Suddenly the lines of the giant’s face suffered a change. He seemed thinner, sadder and greater than ever. And in one hand he held a sceptre, and in the other a sword. And his name was Pride.
And throwing Nele and Ulenspiegel to the ground, he said:
“I am God.”
Then by his side there appeared a ruddy-faced girl, and she was seated on the back of a goat, and her bosom was bare, her gown half open, and she had a wanton eye; and her name was Luxury. After her there came an old woman, a Jewess, who was busy all the time, scraping up the egg-shells of the sea-gulls that lay about on the ground; and her name was Avarice. Then a monk appeared, most greedy and gluttonous, eating chitterlings he was, and cramming himself with sausages and champing his jaws together without ceasing, like the sow whereon he rode; and his name was Greed. Thereafter came Idleness, dragging one leg after the other; wan she was and bloated, and she had a dull eye. And Anger came chasing after Idleness with a sharp needle with which she pricked her so that she cried aloud, and Idleness grieved and lamented with many tears, and kept falling down on to her knees so tired she was. Last of all came Envy, a thin figure with a head like a viper and teeth like the teeth of a pike. And she kept biting all the others with those cruel teeth of hers—Idleness because she had too much leisure, Anger because she was too lively, Greed because he was too well fed, Luxury because she was too ruddy, Avarice because of the treasure of shells she had amassed, Pride because of his robe of purple and his crown. And the wisps kept dancing all around, and they spake with many voices like the voices of men, women, and girls, and in the plaintive voices of children, and they groaned, saying:
“O Pride, father of Ambition, and you, O Anger, that are the source of cruelty, you slew us on many a battlefield, and caused our death in many a prison and many a torture-chamber, that you might keep your sceptres and your crowns! And you, O Envy, that have destroyed so many useful thoughts while yet in the germ, we are the souls of the inventors whom you have persecuted. Avarice, you it is that have turned the blood of the poor into gold, and we are the souls of your victims. O Luxury, you are the friend and the sister of Murder; Nero, Messalina, Philip King of Spain—such are your children, and you buy virtue and you bribe corruption, and we are the souls of your dead. And you, O Idleness, and you, Greed, you befoul the world, but the world must be cleansed of you; we are the souls of those who have perished at your hands.”
And a voice was heard saying:
From the dung-heap flowers arise,
Seven are wicked, but seven are good.
Bad teacher oft makes pupil wise.
Now longs the wandering louse comprise