"On, Romans!" shrieked Cornwallis, who had once seen a theatrical performance and remembered the heroic appeals of the Thespian belligerents, "on to the fray!  No sleep till mornin'." "Let eout all their bowels," yelled Washington, "and down with taxation on tea!" The fighting now ceased, the opposing forces were properly arranged, and Cornwallis, dismounting, prepared to present his sword to Washington according to programme.  As he walked slowly towards the Father of His Country he rehearsed the little speech he had committed for the occasion, while the illustrious being who was to hear it was making desperate efforts to keep in his saddle.  Now he would wildly brandish his sword and narrowly escape cutting off his horse's ears, and then he would fall suddenly forward on to the steed's neck, grasping the mane as drowning men seize hold of straws.  He was giving an inimitable representation of Toodles on horseback.  All idea of the magnitude of the occasion had left him, and when he saw Cornwallis approaching, with slow and stately step, and sword-hilt extended toward him, he inquired, "What'n devil you want, any (hic) how!" "General Washington," said Cornwallis, in dignified and impressive tones, "I tender you my sword.  I need not inform you, Sir, how deeply--" The speech was here suddenly cut short by Washington, who, driving the spurs into his horse, playfully attempted to ride over the commander of the British forces.  He was not permitted to do this, for his aids, seeing his unfortunate condition, seized the horse by the bridle, straightened Washington up in his saddle, and requested Cornwallis to proceed with his remarks. "General Washington," said Cornwallis, "the British Lion prostrates himself at the feet of the American Eagle!" "Eagle? EAGLE!" yelled the infuriated Washington, rolling off his horse and hitting Cornwallis a frightful blow on the head with the flat of his sword, "do you call me a EAGLE, you mean, sneakin' cuss?"  He struck him again, sending him to the ground, and said, "I'll learn you to call me a Eagle, you infernal scoundrel!" Cornwallis remained upon the ground only a moment.  Smarting from the blows he had received, he arose with an entirely unlooked for recuperation on the part of the fallen, and in direct defiance of historical example; in spite of the men of both nations, indeed, he whipped the Immortal Washington until he roared for mercy. The Americans, at first mortified and indignant at the conduct of their chief, now began to sympathize with him, and resolved to whip their mock foes in earnest.  They rushed fiercely upon them, but the British were really the stronger party and drove the Americans back.  Not content with this they charged madly upon them and drove them from the field--from the village, in fact.  There were many heads damaged, eyes draped in mourning, noses fractured and legs lamed--it is a wonder that no one was killed outright.