The young man to whom he spoke went up to him, to beat him, but Ulenspiegel, gripping him by the collar:
"If you strike me," said he, "I will make you spew out your tongue."
Then turning towards certain men of Antwerp that were present:
"Signorkes and pagaders," said he, pointing out the ragged young men, "be cautious, these are spurious Flemings, traitors paid to bring us to ill, to misery, and to ruin."
"Hey," said he, "donkey faces, withered with want, whence have ye the money that chinks to-day in your pouches? Have ye perchance sold your skins beforehand for drumheads?"
"Look at the sermonizer!" said the strangers.
Then they all began to shout together with one accord speaking of Our Lady:
"Mieke has a fine robe. Mieke has a fine crown! I will give them to my doxy."
They went away, while one of them had got up into a pulpit to proclaim insulting and outrageous things from it, and they came back crying:
"Come down, Mieke, come down before we go and fetch you. Perform a miracle, that we may see if you can walk as well as you can have Mieke carried about, the lazy thing!"
But Ulenspiegel cried in vain: "Workers of ruin, have done with your vile talk; all pillage is a crime!" They ceased not at all from their talk; and some spoke even of breaking into the choir to force Mieke to come down.
Hearing this, an old woman, who sold candles in the church, flung in their faces the ashes of her foot warmer; but she was beaten and flung down on the floor, and then the riot began.
The markgrave came to the church with his sergeants. Seeing the populace assembled, he exhorted them to leave the church, but so feebly that only a few went away; the others said:
"First we want to hear the canons singing vespers in honour of Mieke."
"We will sing ourselves," answered the ragged strangers.
Which they did in the naves and near the porch of the church. Some played at Krieke-steenen, at cherry-stones, and said: "Mieke, you never game in paradise and you are bored there; play with us."
And insulting the statue without ceasing, they cried out, hooted and whistled.
The markgrave pretended to be afraid and departed. By his orders all the doors of the church were shut save one.
Without the populace having any hand in it, the ragtag and bobtail of the strangers became bolder and shouted more and more. And the roofs reëchoed as though to the din of a hundred cannon.