The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 145

In truth, sirs, it may be far better fun To trample thus over your neighbor's crown.

FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.

Comrade, the times are bad of late-- The sword and the scales live separate.

But do not then blame that I've preferred, Of the two, to lean, as I have, to the sword.

For mercy in war I will yield to none, Though I never will stoop to be drummed upon.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.

Who but the soldier the blame should bear That the laboring poor so hardly fare?

The war with its plagues, which all have blasted Now sixteen years in the land hath lasted.

FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.

Why, brother, the blessed G.o.d above Can't have from us all an equal love.

One prays for the sun, at which t'other will fret One is for dry weather-t'other for wet.

What you, now, regard as with misery rife, Is to me the unclouded sun of life.

If 'tis at the cost of the burgher and boor, I really am sorry that they must endure; But how can I help it? Here, you must know, 'Tis just like a cavalry charge 'gainst the foe: The steeds loud snorting, and on they go!

Whoever may lie in the mid-career-- Be it my brother or son so dear, Should his dying groan my heart divide, Yet over his body I needs must ride, Nor pitying stop to drag him aside.

FIRST YAGER.

True--who ever asks how another may bide?

FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.

Thus, my lads, 'tis my counsel, while On the soldier Dame Fortune deigns to smile, That we with both hands her bounty clasp, For it may not be much longer left to our grasp.

Peace will be coming some over-night, And then there's an end of our martial might.

The soldier unhorsed, and fresh mounted to boor, Ere you can think it 'twill be as before.

As yet we're together firm bound in the land, The hilt is yet fast in the soldier's hand.

But let 'em divide us, and soon we shall find, Short commons is all that remains behind.

FIRST YAGER.

No, no, by the Lord! That won't do for me.

Come, come, lads, let's all now, as one, agree.

SECOND YAGER.

Yes, let us resolve on what 'tis to be.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER (To the Sutler-woman, drawing out his leather purse).

Hostess, tell us how high you've scored.

SUTLER-WOMAN.

Oh, 'tis unworthy a single word.

[They settle.

TRUMPETER.

You do well, sirs, to take a further walk, Your company only disturbs our talk.

[Exeunt Arquebusiers.

FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.

Plague take the fellows--they're brave, I know.

FIRST YAGER.

They haven't a soul 'bove a soapboiler's, though.

SECOND YAGER.

We're now alone, so teach us who can How best we may meet and mar their plan.

TRUMPETER.

How? Why, let's tell them we will not go!

FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.

Despising all discipline! No, my lads, no, Rather his corps let each of us seek, And quietly then with his comrades speak, That every soldier may clearly know, It were not for his good so far to go; For my Walloons to answer I'm free, Every man of 'em thinks and acts with me.

SERGEANT.

The Terzky regiments, both horse and foot, Will thus resolve, and will keep them to't.

SECOND CUIRa.s.sIER (joining the first).

The Walloons and the Lombards one intent.

FIRST YAGER.

Freedom is Yagers' own element.

SECOND YAGER.

Freedom must ever with might entwine-- I live and will die by Wallenstein.

FIRST SHARPSHOOTER.

The Lorrainers go on with the strongest tide, Where spirits are light and courage tried.

DRAGOON.

An Irishman follows his fortune's star.

SECOND SHARPSHOOTER.

The Tyrolese for their sovereign war.

FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.

Then, comrades, let each of our corps agree A pro memoria to sign--that we, In spite of all force or fraud, will be To the fortunes of Friedland firmly bound, For in him is the soldier's father found.

This we will humbly present, when done, To Piccolomini--I mean the son-- Who understands these kind of affairs, And the Friedlander's highest favor shares; Besides, with the emperor's self, they say He holds a capital card to play.

SECOND YAGER.

Well, then, in this, let us all agree, That the colonel shall our spokesman be!

ALL (going).

Good! the colonel shall our spokesman be.

SERGEANT.

Hold, sirs--just toss off a gla.s.s with me To the health of Piccolomini.

SUTLER-WOMAN (brings a flask).

This shall not go to the list of scores, I gladly give it--success be yours!