Soul, eyes of blue, for hire;
Delights and smiles and tears,
And Death, if you desire.
“To viol’s tone I sing
’Neath night or noonday skies,
A gay, mad, wanton thing
Who sell Love’s merchandise.”
As she sang her song, Gilline was so beautiful, so sweet, and so pretty that all the men, catchpolls, butchers, Lamme, and Ulenspiegel were there, speechless, moved, smiling, captivated by the spell.
All at once, bursting into laughter, Gilline said, looking at Ulenspiegel: