“But,” said she, “I have always observed that virtue is a quiet, sleepy, thick, and chilly quality. It is a mask to hide grumbling faces, a velvet cloak on a man of stone. I like men that have in their breast a stove well lighted with the fire of virility, which exciteth to valiant and gay enterprises.”
“It was ever thus,” replied Ulenspiegel, “that the lovely she-devil spake to the glorious Saint Anthony.”
There was an inn a score of paces from the road.
“You have spoken well,” said Ulenspiegel, “now you must drink well.”
“My tongue is still cool and fresh,” said the girl.
They went in. On a chest there slumbered a big jug nicknamed “belly,” because of its wide paunch.
“Dost thou see this florin?”
“I see it,” said the baes.
“How many patards would thou extract from it to fill up that belly there with dobbel-clauwert?”