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SCENE IX.
The above, without the Capuchin.
FIRST YAGER (to the Sergeant).
But, tell us, what meant he about chanticleer; Whose crowing the general dares to hear?
No doubt it was uttered in spite and scorn.
SERGEANT.
Listen--'Tis not so untrue as it appears; For Friedland was rather mysteriously born, And is 'specially troubled with ticklish ears; He can never suffer the mew of a cat; And when the c.o.c.k crows he starts thereat.
FIRST YAGER.
He's one and the same with the lion in that.
SERGEANT.
Mouse-still must all around him creep, Strict watch in this the sentinels keep, For he ponders on matters most grave and deep.
[Voices in the tent. A tumult.
Seize the rascal! Lay on! lay on!
PEASANT'S VOICE.
Help!--mercy--help!
OTHERS.
Peace! peace! begone!
FIRST YAGER.
Deuce take me, but yonder the swords are out!
SECOND YAGER.
Then I must be off, and see what 'tis about.
[Yagers enter the tent.
SUTLER-WOMAN (comes forward).
A scandalous villain!--a scurvy thief!
TRUMPETER.
Good hostess, the cause of this clamorous grief?
SUTLER-WOMAN.
A cut-purse! a scoundrel! the-villain I call.
That the like in my tent should ever befall!
I'm disgraced and undone with the officers all.
SERGEANT.
Well, coz, what is it?
SUTLER-WOMAN.
Why, what should it be?
But a peasant they've taken just now with me-- A rogue with false dice, to favor his play.
TRUMPETER.
See I they're bringing the boor and his son this way.
SCENE X.
Soldiers dragging in the peasant, bound.
FIRST YAGER.
He must hang!
SHARPSHOOTERS and DRAGOONS.
To the provost, come on!
SERGEANT.
'Tis the latest order that forth has gone.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
In an hour I hope to behold him swinging!
SERGEANT.
Bad work bad wages will needs be bringing.
FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (to the others).
This comes of their desperation. We First ruin them out and out, d'ye see; Which tempts them to steal, as it seems to me.
TRUMPETER.
How now! the rascal's cause would you plead?
The cur! the devil is in you indeed!
FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
The boor is a man--as a body may say.
FIRST YAGER (to the Trumpeter).
Let 'em go! they're of Tiefenbach's corps, the railers, A glorious train of glovers and tailors!
At Brieg, in garrison, long they lay; What should they know about camps, I pray?
SCENE XI.
The above.--Cuira.s.siers.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
Peace! what's amiss with the boor, may I crave?
FIRST SHARPSHOOTER.
