TRUMPETER.
See, now!--how cleanly the Croat is done
Snacks! Master Shooter, and mum's the word.

CROAT (having put on the cap).
I think your cap is a smartish one.

SHARPSHOOTER (winking to the Trumpeter).
'Tis a regular swop, as these gents have heard.



SCENE IV.

The above. An Artilleryman.

ARTILLERYMAN (to the Sergeant).
How is this I pray, brother carabineer?
Shall we longer stay here, our fingers warming,
While the foe in the field around is swarming?

SERGEANT.
Art thou, indeed, in such hasty fret?
Why the roads, as I think, are scarce passable yet.

ARTILLERYMAN.
For me they are not--I'm snug enough here--
But a courier's come, our wits to waken
With the precious news that Ratisbon's taken.