Chapter 167

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 cock 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.