Colonel. I do mistrust the soft and temperate air

That hath so long enwrapped us. No "returns

Of bakers," visitations of the Staff,

Alarms or inquisitions have disturbed

Our ten days' rest. Nothing but casual shells

And airy bombs to mind us of the War.

Adjutant. Oh, Sir, thy zeal hath mated with thy conscience

And bred i' the mind mistrustful doubts and fears,

A savage brood, which being come to manhood

Do fight with sweet content and eat her up.

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.

First Cook. Thrice the dreadful message came.

Second Cook. Thrice the mystic buzzer buzzed.

Third Cook. Sergeant cries, "'Tis time, 'tis time."

First Cook. Round about the dixie go;

In the dense ingredients throw—

Extra bully, every lump

Pinched from some forbidden dump,

Biscuits crunched to look like flour,

Cabbage sweet and onions sour—

Make the broth as thick as glue.

The General will inspect the stew.

All. Fire burn and dixie bubble,

Double toil or there'll be trouble.

Second Cook. 'Taters in the cauldron sink,

Peeled by hands as black as ink;

Portions of a slaughtered cat,

Piece of breakfast-bacon fat,

Bits of boot and bits of stick—

Make the gruel slab and thick.

All. Fire burn and dixie bubble,

Double toil or there'll be trouble.

Third Cook. German sausage won in fight

On some dark and stormy night,

Dim and murky watercress

Stolen from a Sergeants' Mess,

Slabs of cheese and chunks of ham,

Lumps of plum and apple jam,

Bits of paper, ends of string,

Mixed with any damned thing,

In the cauldron mingle quick

So the stew be dense and thick.

All. Fire burn and dixie bubble,

Double toil or there'll he trouble. [Exeunt.

Enter Orderly Corporal.

Orderly Corporal. Here's a pretty pass. Eyewash,

eyewash, eyewash. And such a running to and fro and a go

this way and a go that way, and a burnishing up of old

brass and a shouting of horrid words, as though the Devil

himself were inspecting his own furnace. Faith, an I

were eyewashing Beelzebub I could catch it no hotter.

[Shouting within.

Anon, anon. I will eyewash it no further. [Exit.

Flourish. Enter Colonel, Adjutant, Quartermaster

and Sergeant-Cook.

Colonel. Is all prepared?

Sergeant-Cook. The dinners would content

RHONDDA himself.

Quartermaster. The General comes.

Flourish. Enter General and Attendants.

General. Good Colonel,

Our greetings are the warmer for the thought

Of visits past.

Colonel. The service that we owe

In doing pays itself. Will you inspect

The dinners?

General. First we'll greet the Adjutant,

Whom well we recollect.

Adjutant. This is an honour

Which makes our labours light. Will you be pleased

To inspect the dinners?

General. Yes, but let us first

Discuss the general welfare of the troops

Whose good's our care.

Sergeant-Cook (aside to Colonel). The time is getting