Lord Boston. Say—what is it? Speak what you know.
Messenger. Colonel Smith is defeated, and fast retreating.
Lord Boston. Good God!—What does he say? Mercy on me!
Messenger. They're flying before the enemy.
Lord Boston. Britons turn their backs before the Rebels!—The Rebels put Britons to flight?—Said you not so?
Messenger. They are routed, sir;—they are flying this instant;—the Provincials are numerous, and hourly gaining strength;—they have nearly surrounded our troops. A reinforcement, sir—a timely succour may save the shatter'd remnant Speedily! speedily, sir! or they're irretrievably lost!
Lord Boston. Good God! What does he say? Can it be possible?
Messenger. Lose no time, sir.
Lord Boston. What can I do?—Oh dear!
Officer. Draw off a detachment—form a brigade; prepare part of the train; send for Lord Percy; let the drums beat to arms.