Jetter. We must not forget him. He's a very wall of defence. In thinking of
him, one fancies, that if one could only hide behind him, the devil himself
could not get at one.
Here's to William of Orange! Hurrah!

All. Hurrah! Hurrah!

Soest. Now, grey-heard, let's have your toast.

Ruysum. Here's to old soldiers! To all soldiers! War for ever!

Buyck. Bravo, old fellow. Here's to all soldiers. War for ever!

Jetter. War! War! Do ye know what ye are shouting about? That it should
slip glibly from your tongue is natural enough; but what wretched work it
is for us, I have not words to tell you. To be stunned the whole year round
by the beating of the drum; to hear of nothing except how one troop
marched here, and another there; how they came over this height, and
halted near that mill; how many were left dead on this field, and how
many on that; how they press forward, and how one wins, and another
loses, without being able to comprehend what they are fighting about; how
a town is taken, how the citizens are put to the sword, and how it fares
with the poor women and innocent children. This is a grief and a trouble,
and then one thinks every moment, "Here they come! It will be our turn
next."

Soest. Therefore every citizen must be practised in the use of arms.

Jetter. Fine talking, indeed, for him who has a wife and children. And yet I