Pish! traffic in matches! who would do't?

CITIZEN.
A wine-shop his grandfather leaves, to boot,
A cellar with twenty casks of wine.

TRUMPETER.
These with his comrades he'll surely share.

SECOND YAGER.
Hark ye, lad--be a camp-brother of mine.

CITIZEN.
A bride he leaves sitting, in tears, apart.

FIRST YAGER.
Good--that now's a proof of an iron heart.

CITIZEN.
His grandmother's sure to die with sorrow.

SECOND YAGER.
The better--for then he'll inherit to-morrow.

SERGEANT (advances gravely, and lays his hand on the
Recruit's tin cap).
The matter no doubt you have duly weighed,
And here a new man of yourself have made;
With hanger and helm, sir, you now belong
To a nobler and more distinguished throng.