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 a flourishing way,
But what have you done with the Scotchman, say,
Who once in the camp was your constant flame?

SUTLER-WOMAN.
A villain, who tricked me clean, that same
He bolted, and took to himself whate'er
I'd managed to scrape together, or spare,
Leaving me naught but the urchin there.

SOLDIER-BOY (springing forward).
Mother, is it my papa you name?

FIRST YAGER.
Well, the emperor now must father this elf,
For the army must ever recruit itself.

SCHOOLMASTER.
Forth to the school, ye rogue--d'ye hear?

FIRST YAGER.
He, too, of a narrow room has fear.

SERVANT GIRL (entering).
Aunt, they'll be off.

SUTLER-WOMAN.
I come apace.

FIRST YAGER.
What gypsy is that with the roguish face?

SUTLER-WOMAN.
My sister's child from the south, is she.

FIRST YAGER.
Ay, ay, a sweet little niece--I see.

SECOND YAGER (holding the girl).
Softly, my pretty one! stay with me.

GIRL.
The customers wait, sir, and I must go.
[Disengages herself, and exit.

FIRST YAGER.
That maiden's a dainty morsel, I trow!
And her aunt--by heaven! I mind me well,--
When the best of the regiment loved her so,
To blows for her beautiful face they fell.
What different folks one's doomed to know!
How time glows off with a ceaseless flow!
And what sights as yet we may live to see!
(To the Sergeant and Trumpeter.)
Your health, good sirs, may we be free,
A seat beside you here to take?

SCENE VI.

The Yagers, Sergeant, and Trumpeter.

SERGEANT.
We thank ye--and room will gladly make.
To Bohemia welcome.

FIRST YAGER.
Snug enough here!
In the land of the foe our quarters were queer.

TRUMPETER.
You haven't the look on't--you're spruce to view.

SERGEANT.
Ay, faith, on the Saal, and in Meissen, too,
Your praises are heard from the lips of few.

SECOND YAGER.
Tush, man! why, what the plague d'ye mean?
The Croat had swept the fields so clean,
There was little or nothing for us to g