Lord Boston. And pray, sir, what did you do with the commission, the post, the Duke of Grafton gave you, in lieu of your losses at Preston election, and the expenses of your trial at the king's bench for a riot, which had emptied your pockets?—Why you sold it—you sold it, sir—to raise cash to gamble with.——
Admiral Tombstone. Damn it, don't let us kick up a dust among ourselves, to be laugh'd at fore and aft—this is a hell of a council of war—though I believe it will turn out one before we've done—a scolding and quarrelling like a parcel of damn'd butter whores—I never heard two whores yet scold and quarrel, but they got to fighting at last.
Clinton. Pray, Gentlemen, drop this discourse, consider the honour of England is at stake, and our own safety depends upon this day's consultation.
Lord Boston. 'Tis not for argument's sake—but the dignity of my station requires others should give up first.
Elbow Room. Sir, I have done, lest you should also accuse me of obstructing the proceedings of the council of war.
Mr. Caper. For the same reason I drop it now.
Lord Boston. Well, Gentlemen, what are we met here for?
Admiral Tombstone. Who the devil shou'd know, if you don't?—damn it, didn't you send for us?
Lord Boston. Our late great loss of men has tore up the foundation of our plan, and render'd all further attempts impracticable—'t will be a long time ere we can expect any more reinforcements—and if they should arrive, I'm doubtful of their success.
Clinton. The provincials are vastly strong, and seem no novices in the art of war; 'tis true we gain'd the hill at last, but of what advantage is it to us?—none—the loss of 1400 as brave men as Britain can boast of, is a melancholy consideration, and must make our most sanguinary friends in England abate of their vigour.