DUETT. LA GLOIRE AND MADELON.
Madelon. Could you to battle march away,
And leave me here complaining?
I'm sure 'twould break my heart to stay,
When you are gone campaigning.
Ah! non, non, non!
Pauvre Madelon
Could never quit her rover:
Ah! non, non, non!
Pauvre Madelon
Would go with you all the world over.
La Gloire. No, no, my love! ah! do not grieve;
A soldier true you'll find me:
I could not have the heart to leave
My little girl behind me.
Ah! non, non, non!
Pauvre Madelon
Should never quit her rover:
Ah! non, non, non!
Pauvre Madelon
Should go with me all the world over.
Both. Then let the world jog as it will,
Let hollow friends forsake us,
We both shall be as happy still
As war and love can make us.
Ah! non, non, non!
Pauvre Madelon
Shall never quit her rover:
Ah! non, non, non,!
Pauvre Madelon
Shall go with {you/me} all the world over.
La Gloire. By the mass, Madelon, such a wife as thou wilt be, would make a man, after another campaign,—for another I must have, to satisfy the cravings of my appetite,—go nigh to forswear the wars.
Madelon. Ah, La Gloire! would it were so! but the sound of a trumpet will ever lead thee after it.
La Gloire. Tut—a trumpet!—thy voice, Madelon, will drown it.
Madelon. Ah, La Gloire!
[Shaking her Head.
La Gloire. Nay, then, I am the veriest poltroon, if I think the sound of a trumpet would move me any more than—[A Parley is sounded from the Walls.]—Eh!—gad—oh!—ecod there's a bustle! a parley from the walls; which may end in a skirmish, or a battle—or a—I'll be with you again in the chopping off of a head.
Madelon. Nay, now, La Gloire, I thought the sound of a trumpet——
La Gloire. A trumpet—simpleton!—that was a—gad I—wasn't it a drum?—Adieu, Madelon! I'll be back again ere—[Parley.]——March! —Charge!—Huzza!
[Draws his Sword, and exit.
Madelon. Well-a-day! a soldier's wife must have a fearful time on't. Yet do I love La Gloire; he is so kind, so tender!—and he has, simply, the best leg in the army. Heigho!—It must feel very odd to sleep in a tent:—a camp must be ever in alarms, and soldiers always ready for surprise.—Dame Toinette, who married a corporal, ere I was born, told me, that, for one whole campaign, her husband went to bed in his boots.