F.—­Put up your iron; I am the last of my race.

S.—­How?  No more fools?

F.—­Not one, so help me!  They have all gone to the wars.

S.—­And why, pray, have you not enlisted?

F.—­I should be no fool if I knew.

* * * * *

FOOL.—­You are somewhat indebted to me.

SOLDIER.—­I do not acknowledge your claim.  Let us submit the matter to arbitration.

F.—­The only arbiter whose decision you respect is on your own side.

S.—­You allude to my sword, the most impartial of weapons:  it cuts both ways.

F.—­And each way is peculiarly objectionable to your opponent.

S.—­But for what am I indebted to you?

F.—­For existence:  the prevalence of me has made you possible.

S.—­The benefit is not conspicuous; were it not for your quarrels, I should enjoy a quantity of elegant leisure.

F.—­As a clodhopper.

S.—­I should at least hop my clods in a humble and Christian spirit; and if some other fellow did did not so hop his—!  I say no more.

F.—­You have said enough; there would be war.

* * * * *

SOLDIER.—­Why wear a cap and bells?

FOOL.—­I hasten to crave pardon, and if spared will at once exchange them.

S.—­For what?

F.—­A helmet and feather.

S.—­G “hang a calf-skin on those recreant limbs.”

F.—­’T is only wisdom should be bound in calf.

S.—­Why?

F.—­Because wisdom is the veal of which folly is the matured beef.

S.—­Then folly should be garbed in cow-skin?

F.—­Aye, that it might the more speedily appear for what it is—­the naked truth.

S.—­How should it?

F.—­You would soon strip off its hide to make harness and trappings withal.  No one thinks how much conquerors owe to cows.

* * * * *

FOOL.—­Tell me, hero, what is strategy?

SOLDIER.—­The art of laying two knives against one throat.

F.—­And what are tactics?

S.—­The art of driving them home.

F.—­Supermundane lexicographer!

S.—­I’ll bust thy crust! (Attempts to draw his sword, gets it between his legs, and falls along.)

F. (from a distance)—­Shall I summon an army, or a sexton?  And will you have it of bronze, or marble?

* * * * *

FOOL.—­When you have gained a great victory, how much of the glory goes to the horse whose back you bestrode?

SOLDIER.—­Nonsense!  A horse cannot appreciate glory; he prefers corn.

F.—­And this you call non-appreciation!  But listen. (Reads) “During the Crusades, a part of the armament of a Turkish ship was two hundred serpents.”  In the pursuit of glory you are at least not above employing humble auxiliaries.  These be curious allies.