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.