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pay that the lot should fall on our prim, pompous lieutenant. It would be well worth the money to look in at one of their narrow windows, and see his dignified back-bone winching under the hands of a good brawny friar.

Ost. (aside, unrolling his lot.) Mighty heaven! Is fate or chance in this?

1st Off. (aside to Ost.) Have you got it, General? Change it for mine if you have.

Ost. No, no, my noble Albert; let us be honest; but thanks to thy generous friendship!

Prior. Now shew the lots. (All the Officers shew their lots, excepting Osterloo, who continues gloomy and thoughtful.) Has no one drawn the sable scroll of election? (To Osterloo.) You are silent, my Lord; of what colour is your lot?

Ost. (holding out his scroll.) Black as midnight.

1st Sold. Has it fallen upon our General? 'tis a damned lot—an unfair lot.

2d Sold. We will not leave him behind us, though a hundred St. Maurices commanded it.

3d Sold. Get within your walls again, ye cunning Friars.

1st Sold. An' we should lie i' the open air all night, we will not leave brave Osterloo behind us. Prior. (to Ost.) Count, you seem gloomy and irresolute: have the goodness to silence these