“Let’s drink,” said the seven.
“Let’s drink,” said the catchpolls.
“Let’s drink,” said Gilline, making her viols sing. “I am beautiful; let us drink. I could take the Archangel Gabriel in the nets of my singing.”
“Bring us to drink then,” said Ulenspiegel, “wine to crown the feast, wine of the best; I would have a drop of liquid fire at every hair of our thirsty bodies.”
“Let us drink!” said Gilline; “twenty gudgeons more like you, and the pikes will sing no more.”
The Stevenyne brought wine. All were sitting, drinking and eating, the catchpolls and the girls together. The seven, seated at the table of Ulenspiegel and Lamme, threw, from their table to the girls, hams, sausages, omelettes, and bottles, which they caught in the air like carps snatching flies on the surface of a pond. And the Stevenyne laughed, sticking out her tusks and showing packets of candles, five to the pound, that hung above the bar. These were the girls’ candles. Then she said to Ulenspiegel:
“When men go to the stake, they carry a tallow candle on the way thither; would you like to have one now?”
“Drink up!” said Ulenspiegel.
“Drink up,” said the seven.
Said Gilline: