To all the rank and file, that so my pleasure
In marking their expressions of content
Be equal to the praise I shall bestow.
Voice within. Help! help! The cooks have fainted in the stew.
Adjutant. They'll not be noticed.
Colonel. Now hath fortune proved
My master. I'll not live a slave to Chance.
[Eats some of the stew and dies.
General. Conscience hath claimed her toll and is content.
We'll go inspect another regiment.