The truxman answered:
“I see naught in the town nor on the ships.” And descending:
“Now pay me,” said he.
“Keep what thou hast stolen,” replied Lamme; “but such gains are no profit; thou wilt doubtless vomit it up.”
The truxman, climbing again to the masthead, cried out suddenly:
“Lamme! Lamme! there is a thief going into the galley.”
“I have the key in my pouch,” rejoined Lamme.
Ulenspiegel then, taking Lamme apart, said to him:
“My son, this great tranquillity of Amsterdam affrights me. They have some hidden project.”
“I thought of that,” said Lamme. “The water is freezing in the jugs in the cupboard; the fowl are like wood; hoar frost whitens the sausages; the butter is a stone, the oil is all white, the salt is dry as sand in the sun.”