_Capt. Golding._ The Lancers look very well: they have got a fair dress; but still they are mere light-dragoons. They are too new, and have not yet acquired the polish of the Hussars. _All the Mess._ Certainly not!—mere light-dragoons! _Col. Diamond._ Besides, they have lately lost ground.—It has gone abroad upon them. They can never hope to succeed. _Several of the Mess._ How, pray Colonel?—What has happened? _Col. Diamond._ They absolutely _dance_. _Major Flowers._ I have heard the rumour. _Capt. Tache._ Indeed! _Lieut. Lavender._ Shocking! _Cornet Small._ Horrible! _Col. Diamond._ They dine so early as six, too. _All the Mess._ Oh! Oh! that will never do. _Major Flowers._ Besides, their scarlet trowsers are not wide enough; and I have seen positively a grey hair on one of their whiskers. In short, we must go to Lady Mary's ball, to cut them out at _once_. _All the Mess._ Certainly, at once! _Colonel_ (_to his servant_). John! I'll dress at twelve; and d' y' hear, I'll wear my long ball spurs. _Dr. Scott_ (_to his servant_). Sandy! _Sandy._ Ser. _Dr. Scott._ Is there a fire in my room? _Sandy._ Yes, Ser. _Dr. Scott._ Gang then an' mak' a bason o' gruel, an'—d'ye hear?—take my snuff-box, an' fill it; an' put my slippers afore the fire. [_Exit Sandy at a walk._] _Col. Diamond._ What, off! Doctor. _Dr. Scott._ Yes, I'm gauin' to bed; an' if you a' consulted yer health an' yer pockets, ye wad do sae likwise. _All the Mess._ Ha! ha! ha! Good night! Good night! _Dr. Scott._ I tell ye what lads,—yer a' gude sodgers in spite o' yir claethes, an' yir gimcrackery, an' yir nonsense; for I've seen some o' ye faight afore noo. Lord Wellington said that his dandy officers were the best o' a'; an' maybe they are as gude as others; but I tell ye what, it's na' by turning naight into day, an' whisking aboot amangst a crood o' gigling lassies, that ye'll improve yoursels in the art o' war, or the strength that is as useful an' necessary for it. Good naight to ye a'! _All the Mess._ Good night, Doctor, good night. [_Exit Dr. Scott._] _Col. Diamond_ (_after a short pause_). “There's another star gone out.” _Capt. Bright._ Bravo! Colonel, a good quotation. _Cornet Lilly._ Very good indeed!—(_in a whisper_) Pray from whom is it, Captain Bright? _Capt. Bright._ From a very particular friend of mine—Lord Byron. _Major Flowers._ I hope you have cut him. He is decidedly hostile to us. _Capt. Bright._ I have never seen him since he left England. But I meant to cut him ever since he published his scurrility in the “Liberal.” He first abused the army, and then became a soldier himself. _Col. Diamond._ But, Major, what does Lady Mary's card say? Have you got one here? _Major Flowers._ I have not. _Cornet Small._ I have, Colonel, and here it is. [_Gives a card._]