Elbow Room. I never saw or read of any battle equal to it—never was more martial courage display'd, and the provincials, to do the dogs justice, fought like heroes, fought indeed more like devils than men; such carnage and destruction not exceeded by Blenheim, Minden, Fontenoy, Ramillies, Dettingen, the battle of the Boyne, and the late affair of the Spaniards and Algerines—a mere cock-fight to it—no laurels there.
Mr. Caper. No, nor triumphs neither—I regret in particular the number of brave officers that fell that day, many of whom were of the first families in England.
Admiral Tombstone. Aye, a damn'd affair indeed—many powder'd beaus—petit maitres—fops—fribbles—skip jacks—macaronies—jack puddings—noblemen's bastards and whores' sons fell that day—and my poor marines stood no more chance with 'em than a cat in hell without claws.
Lord Boston. It can't be help'd, Admiral; what is to be done next?
Admiral Tombstone. Done?—why, what the devil have you done? nothing yet, but eat Paramount's beef, and steal a few Yankee sheep—and that, it seems, is now become a damn'd lousy, beggarly trade too, for you hav'n't left yourselves a mouthful to eat.
[Aside.]
"Bold at the council board,
But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword."
Lord Boston. But what can we do, Admiral?
Admiral Tombstone. Do?—why, suck your paws—that's all you're like to get. [Aside.] But avast, I must bowse taught there, or we shall get to loggerheads soon, we're such damn'd fighting fellows.
Lord Boston. We must act on the defensive this winter, till reinforcements arrive.