The Works of Frederick Schiller - LightNovelsOnl.com
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He has cheated at play, the cozening knave!
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
But say, has he cheated you, man, of aught?
FIRST SHARPHOOTER.
Just cleaned me out--and not left me a groat.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
And can you, who've the rank of a Friedland man, So shamefully cast yourself away, As to try your luck with the boor at play?
Let him run off, so that run he can.
[The peasant escapes, the others throng together.
FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
He makes short work--is of resolute mood-- And that with such fellows as these is good.
Who is he? not of Bohemia, that's clear.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
He's a Walloon--and respect, I trow, Is due to the Pappenheim cuira.s.sier!
FIRST DRAGOON (joining).
Young Piccolomini leads them now, Whom they chose as colonel, of their own free might, When Pappenheim fell in Luetzen's fight.
FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Durst they, indeed, presume so far?
FIRST DRAGOON.
This regiment is something above the rest.
It has ever been foremost through the war, And may manage its laws, as it pleases best; Besides, 'tis by Friedland himself caressed.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER (to the Second.) Is't so in truth, man? Who averred it?
SECOND CUIRa.s.sIER.
From the lips of the colonel himself I heard it.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
The devil! we're not their dogs, I weep!
FIRST YAGER.
How now, what's wrong? You're swollen with spleen!
SECOND YAGER.
Is it anything, comrades, may us concern?
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
'Tis what none need be wondrous glad to learn.
The Soldiers press round him.
To the Netherlands they would lend us now-- Cuira.s.siers, Yagers, and Shooters away, Eight thousand in all must march, they say.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
What! What! again the old wandering way-- I got back from Flanders but yesterday!
SECOND CUIRa.s.sIER (to the Dragoons).
You of Butler's corps must tramp with the rest.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
And we, the Walloons, must doubtless be gone.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
Why, of all our squadrons these are the best.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
To march where that Milanese fellow leads on.
FIRST YAGER.
The infant? that's queer enough in its way.
SECOND YAGER.
The priest--then, egad! there's the devil to pay.
FIRST CUIRa.s.sIER.
Shall we then leave the Friedlander's train, Who so n.o.bly his soldiers doth entertain-- And drag to the field with this fellow from Spain!
A n.i.g.g.ard whom we in our souls disdain!
That'll never go down--I'm off, I swear.
TRUMPETER.
Why, what the devil should we do there?
We sold our blood to the emperor--ne'er For this Spanish red hat a drop we'll spare!
SECOND YAGER.
On the Friedlander's word and credit alone We ranged ourselves in the trooper line, And, but for our love to Wallenstein, Ferdinand ne'er had our service known.
FIRST DRAGOON.
Was it not Friedland that formed our force?
His fortune shall still be the star of our course.
SERGEANT.
Silence, good comrades, to me give ear-- Talking does little to help us here.
Much farther in this I can see than you all, And a trap has been laid in which we're to fall;
FIRST YAGER.
List to the order-book! hush--be still!
SERGEANT.
But first, Cousin Gustel, I pray thee fill A gla.s.s of Melneck, as my stomach's but weak When I've tossed it off, my mind I'll speak.
SUTLER-WOMAN.
