University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Bay Shore.
The British army now repuls'd, Howe again rallies his flying troops, who had been flying in every direction.
Howe.
But that so many mouths, can witness it,
I would deny myself in Englishman,
And swear this day, that with such cowardice,
No kindred, or alliance, has my birth.
Oh base degen'rate souls, whose ancestors,
At Cressy, Poictiers, and a' Agincourt,
With tenfold numbers, combated, and pluck'd
The budding laurels, from the brows of France.
Back to the charge, once more, and rather die,
Burn'd up, and wither'd on this bloody hill,
Than live the blemish, of your Country's same,
With everlasting, infamy oppress'd.
Their ammunition, as you hear, is spent,
So that unless, their looks, and visages,
Like firce-ey'd Basiliks, can strike you dead;
Return, and rescue yet, my Countrymen,
Some share of honour, on this hapless day.
Let some brave officers, stand on the rear,
And with the small sword, and sharp bayonet,
Drive on each coward that attempts to lag,
That thus, sure death may find the villain out,
With more dread certainty, than him who moves,
Full in the van, to meet the wrathful foe.