_Colonel._ Alas! it is the part of those who govern
To play the miser with their present good
For fear of future ill. But who comes here?

_Enter_ Messenger.

_Messenger._ So please you I am sent of General Blood
To bid you wait his coming.

_Colonel._ When?

_Messenger._ To-morrow.
He purposes to visit your command
About the dinner-hour. [_Exit._

_Colonel._ Now let th' occasion
Be servant to my wits. "The dinner-hour."
Twice hath he come; and first upon parade
Inspected all the men; the second time
The transport visited. Surmise hath grown
To certainty. He will inspect the dinners!
Go, faithful Adjutant, stir up the cooks
And bid them thicken stews and burnish pots.

_Adjutant._ I take my leave at once and go. [_Exit_ Adjutant.

_Colonel._ Farewell.
Now with elusive Chance I'll try a fall
And on the fateful issue risk my all. [_Flourish. Exit._