The city booth’s office was in the same castle, where the bourgeoisie at that time was almost gathered together by the bourgeoisie and watched the horror of the Croats. The castle’s yard was full of broken coffins and broken vineyards, which the warriors had propelled from the cellars. At the time, some of those who broke into the office of the voud, all the locks and bangs, broke all their fingers, stood in the yard with swords and drank wine from their tops. When they thirst for thirst, they bring the remains of wine to the ground. Some of the goods they racked up – and when they did, they fiercely quarreled and cursed what the horror was, so a beautiful castle yard, where the youth used to gather in the summer to play and sing, it seemed to have become the hell of hell. I was in a good mood with my neighbor Gebhart about what this disobedience really meant when Captain Paradeiser and some of his warriors came out bowing out the city bout behind him and with his gunfire gave him time kicks and bumps.
“Where’s the money?” they cried out to rival; “Where are the thousand taalers that yesterday brought you from Würzburg? Give them here, an old bastard! If you do, let’s slip on your leather.”