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.