My beloved daughter, very dear little dove, you have already heard and attended to the words which your father has told you. They are precious words, and such as are rarely spoken or listened to, and which have proceeded from the bowels and heart, in which they were treasured up; and your beloved father well knows that you are his daughter, begotten of him, are his blood, and his flesh; and God our Lord knows that it is so. Although you are a woman, and are the image of your father, what more can I say to you than has already been said? What more can you hear than what you have heard from your lord and father, who has fully told you what it is becoming for you to do and to avoid. . . .

Nevertheless, that I may do towards you my whole duty, I will say to you some few words—The first thing that I earnestly charge upon you is, that you observe and do not forget what your father has now told you, since it is all very precious. . . . If God gives you life, with these same words will you teach your sons and daughters, if God shall give you them. The second thing that I desire to say to you is, that I love you much, that you are my dear daughter. Remember that nine months I bore you in my womb, that you were born and brought up in my arms. I placed you in your cradle, and in my lap, and with my milk I nursed you. . . .

Take care that your garments are such as are decent and proper; and observe that you do not adorn yourself with much finery, since this is a mark of vanity and of folly. As little becoming is it, that your dress shall be very mean, dirty, or ragged; since rags are a mark of the low, and of those who are held in contempt. Let your clothes be becoming and neat, that you may neither appear fantastic nor mean. When you speak, do not hurry your words from uneasiness, but speak deliberately and calmly. Do not raise your voice very high, nor speak very low, but in a moderate tone. Neither mince, when you speak, nor when you salute, nor speak through your nose; but let your words be proper, of a good sound, and your voice gentle. Do not be nice in the choice of your words. In walking, my daughter, see that you behave becomingly, neither going with haste, nor too slowly; since it is an evidence of being puffed up, to walk too slowly, and walking hastily causes a vicious habit of restlessness and instability. Therefore neither walk very fast, nor very slow; yet when it shall be necessary to go with haste, do so,—in this use your discretion. And when you may be obliged to jump over a pool of water, do it with decency, that you may neither appear clumsy nor light. When you are in the street, do not carry your head much inclined, or your body bent; nor as little go with your head very much raised; since it is a mark of ill breeding; walk erect, and with your head slightly inclined. Do not have your mouth covered, or your face, from shame, nor go looking like a near-sighted person, nor, on your way, make fantastic movements with your feet. Walk through the street quietly, and with propriety. Another thing that you must attend to, my daughter, is, that, when you are in the street, you do not go looking hither and thither, nor turning your head to look at this and that; walk neither looking at the skies, nor on the ground. . .

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O my son, O my youth, O boy, O servitor, listen, for our lord hath placed you here. And now, to you who are my son, who are my child, who are my precious necklace, who are my precious feather, who are my oldest, my second, my youngest son. I speak, I call out a word or two. Verily, now I form, I say, I reflect upon the word or two which I shall give thee of my motherhood, my fatherhood. I shall perform my obligation, lest tomorrow, the next day, our lord, . . . will have hidden us. Certainly no one enjoys the hard, the heavy. Certainly our living on earth is not assured. . .

Here is what thou art to do, what thou art to realize, that which. . . the old men, the old women…our forefathers, left as they departed. For they came to live on earth; for they came to live with others. And they came to occupy position and authority among the people. . . .

Behold still a word to finish my talk. Perhaps I shall deceive if I have hidden a word left by our forefathers as they departed, in order that you may dwell with others on earth, in order that you may be prudent in all things, in everything.

First: you are to be one who rises from sleep, one who holds vigil through the night. You are not to give yourself excessively to sleep, lest it will be said of you, lest you will be called a heavy sleeper, one who goes falling asleep, a constant sleeper, a dreamer. . . .

And second, you are to be prudent in your travels; peacefully, quietly, tranquilly, deliberately you are to go, to take the road, to travel. Do not throw your feet much, nor raise your feet high, nor go jumping, lest it be said of you, lest you be named fool, shameless. Neither are you to travel very slowly, nor to drag your feet, lest it be said of you that you are a dragger, you are a lout. . .

Also you are not to hang your head, not to incline your head much, not to stand up off balance, not to look sideways, not to look out of the corner of your eyes, lest it be said of you that you are an imbecile. . .

Third: you are to speak very slowly, very deliberately; you are not to speak hurriedly, not to pant, nor to squeak, lest it be said of you that you are a groaner, a gawker, a squeaker. . . .

Fourth: you are to pretend not to dwell on that which is done, that which is performed. Especially you are to depart from, to forsake evil. And you are not to peer at one, not to peer into one's face, not to stare at one...especially a woman. . .

Fifth: Guard, take care of your ears, of that which you hear. Do not gossip; let what is said remain as said. Ignore it. Pretend not to understand the words. If you cannot ignore it, respond not. And speak not; only listen; let what is said remain as said. . . .

Thus this is very necessary; you are to be prudent, O my precious son. Do not die somewhere in vice, do not die somewhere in vain. Take good heed, take care; see to it that your eyes are open.

Sixth: when you are summoned. . . you are to arise responding, to arise quickly. If you are to be sent as a messenger, you are to run, to be swift. If you are ordered to get something, you are to get it promptly. You are to travel swiftly, to travel bounding, in no wise sluggish; like the wind are you to go. . . .

Seventh: as you are to array yourself, as you are to clothe yourself, you are not to dress vainly, you are not to array yourself fantastically, you are not to place upon yourself the gaudy cape, the gaudy clothing, that which is embroidered. Neither are you to put on rags, tatters, an old loosely-woven cape. . . .

Thus are you to tie on your cape: do not tie it on so that you go tripping over it; neither are you to shorten your cape. Moderately are you to tie it on. Nor are you to expose your shoulder. . . place on you that which is always good, proper, all fine.

Eighth: Listen! Above all you are to be prudent in drink, in food. . . in this wise: when you are to eat, you are not to be hasty, not to be impetuous; you are not to take excessively nor to break up your tortillas. You are not to put a large amount in your mouth; you are not to swallow it un-chewed. You are not to gulp like a dog, when you are to eat food. . . .

And when you are ready to eat, you are to wash your hands, to wash your face, to wash your mouth. And if somewhere you are to eat with others, do not quickly seat yourself at the eating place with others. . . . And you, when you have eaten, once again are you to wash your hands, to wash your mouth, to clean your teeth.

In brief, these are the words as I give you. . . as many words lie guarded. . . Our forefathers, the old men, the old women, the white-haired ones, the white-headed ones, departed leaving them. The many words—O that you could later take them to heart!. . .

They went saying that on earth we travel, we live along a mountain peak. Over here there is an abyss, over there is an abyss. Wherever you are to deviate, wherever you are to go astray, there will you fall, there will you fall into the deep. . .

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And behold how began the life of the young boy. At first, while still a small boy, his hair was shorn. And when he was already ten years old, they then let a tuft of hair grown on the back of his head. And when he was fifteen years old, then the tuft of hair became long. [This was] when he had nowhere taken captives.

And if he took a captive with the help of others, —perchance doing so with the aid of two, or of three, or four, or of five, or of six, at which point came to an end [the reckoning] that a captive was taken with others' help—then the lock of hair was removed. And this was the division of their captive: in six parts it came. The first, who was the real captor, took his body and one of his thighs—the one with the right foot. And the second who took part [in the capture] took the left thigh. And the third took the right upper arm. The fifth took the right forearm. And as for the sixth, he took the left forearm.

And when the tuft on the back of his head was removed, he was shorn so that he was left [another] lock: his hair dress kept, on the right side, the hair hanging low, reaching the bottom of his ear; to one side [only] was is lock of hair set. When this [was done], he assumed another face, he appeared otherwise, so that it might be seen that he had made a captive with the help of others [and that] the tuft of hair on the back of his head had been removed.

And then his grandfather, or his beloved uncle, addressed him. He said to him: “My beloved grandson, the sun the lord of the earth, hath washed thy face. You have taken another face; and you have gone to throw yourself against the foe. Let them take you if, without profit, once more you take a captive with the aid of others. What would you be? Would you have a young girl's lock of hair? Take care lest you again take a captive with others' help. Cast yourself against our foes…