The French line is in front, next the Prussians: poor Generals of Dauphiness are panting to retrieve themselves.

But with regiments jammed in this astonishing way, and got collectively into the lion's throat, what can be done?
Steady, rigid as iron clock-work, the Prussian line strides forward; at forty paces' distance delivers its first shock of lightning, bursts into platoon fire; and so continues, steady at the rate of five shots a minute,--hard to endure by poor masses all in a coil.

"The artillery tore down whole ranks of us," says the Wutenberg Dragoon; [His Letter in MULLER, p.

83.] "the Prussian musketry did terrible execution." Things began %o waver very soon, French reeling back from the Prussian fire, Reichs troops rocking very uneasy, torn by such artillery; when, to crown the matter, Seidlitz, seeing all things rock to the due extent, bursts out of Tageswerben Hollow, terribly compact and furious, upon the rear of them.

Which sets all things into inextricable tumble; and the Battle is become a rout and a riding into ruin, no Battle ever more.
Lasted twenty-five minutes, this second act of it, or till half-past four: after which, the curtains rapidly descending (Night's curtain, were there no other) cover the remainder; the only stage-direction, EXEUNT OMNES.