“No such thing,” said Ulenspiegel.
“What about that half-florin?” said Lamme.
“I haven’t got it,” said Ulenspiegel.
“Here’s a nice way of going on!” cried the innkeeper. “I shall strip your doublet and shirt from the two of you!”
Suddenly Lamme took courage of all he had been drinking:
“And if I choose to eat and to drink,” he cried, “yea, to eat and to drink the worth of twenty-seven florins, and more, do you think I shall not do so? Do you think that this belly of mine is not the equal of a penny? God’s life! Up to now I have fed on ortolans. But you, never have you carried anything of that sort under your belt of greasy hide. For you, you bad man, must needs carry your suet in the collar of your doublet, far otherwise than I that bear three inches at least of delicate fat on this good belly of mine.”
At this the innkeeper fell into a passion of rage, and though he was a stammerer he began to talk at a great rate, and the greater his haste the more he stammered and spluttered like a dog that has just come out of the water. Ulenspiegel began to throw pellets of bread at him, and Lamme, growing more and more excited, continued his harangue in the following strain:
“And now, what do you say? For here have I enough, and more than enough, to pay you for those three lean chickens forsooth, and those four mangy poulets, to say nothing of that big simpleton of a peacock that parades his paltry tail in the stable yard. And if your very skin was not more dry than that of an ancient cock, if your bones even now were not falling to very dust within your breast, still should I have the wherewithal to eat you up, you and your slobbering servant there—your one-eyed serving-maid and your cook, whose arms are not long enough to scratch himself though he had the itch! And do you see,” he continued, “do you see this fine bird of yours that for the sake of half a florin would have deprived us of our doublet and our shirt? Say, what is your own wardrobe worth, preposterous chatterbox that you are; and I will give you three liards in exchange for the lot!”
But the innkeeper, who by this time was beside himself with rage, stammered and spluttered more and more, while Ulenspiegel went on throwing pellets of bread in his face, till Lamme at last cried out again in a voice brave as a lion’s:
“What’s the value, think you, skinny-face, of a fine donkey with a splendid nose, long ears, large chest, and legs as strong as iron? Twenty-eight florins at the least, is it not so, most seedy of innkeepers? And how many old nails have you, pray, locked fast away in your coffer, with which to pay the price of so fine an animal?”