Wallensteins Camp | Page 2

trim's so spruce, and their purse well lined.
[They move towards the tent.
SCENE II.
The above--Sergeant-Major, Trumpeter, Hulan.
TRUMPETER.
What would the boor? Out, rascal, away!
PEASANT.
Some victuals and drink, worthy masters, I pray,
For
not a warm morsel we've tasted to day.
TRUMPETER.
Ay, guzzle and guttle--'tis always the way.
HULAN (with a glass).
Not broken your fast! there--drink, ye hound!
He leads the peasant to the tent--the others come forward.
SERGEANT (to the Trumpeter).
Think ye they've done it without
good ground?
Is it likely they double our pay to-day,
Merely that
we may be jolly and gay?
TRUMPETER.
Why, the duchess arrives to-day, we know,
And
her daughter too--
SERGEANT.
Tush! that's mere show--
'Tis the troops collected from other lands

Who here at Pilsen have joined our bands--
We must do the best we

can t' allure 'em,
With plentiful rations, and thus secure 'em.
Where
such abundant fare they find,
A closer league with us to bind.
TRUMPETER.
Yes!--there's something in the wind.
SERGEANT.
The generals and commanders too--
TRUMPETER.
A rather ominous sight, 'tis true.
SERGEANT.
Who're met together so thickly here--
TRUMPETER.
Have plenty of work on their hands, that's clear.
SERGEANT.
The whispering and sending to and fro--
TRUMPETER.
Ay! Ay!
SERGEANT.
The big-wig from Vienna, I trow,
Who since
yesterday's seen to prowl about
In his golden chain of office there--

Something's at the bottom of this, I'll swear.
TRUMPETER.
A bloodhound is he beyond a doubt,
By whom the
duke's to be hunted out.
SERGEANT.
Mark ye well, man!--they doubt us now,
And they
fear the duke's mysterious brow;
He hath clomb too high for them,
and fain
Would they beat him down from his perch again.
TRUMPETER.
But we will hold him still on high--
That all would
think as you and I!
SERGEANT.
Our regiment, and the other four
Which Terzky
leads--the bravest corps
Throughout the camp, are the General's own,

And have been trained to the trade by himself alone
The officers
hold their command of him,
And are all his own, or for life or limb.

SCENE III.
Enter Croat with a necklace. Sharpshooter following him. The above.
SHARPSHOOTER.
Croat, where stole you that necklace, say?

Get rid of it man--for thee 'tis unmeet:
Come, take these pistols in
change, I pray.
CROAT.
Nay, nay, Master Shooter, you're trying to cheat.
SHARPSHOOTER.
Then I'll give you this fine blue cap as well,

A lottery prize which just I've won:
Look at the cut of it--quite the
swell!
CROAT (twirling the Necklace in the Sun).
But this is of pearls and
of garnets bright,
See, how it plays in the sunny light!
SHARPSHOOTER (taking the Necklace).
Well, I'll give you to boot,
my own canteen--
I'm in love with this bauble's beautiful sheen.
[Looks at it.
TRUMPETER.
See, now!--how cleanly the Croat is done
Snacks!
Master Shooter, and mum's the word.
CROAT (having put on the cap).
I think your cap is a smartish one.
SHARPSHOOTER (winking to the Trumpeter).
'Tis a regular swop,
as these gents have heard.
SCENE IV.
The above. An Artilleryman.
ARTILLERYMAN (to the Sergeant).
How is this I pray, brother
carabineer?
Shall we longer stay here, our fingers warming,
While
the foe in the field around is swarming?

SERGEANT.
Art thou, indeed, in such hasty fret?
Why the roads,
as I think, are scarce passable yet.
ARTILLERYMAN.
For me they are not--I'm snug enough here--

But a courier's come, our wits to waken
With the precious news that
Ratisbon's taken.
TRUMPETER.
Ha! then we soon shall have work in hand.
SERGEANT.
Indeed! to protect the Bavarian's land,
Who hates the
duke, as we understand,
We won't put ourselves in a violent sweat.
ARTILLERYMAN.
Heyday!--you'll find you're a wiseacre yet.
SCENE V.
The above--Two Yagers. Afterwards Sutler-woman,
Soldier-boy,
Schoolmaster, Servant-girl.
FIRST YAGER.
See! see!
Here meet we a jovial company!
TRUMPETER.
Who can these greencoats be, I wonder,
That strut
so gay and sprucely yonder!
SERGEANT.
They're the Yagers of Holk--and the lace they wear,

I'll be sworn, was ne'er purchased at Leipzig fair.
SUTLER-WOMAN (bringing wine).
Welcome, good sirs!
FIRST YAGER.
Zounds, how now?
Gustel of Blasewitz here, I vow!
SUTLER-WOMAN.
The same in sooth--and you I know,
Are the
lanky Peter of Itzeho:
Who at Glueckstadt once, in revelling night,


With the wags of our regiment, put to flight
All his father's
shiners--then crowned the fun--
FIRST YAGER.
By changing his pen for a rifle-gun.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
We're old acquaintance, then, 'tis clear.
FIRST YAGER.
And to think we should meet in Bohemia here!
SUTLER-WOMAN.
Oh, here to-day--to-morrow yonder--
As the
rude war-broom, in restless trace,
Scatters and sweeps us from place
to place.
Meanwhile I've been doomed far round to wander.
FIRST YAGER.
So one would think, by the look of your face.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
Up the country I've rambled to Temsewar,

Whither I went with the baggage-car,
When Mansfeld before us we
chased away;
With the duke near Stralsund next we lay,
Where
trade went all to pot, I may say.
I jogged with the succors to Mantua;

And back again came, under Feria:
Then, joining a Spanish
regiment,
I took a short cut across to Ghent;
And now to Bohemia
I'm come to get
Old scores paid off, that are standing yet,
If a
helping hand by the duke be lent--
And yonder you see my sutler's
tent.
FIRST YAGER.
Well, all things seem in