Chaplain. And you and I'll crack a bottle, Captain; (bring a bottle, boy!) 'tis bad enough to perish by famine, but ten thousand times worse to be chok'd for want of moisture. His Lordship and two more make three; and you and I and the bottle make three more, and a three-fold cord is not easily broken; so we're even with him.
Captain Squires. With all my heart.—Boy, bear a hand!
Tom. Coming, sir.
Chaplain. Tom, Tom!—make haste, you scoundrel!—fetch two bottles. I think we can manage it.
Enter Tom with the bottles.
Chaplain. That's right, Tom.—Now bring the glasses, and shut the door after you.
[Exit Tom.
Scene VII. In Boston. A council of war after the battle of Bunker's-Hill.
Lord Boston, Admiral Tombstone, Elbow Room, Mr. Caper, General Clinton, Earl Percy.
Lord Boston. I fully expected, with the help of the last reinforcement you brought me over, and the advice and assistance of three accomplish'd and experienc'd Generals, I should have been able to have subdued the rebels, and gain'd immortal laurels to myself—have return'd to Old England like a Roman Consul, with a score or two of the rebel Generals, Colonels and Majors, to have grac'd my triumph.