And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded;
The flowing Cup they to each other bandy,
They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy.
In course of conversation there arose
A question, as to number of their Foes.
One said there’s Twenty Thousand; others swore
There were, they thought, at least as many more:
As many more at least they would maintain—
Look at their Columns stretching o’er the Plain.
John started up, astonish’d to descry