“Ready?” Ulenspiegel repeated. “Ready for what? Ready to be flogged do you mean? No, I cannot, nor will I, be flogged by you, Mr. Stock-meester. You have a red beard certainly, and your appearance is formidable. Nevertheless, I am sure that you have a kind heart and would have no desire to thrash a poor fellow like me. And now to tell you the truth I should be loath to do such a thing myself, much less to see any one else do it. For the back of a Christian is a sacred thing, as sacred as his breast which holds the lungs, those trusty organs whereby we breathe the goodly air of God. And think how bitter would be your remorse if a too brutal blow from your cudgel should chance to break me in pieces!”
“Make haste,” said the Stock-meester.
“My Lord,” said Ulenspiegel, addressing himself to the Prince, “believe me, there is no need for all this hurry. First of all the wood of the cudgel ought to be allowed to dry. For I have heard that wood while still green is like to communicate a mortal poison to any flesh with which it comes in contact. Would your Highness desire to see me die such an ugly death? My Lord, my back I hold most pitifully at your service. Have it flogged, if you must, with rods and lashed with whips. But unless you wish to see me dead, spare me, I pray you, from the wood while it is still green.”
“Have mercy on him, Prince,” cried my Lords of Hoogstraeten and of Schoonenbergh both together; while the others all began to smile compassionately. Lamme also put in a word of his own, “Have mercy, my Lord. Green wood is poison, neither more nor less than rank poison!”
The Prince said:
“Very well.”
Thereupon Ulenspiegel leapt in the air again and again, and smote Lamme on his belly and compelled him to dance too, saying: “Join me now in praising the good Duke who has delivered me from the green wood.”
And Lamme did his best to dance, but could not very well because of his belly. And Ulenspiegel gave him to eat and to drink as much as he was able.