Lusatia's woods are tenanted by bands

Of the late troops, who levy on the country

Their maintenance: the Chatelains must keep340

Their castle walls—beyond them 'tis but doubtful

Travel for your rich Count or full-blown Baron.

My comfort is that, wander where I may,

I've little left to lose now.

Wer.‍And I—nothing.

Gab. That's harder still. You say you were a soldier.

Wer. I was.