was he sensible of the first salutation, than in his own defense he pressed his nose between his finger and thumb, and, in a snuffling tone, pronounced, "Sancho, thou seemest to be in great fear."
"I am so," answered the squire, "but, how comes your worship to perceive my fears now, more than ever?"
"Because, at present, thou smellest more than ever --- and that not of amber," replied the knight.
"That may be," said Sancho, "but I am not so much to blame as your worship, who drags me at such unseasonable hours into these uninhabited places."
"Retire three or four steps farther off, friend," resumed Don Quixote, stopping his nose all the time, "and henceforth take more heed of thy own person, and remember what thou owest to mine. For I find the frequent conversation I maintain with thee hath engendered this disrespect."
"I'll lay a wager," replied Sancho, "that your worship thinks I have been doing something I ought not to have done."
"The more you stir it, friend Sancho," said the knight, "the more it will stink."
