Aaron Burr, Sir

This song introduces us to the “Aaron Burr chord progression” (I vi iii). This progression can be heard in key moments relating to Burr including “Wait for It”, “Non-Stop”, “The Election of 1800”, and “The World Was Wide Enough.” The chord progression feels like it can’t finish what it started. This is because it lands on the iii chord, which doesn’t go anywhere. The chord progression reflects Burr’s idea of “talk less, smile more,” where you don’t take risks, and instead only play the game if you have a chance of winning, and you end up having to “wait for it”.

Miranda compresses the timeline here. Hamilton applied to King’s College in 1773 or 1774. He would have been ending his education in 1776, not looking to begin it.

Also, according to Chernow, though he would’ve been acquainted with both Burr and Mulligan by this time, Hamilton wouldn’t meet Laurens until 1777, when they were both aides to George Washington. Lafayette would join the group later that same year.

In the late Spring of 1777, Hamilton began the most intimate friendship of his life with an elegant, blue-eyed young officer named John Laurens, who formally joined Washington’s family [what the aides were called] in October.

[…] Hamilton and Laurens formed a colorful trio with a young French nobleman who was appointed an honorary major general in the Continental Army on July 31, 1777.

1776 is also a fitting starting point for the plot, as that was the year the Declaration of Independence was signed and the “American experiment” officially began.

“New York City, center of the universe”

The intonation of New York City is reminiscent of Angel’s words at the beginning of “Santa Fe” from Rent, and New York City is indeed the center of the universe in Hamilton.

In addition to compressing time (see the preceding annotation on 1776), the locations in the musical are also compressed. The musical repeatedly moves events to New York City, and locations are mentioned much more frequently when they are in within the Big Apple than when they are anywhere else. This song sequence (through “Farmer Refuted”) brings Laurens and Marquis de Lafayette to the city years early, and “The Schuyler Sisters” relocates the sisters and their Albany social scene to Manhattan. In “Right Hand Man,” many specific New York landmarks are called out, but the war songs after the retreat from New York describe the battles without mentioning landmarks, and no other locations are specified throughout the war songs.

In “Non-Stop,” Hamilton and Burr emphatically come back to New York, and “Cabinet Battle #1” dramatically announces that it is set in New York City, but the musical never mentions that Hamilton is in Philadelphia (with the relocated Federal government) in “Say No to This” and “Cabinet Battle #2.” When the musical clearly returns to New York in “Blow Us All Away” and “It’s Quiet Uptown,” specific landmarks (Broadway and uptown) show up again.

The focus on New York City, the city of immigrants, reinforces the pro-immigration theme while simultaneously simplifying a complex life spread across the Northeast into a single location.

And of course, it flatters the show’s Broadway audience. ;)

I have a notebook somewhere that has every rhyme for Burr and I was just ticking them off the list.

My favorite permutation of it is “Mercer” which is Mercer Street, at the top of “The Room Where It Happens.”

This rhyming introduction repeats itself throughout the show. It is also found in “Right Hand Man,” “The Story of Tonight (Reprise),” “Ten Duel Commandments,” “Non-Stop,” and “The Election of 1800.”

Miranda uses the Burr/sir rhyme to go hard on compound rhyme—the word on the end of the line repeats as an identical rhyme, but the word before it is a true rhyme, creating one larger polysyllabic rhyme. He jumps right in here with Burr/sure (sir) and service/nervous (sir). That’s classic Cam'ron.

It’s also adorable to note that Hamilton is so young and nervous here that he introduces himself in plain speech without the melody that becomes his name-motif for the rest of the show. Compare to his much smoother approach to Angelica Schuyler; a few years of wartime responsibility have taught Hamilton how to conduct himself with confidence.

Original Burr and Odom as Burr

The original casting call for Burr:

AARON BURR: tenor/baritone, sings and raps in equal measure. Our narrator. A cool, steely reserve. An orphan raised in wealth, plays his cards and opinions close to the vest. Slow to anger, but when he gets there, look out. Javert meets Mos Def.

In the original Broadway cast, Aaron Burr was played by Leslie Odom Jr. Coincidentally, Aaron Burr was himself named after his father, making both the actor and the character “juniors.”

The first tune in the show was all about Hamilton establishing himself, introducing himself, repeating his name. Here in the next, where we are introduced to Hamilton’s foil, it’s Hamilton, not Burr, who first speaks Burr’s name—and when asked to identify himself, Burr responds noncommittally. He can’t even answer to his name without first surveying the risks. In their very first interaction, this seeming throwaway line signals the contrast between the two of them that will constitute the essential structure of the show. Burr always keeps his cards close to the vest.

Burr’s cagey personality is even conveyed in the music. When Hamilton speaks, the music behind him is rich and multi-instrumental; when Burr speaks, most of that is stripped away, and what remains is stuttery, hesitant, and barely even carries a beat. The music tells you that Burr is holding back.

It’s an excellent way for them to meet. We get a sense of Burr’s uncertain identity and willingness to hesitate in the name of surety, and an immediate contrast with Hamilton who is constantly (and to his detriment) speaking his mind, his identity, his name.

I have a notebook somewhere that has every rhyme for Burr and I was just ticking them off the list.

My favorite permutation of it is “Mercer” which is Mercer Street, at the top of “The Room Where It Happens.”

This rhyming introduction repeats itself throughout the show. It is also found in “Right Hand Man,” “The Story of Tonight (Reprise),” “Ten Duel Commandments,” “Non-Stop,” and “The Election of 1800.”

Miranda uses the Burr/sir rhyme to go hard on compound rhyme—the word on the end of the line repeats as an identical rhyme, but the word before it is a true rhyme, creating one larger polysyllabic rhyme. He jumps right in here with Burr/sure (sir) and service/nervous (sir). That’s classic Cam'ron.

It’s also adorable to note that Hamilton is so young and nervous here that he introduces himself in plain speech without the melody that becomes his name-motif for the rest of the show. Compare to his much smoother approach to Angelica Schuyler; a few years of wartime responsibility have taught Hamilton how to conduct himself with confidence.

I have a notebook somewhere that has every rhyme for Burr and I was just ticking them off the list.

My favorite permutation of it is “Mercer” which is Mercer Street, at the top of “The Room Where It Happens.”

This rhyming introduction repeats itself throughout the show. It is also found in “Right Hand Man,” “The Story of Tonight (Reprise),” “Ten Duel Commandments,” “Non-Stop,” and “The Election of 1800.”

Miranda uses the Burr/sir rhyme to go hard on compound rhyme—the word on the end of the line repeats as an identical rhyme, but the word before it is a true rhyme, creating one larger polysyllabic rhyme. He jumps right in here with Burr/sure (sir) and service/nervous (sir). That’s classic Cam'ron.

It’s also adorable to note that Hamilton is so young and nervous here that he introduces himself in plain speech without the melody that becomes his name-motif for the rest of the show. Compare to his much smoother approach to Angelica Schuyler; a few years of wartime responsibility have taught Hamilton how to conduct himself with confidence.

I have a notebook somewhere that has every rhyme for Burr and I was just ticking them off the list.

My favorite permutation of it is “Mercer” which is Mercer Street, at the top of “The Room Where It Happens.”

This rhyming introduction repeats itself throughout the show. It is also found in “Right Hand Man,” “The Story of Tonight (Reprise),” “Ten Duel Commandments,” “Non-Stop,” and “The Election of 1800.”

Miranda uses the Burr/sir rhyme to go hard on compound rhyme—the word on the end of the line repeats as an identical rhyme, but the word before it is a true rhyme, creating one larger polysyllabic rhyme. He jumps right in here with Burr/sure (sir) and service/nervous (sir). That’s classic Cam'ron.

It’s also adorable to note that Hamilton is so young and nervous here that he introduces himself in plain speech without the melody that becomes his name-motif for the rest of the show. Compare to his much smoother approach to Angelica Schuyler; a few years of wartime responsibility have taught Hamilton how to conduct himself with confidence.

^{One of Leslie Odom Jr. (original Broadway Aaron Burr)’s first film credits was playing a smooth-talking snob from Princeton on an episode of Gilmore Girls.}

This is arguably an anachronism. In 1776, Princeton University was called the College of New Jersey. The name was changed in 1896. Of course, Princeton is also the name of the town where the school is located, so it technically works, although “at” would be more likely used with a school than a town. Miranda may have also chosen to use Princeton because of the name-brand recognition, as well as the fact that the College of New Jersey currently exists as a separate institution.

Hamilton wasn’t really a tiger kinda guy anyway. Washington and his aides-de-camp called him the “Little Lion.” Guess where Hamilton actually went to college? King’s College, a.k.a.

The bursar, as explained above, is the person who handles a university’s finances. This figure was chosen to be the recipient of the punch because of the continued play on “Burr, sir.”

In reality, Hamilton met with John Witherspoon, the president of the college, possibly accompanied by Mulligan, and outlined his reasons for wanting to graduate “with as much rapidity as his exertions would enable him to do.” Witherspoon had made a project out of tightening the college’s admission and graduation requirements, and he might have been biased by that. He did take Hamilton’s two year proposal to the board of trustees, but they collectively and formally rejected Hamilton.

This may have been because of the aforementioned stricter policies, or it might have been because the last person to complete their studies in two years was James Madison, and he ALMOST HAD A BREAKDOWN doing it. By the time he graduated, he was too weak to travel home to Virginia, so he stayed on for an extra year privately studying with Witherspoon. The two were close.

Miranda had a very simple reason for deviating from real history: “this rhyme was too good to pass up.”

This kinda stuff is why it’s always a good idea to check in with Chernow.

From Hamilton: A Revolution:

I know every word that rhymes with Burr. It’s a long list. I tried to use all of them in this show. The “Rhymes with Hamilton” list is nonexistent, so.

The bursar, as explained above, is the person who handles a university’s finances. This figure was chosen to be the recipient of the punch because of the continued play on “Burr, sir.”

In reality, Hamilton met with John Witherspoon, the president of the college, possibly accompanied by Mulligan, and outlined his reasons for wanting to graduate “with as much rapidity as his exertions would enable him to do.” Witherspoon had made a project out of tightening the college’s admission and graduation requirements, and he might have been biased by that. He did take Hamilton’s two year proposal to the board of trustees, but they collectively and formally rejected Hamilton.

This may have been because of the aforementioned stricter policies, or it might have been because the last person to complete their studies in two years was James Madison, and he ALMOST HAD A BREAKDOWN doing it. By the time he graduated, he was too weak to travel home to Virginia, so he stayed on for an extra year privately studying with Witherspoon. The two were close.

Miranda had a very simple reason for deviating from real history: “this rhyme was too good to pass up.”

This kinda stuff is why it’s always a good idea to check in with Chernow.

The excitement of this exclamation is an insightful revelation to the character of Hamilton—he isn’t the least bit ashamed of hitting someone because they didn’t listen to him. He has something to say and he is never afraid to say it.

This early on we’re already seeing the juxtaposition of personalities between Hamilton and Burr.

The real story: Burr applied to Princeton at 11, and though his scholarship was good, he was rejected because the trustees thought he might be too young for the school. Burr, undeterred, studied independently for two years and then reapplied at 13 for the JUNIOR CLASS, the li'l shit. The school compromised and allowed him to enter as a sophomore. Burr was admitted to Princeton at age 13, and graduated at age 16.

Hashtag check in with Chernow.

In the context of the show, this will be the first time we see Hamilton wishing to switch places or replicate something Burr has done, and we see it again in “The Story of Tonight (Reprise).” Of course, by Act II the roles are completely reversed.

Here’s a funny thing about rearranging the chronology. By 1776, Burr has indeed already joined the revolution and fought in the Quebec campaign, and this line references that, but later in this song Burr is still hanging back from openly taking a side.

The obvious reading of the line (in the context of the musical) is that Hamilton is saying that Burr graduated in two and that Hamilton wants to do that so he can join the Revolution, but once the listener is more familiar with Burr’s biography, the alternate (and syntactically cleaner) reading rises to the surface.

So far the exchange has rhymed neatly, but here, suddenly, dissonance, perhaps meant to indicate Hamilton’s discontent. The sudden departure from the rhyme scheme illustrates how Hamilton’s pride can make him foolish. He writes intelligently, but his intellect can’t save him from his pride. It’s his pride that leads to his undoing in the Reynolds, and his death in the duel with Burr. As Burr tells him, “your pride will be the death of us all”.

The way Lin-Manuel Miranda raps these lines, it’s clear that this really gets under his skin. You gather that Hamilton’s the kind of guy you can call poor, ugly, low-born, bastard whoreson (like we do at the beginning of the musical), whatever you like, and he’ll power through it. But if you call him stupid, well, look out. Mess with the bull, you get the horns.

The real story: Burr applied to Princeton at 11, and though his scholarship was good, he was rejected because the trustees thought he might be too young for the school. Burr, undeterred, studied independently for two years and then reapplied at 13 for the JUNIOR CLASS, the li'l shit. The school compromised and allowed him to enter as a sophomore. Burr was admitted to Princeton at age 13, and graduated at age 16.

Hashtag check in with Chernow.

In the context of the show, this will be the first time we see Hamilton wishing to switch places or replicate something Burr has done, and we see it again in “The Story of Tonight (Reprise).” Of course, by Act II the roles are completely reversed.

Burr’s father was a founder and president of Princeton University, then known as the College of New Jersey. That probably did have something to do with it…

But! Part of it definitely had to do with his failed application at 11 years old. According to biographer Milton Lomask, Burr was so annoyed that he hadn’t been allowed in at age 11 that he studied along with the Princeton curriculum at home for two years. Then, when he got placed into the sophomore class instead of the junior class, he was so pissed off that he studied sixteen hours a day, often skipping lunch, to zip through his time there.

As a note—he ended up hanging around Princeton for a year after he graduated to try and figure out what the heck he wanted to do.

Without much knowledge of each others history, these two initially bond over this shared pain and ambition. Unfortunately, they were two orphans with very different backgrounds. Sure, both Burr and Hamilton had heavy family legacies to bear, but Burr had his to live up to and Hamilton instead had his to rise above. And they’re about to find out that they have very different ideas about how to fulfill this ambition…

In reality, Hamilton’s father remained in irregular contact with him until his death in 1799. However, he had abandoned the family in the 1760s and never saw Alexander again, even after the son rose to prominence. To quote Chernow:

Father and son never entirely lost touch with each other, but a curious detachment, an estrangement as psychological as much as geographical, separated them.

This is the first of many points in the show when Alexander Hamilton raises a glass of an alcoholic beverage. In “The Story of Tonight (Reprise),” he and his friends are played as pretty drunk after his wedding, which perhaps leads to some intemperate words. However, Hamilton (whose father was an alcoholic) had a “contempt for drunkenness” and “hatred of drinking,” and certainly didn’t need alcohol to loosen his tongue.

But Hamilton wasn’t a teetotaler; at one point, for his health, his doctor limited him to consuming no more than three glasses of wine per day. So accepting a drink from Burr is perfectly within character.

As young as fourteen, Hamilton wrote in his correspondence on the subject, e.g. this letter to his intimate friend Edward Stevens in 1769:

…Ned, my Ambition is prevalent that I contemn the grov'ling and condition of a Clerk or the like, to which my Fortune &c. condemns me and would willingly risk my life tho' not my Character to exalt my Station. Im confident, Ned that my Youth excludes me from any hopes of immediate Preferment nor do I desire it, but I mean to prepare the way for futurity. Im no Philosopher you see and may be jusly said to Build Castles in the Air. My Folly makes me ashamd and beg youll Conceal it, yet Neddy we have seen such Schemes successfull when the Projector is Constant I shall Conclude saying I wish there was a War.

Striking naiveté and youth speaking here, especially compared to the Hamilton we’ll see in Act II.

Of course, because of the compressed timeline, by 1776 the Revolutionary War had already been underway for about a year. Hamilton doesn’t need to wish there were a war, there already is one.

Without much knowledge of each others history, these two initially bond over this shared pain and ambition. Unfortunately, they were two orphans with very different backgrounds. Sure, both Burr and Hamilton had heavy family legacies to bear, but Burr had his to live up to and Hamilton instead had his to rise above. And they’re about to find out that they have very different ideas about how to fulfill this ambition…

In reality, Hamilton’s father remained in irregular contact with him until his death in 1799. However, he had abandoned the family in the 1760s and never saw Alexander again, even after the son rose to prominence. To quote Chernow:

Father and son never entirely lost touch with each other, but a curious detachment, an estrangement as psychological as much as geographical, separated them.

This is the first of many points in the show when Alexander Hamilton raises a glass of an alcoholic beverage. In “The Story of Tonight (Reprise),” he and his friends are played as pretty drunk after his wedding, which perhaps leads to some intemperate words. However, Hamilton (whose father was an alcoholic) had a “contempt for drunkenness” and “hatred of drinking,” and certainly didn’t need alcohol to loosen his tongue.

But Hamilton wasn’t a teetotaler; at one point, for his health, his doctor limited him to consuming no more than three glasses of wine per day. So accepting a drink from Burr is perfectly within character.

“Talk less, smile more” is one of Burr’s themes throughout the play. In almost every song he’s in, he restates this ideal, and in his role as narrator, he often looks askance at Hamilton for talking and writing so damn much.

This political philosophy most closely mirrors the performative and evasive nature of modern politicians, which is part of why Burr frequently comes across as smarmy as hell.

In the staging of the show, the line also takes on additional modern political resonance. Burr and Hamilton are both played by men of color. Burr advocates “respectability politics,” whereas Hamilton repeatedly uses language associated with activists groups such as Black Lives Matter that prefer to strike directly at injustices e.g., “this is not a moment, it’s the movement” in “My Shot.”

Musically, Burr’s themes are the most purely R&B in the show. This is a reflection of the above, but it’s also a way to highlight him as a foil for Hamilton, as that character’s style is deep into the rap side of the hip hop continuum. Here, the dynamic, melodic, and lyrical aspects of the characters' lines match their personal philosophies, giving additional significance to the contrast between Hamilton’s high-word-count, rapid-fire rap style and Burr’s sinuous singing.

This is the first time Hamilton says “What?” He says this… a lot. Six times in one musical. Some of this can be read at face value: the hot-head Hamilton doesn’t often listen to others, and he’s often incredulous when he does.

It can also be read in the hip-hop sense. MCs in hip-hop use “what” as a way of amping up a song; it’s like saying “I can’t hear you” to get a crowd or rapper to be louder. Hamilton’s energy is relentlessly driving the story forward. He and the ensemble are the only people who say “what?” in this way. The singular exception is Jefferson in The Adams Administration and The Reynolds Pamphlet, which are also two of the only songs where Jefferson, rather than Hamilton, is driving the action forward.

“Talk less, smile more” is one of Burr’s themes throughout the play. In almost every song he’s in, he restates this ideal, and in his role as narrator, he often looks askance at Hamilton for talking and writing so damn much.

This political philosophy most closely mirrors the performative and evasive nature of modern politicians, which is part of why Burr frequently comes across as smarmy as hell.

In the staging of the show, the line also takes on additional modern political resonance. Burr and Hamilton are both played by men of color. Burr advocates “respectability politics,” whereas Hamilton repeatedly uses language associated with activists groups such as Black Lives Matter that prefer to strike directly at injustices e.g., “this is not a moment, it’s the movement” in “My Shot.”

Musically, Burr’s themes are the most purely R&B in the show. This is a reflection of the above, but it’s also a way to highlight him as a foil for Hamilton, as that character’s style is deep into the rap side of the hip hop continuum. Here, the dynamic, melodic, and lyrical aspects of the characters' lines match their personal philosophies, giving additional significance to the contrast between Hamilton’s high-word-count, rapid-fire rap style and Burr’s sinuous singing.

More than an expression of amusement, Hamilton’s laugh has an air of nervousness. Hamilton does not agree with Burr, but isn’t necessarily ready to tell him off. They just met and Burr is a very prominent and important person.

Unlike Burr, Hamilton’s life to this point had not lent itself to traditional notions of civility. In Hamilton’s world, you needed to speak up in order to be heard above the masses. In Burr’s world, the masses were watching and listening to every word you said. This line serves to highlight how far removed Hamilton is from the world of polite society, and how ignorant he is of its more subtle arts. Burr recognizes that Hamilton is ambitious and wants to climb that social ladder, so, as his social superior, he condescends to share his philosophy for success with Hamilton.

However, in large part due to that upbringing of Hamilton’s, the advice falls on deeply incredulous ears.

The difference in their messages is echoed in their voices: Burr, smoothly and subtly explaining high-class behavior, sings his lines in a perfect, pleasing melody, while Hamilton’s lines are toneless and plainspoken. This is quite a change from earlier in the song, when Hamilton was rapping and rhyming while Burr was speaking in short, clipped sentences.

Burr not voicing his principles will become a recurring theme and conflict in the show. It ends up being the motivating factor behind Hamilton’s endorsement of Jefferson in “The Election of 1800,” which in turn sets up their final confrontation.

With this line, Burr foreshadows the untimely death of the man who speaks the next line, John Laurens. It’s particularly significant that Laurens is the one who draws the attention away from Burr, as he was the only one of the revolutionaries depicted in this scene—other than Hamilton—who could serve to make Burr’s point. Laurens was only 27 when he died whereas Mulligan and Lafayette outlived Hamilton by 20–30 years. Burr outlived all of them (if only by a couple of years in the case of Lafayette).

But he also foreshadows the death of Laurens’s double-cast alter ego, Philip Hamilton, killed in a duel after “run[ning] his mouth off” in Blow Us All Away, and even Alexander Hamilton’s death in a duel with Burr himself after “run[ning] his mouth off” in The Election of 1800. That’s every major death in the play—a hat-trick of foreshadowing in one line!

P.S. In case you were wondering if the line is “oft wind up dead,” Lin has confirmed that it’s “off.”

On the NYC subway system, this exact intonation of “What time is it?” “SHOWTIME!” is used by [young, male] performers who are about to engage in acrobatic dancing in the middle of the moving train. This call-and-response generally strikes fear into the hearts of commuting New Yorkers, though Miranda calls them “amazing” in the Hamiltome.

The beat for the following three verses seem to be inspired by the one on “Get On the Mic” by Beastie Boys. This would make sense, seeing as how they are one of the most famous rap groups to come from NYC and this musical is heavily dedicated toward said city. The lyrics could be B-Boys inspired too, seeing as how they’re known for rapping about women, drinking, and their sweet rides.

These are also the lines that first introduce “the revolutionary set” that Hamilton will befriend, indicating the energy, hustle, and bravado with which these men carry themselves.

With this line, Burr foreshadows the untimely death of the man who speaks the next line, John Laurens. It’s particularly significant that Laurens is the one who draws the attention away from Burr, as he was the only one of the revolutionaries depicted in this scene—other than Hamilton—who could serve to make Burr’s point. Laurens was only 27 when he died whereas Mulligan and Lafayette outlived Hamilton by 20–30 years. Burr outlived all of them (if only by a couple of years in the case of Lafayette).

But he also foreshadows the death of Laurens’s double-cast alter ego, Philip Hamilton, killed in a duel after “run[ning] his mouth off” in Blow Us All Away, and even Alexander Hamilton’s death in a duel with Burr himself after “run[ning] his mouth off” in The Election of 1800. That’s every major death in the play—a hat-trick of foreshadowing in one line!

P.S. In case you were wondering if the line is “oft wind up dead,” Lin has confirmed that it’s “off.”

Original Laurens and Ramos as Laurens

The original casting call for Laurens:

JOHN LAURENS/PHILIP HAMILTON: Tenor, must be able to sing and rap well. LAURENS is an ardent young abolitionist and idealist, born into privilege, joining the Revolution. Hamilton’s loyal best friend. Nas meets Elder Price.

In the original Broadway cast, John Laurens was played by Anthony Ramos.

Until Burr rebuffs them, the three actors portraying Laurens, Lafayette and Mulligan beatbox for one another, and bang on a table to create drum effects.

In an interview at the 86th Street Barnes & Noble for the release of the cast album, Lin-Manuel Miranda pointed out that the table drumming almost didn’t make it into the recording. Producer Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson came through with the assist, providing the drumming sounds on his desk. His invaluable performance, as well as his desk’s, are specially credited in the liner notes of the album:

John Laurens was an aide-de-camp to General George Washington during the Revolutionary War. He became very good friends with his fellow aides-de-camp, Alexander Hamilton and Marquis de Lafayette. Laurens fought valiantly at the Battle of Brandywine, Battle of Germantown, Battle of Monmouth, and Battle of the Combahee River where (spoiler!) he was killed.

John Laurens and his friends begin rapping in an old-school style that contrasts dramatically with Hamilton’s complex, modern rap in “My Shot”.

Lin-Manuel Miranda described Lauren’s rap style in his 60 Minutes interview:

[Laurens starts off with] like, 80s raps—great raps but super-beginner raps. We all did a version of that when we were in the 80s. “I’m Lin Miranda in the place to be…“ Then comes Hamilton: it’s rhyming six rhymes on a line, it’s insane polysyllabic internal assonance. He needs to be like from the future.

“In the place to be” appears to be a nod to Slick Rick’s intro in “La Di Da Di”:

MC Ricky D, D and that’s me in the place to be

Anachronistic word play, considering Samuel Adams, for which the famous beer (est 1984) is named, was alive at the time and conspiring with the Sons of Liberty to stage and publicize protests in Boston and throughout the Colonies against the British government. They were particularly opposed to Parliament’s practice of taxation without representation.

Historically, he was an amateur maltster, though he is popularly remembered as a brewer, which is why the Boston Beer Company named their brand after him.

However, Laurens, was given an account of remarkable good character from George Washington in a 1785 letter:

You ask if the character of Colo. John Lawrens, as drawn in the Independant Chronicle of the 2d of Decr last, is just. I answer, that such parts of the drawing as have fallen under my own observation is literally so; & that it is my firm belief his merits & worth richly entitle him to the whole picture: no man possessed more of the amor patria—in a word, he had not a fault that I ever could discover, unless intripidity bordering upon rashness, could come under that denomination; & to this he was excited by the purest motives.

Sam Adams later urged his cousin John to join the Massachussetts delegation to the First Continental Congress, beginning the political career of the latter that ultimately lead to the presidency. His son, John Quincy Adams, also held the presidential office, thus Laurens' remark that he’s “working on three” may be in reference to these three famous Adamses.

A gleefully full-on blending of 18C and 21C contexts is at work here. Historically, Laurens is saying that he will fight in the revolution to stop the tyranny of the British and the imposition of their soldiers, the Redcoats.

However, another modern context comes out of Miranda’s use of hip hop vernacular. The phrase “pop chick-a-pop” in particular recalls 2Pac’s lyric in “Soldier Like Me”, “poppin' at corrupt cops.”

The anachronistic use of the term ‘cop,’ which did not exist at the time, has a very purposeful meaning. The police force of modern day has become notorious for using force on unarmed black and Hispanic men and have accordingly been depicted by recent media as cruel and corrupt. Such is the connection in people’s minds that the word “cops” instantly evokes backwardness—we’re supposed to fall back on them, but they’re bad guys, too! What do we do? In Hamilton, we rebel. Now we know from one easy couplet that British=bad and Colonists=good. Not that the audience didn’t see that coming, but now it’s more visceral. We have an association that makes the whole thing matter more, and we also get a better look into a brand new character.

And to top it all off, the subtle backwardness motif concludes in “Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)” with the line, “Til' the world turns upside down.” As we build more of America, more structures come into place, and it begins with flipping the current power dynamic on its head. Everything else is, well, history.

Original Lafayette and Diggs as Lafayette

The original casting call for Lafayette:

MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE/THOMAS JEFFERSON: Tenor-baritone, must be able to sing and rap well. LAFAYETTE is an earnest, idealistic Frenchman who reveals himself to be a superb military commander/rapper. Think Lancelot meets Ludacris.

In the original Broadway cast, Lafayette was played by Daveed Diggs, who raps so well that Lin made the part harder for him.

Translation: “Yes yes, my friend, my name is Lafayette!”

Full birth name: Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Marquis de La Fayette, which is quite a mouthful, and may explain why he introduces himself by his title only. He joked that his name included every saint who could possibly protect him in war. Also, let’s be honest, Gilbert is the kind of name that’ll get you bullied on the battlefield.

He became the ace of the Continental Army during the American Revolution by distinguishing himself in multiple battles and liaising directly with France to arrange for equipment, funds, and troops. He was passionate about the American cause, and after the war, helped start the French Revolution, too. Funny, considering that Lafayette’s forebears had a history of dying in combat, including his father, and he himself said that “the family’s misfortunes in war became a kind of proverb throughout the province.”

Translation: “It’s me!”

Miranda has confirmed that he’s referencing the musical Camelot, which introduces Lancelot, the French-born Knight of the Round Table, in a song titled “C'est Moi.” Some choice lyrics:

I’ve never lost
In battle or game
I’m simply the best by far
When swords are cross’d
‘Tis always the same
One blow and au revoir
C'est moi!

An additional layer of meaning can be read into the Lancelot sobriquet, given Lancelot’s role in Arthurian Legend. In Camelot, as in many other versions of the Arthurian Legend, Lancelot ends up betraying King Arthur by having an affair with Guinevere. In Hamilton, Lafayette’s actor (Daveed Diggs) doubles as Jefferson in the second act. The man who we saw previously act as one of Hamilton’s greatest friends and supporters goes on to betray that image and becomes one of Alexander’s greatest enemies and detractors.

Miranda frequently mentions the Camelot cast album when discussing his childhood influences; it was one of his favorites from his parents' collection of cast albums growing up.

This comparison of Lafayette to Lancelot is made again by Hamilton on the following song, “My Shot”:

Burr, check what we got
Mister Lafayette, hard rock like Lancelot
I think your pants look hot

Lafayette actually had quite an eventful time of it getting to America. His military regiment had been essentially reorganized out of existence thanks to government spending cuts, and he had little hope of advancement. At this crucial moment, he was approached by an American representative trying to drum up support for the cause. He was moved.

My heart was enlisted, and I thought only of joining my colors to those of the revolutionaries.

The king of France tried to forbid Lafayette to go, but Lafayette was determined.

When the King learned that La Fayette was secretly on his way south to find transport to America, he issued a warrant for his arrest. But La Fayette escaped to Spain, and was soon aboard the Victoire—his own ship, purchased for the purpose—and sailing to America.

Keeping on in the theme of Lancelot’s “C'est Moi”—“Camelot, Camelot / In far-off France I heard your call / Camelot, Camelot / And here am I to give my all!”

Translation: “Good evening”

Lafayette was a French aristocrat and military officer. He came to America in 1777, and was initially met with a somewhat stony reception, until he sent a letter to Congress asking for two “favors”:

one is, to serve at my own expense; the other is, to serve at first as a volunteer.

As Sarah Vowell puts it in her humorous biography Lafayette in the Somewhat United States, “he was basically an unpaid intern wearing a general’s sash.” Since other European military officers had come to the Colonies demanding high ranks and pay that the Americans couldn’t afford, they were happy to have Lafayette who brought real connection to the French throne and paid for himself.

Translation: “Beat it!” “Get lost!” Colloquially, it conveys the same level of aggression as, say, ‘fuck off!’

Adding insult to injury, in saying “Casse-toi” rather than “Cassez-vous,” Lafayette is using the more informal conjugation typically reserved for friends and peers, rather than the “vous” form that you’d use to show respect for your king.

The phrase acquired a bit of diplomatic infamy in the late ‘00s, after then–French President Nicolas Sarkozy was caught on film saying it in response a member of the public who stridently refused to shake his hand. The controversy spread globally, compounded by the fact that many languages’ conversational equivalents of the phrase involve vulgarities.

Translation: “It’s me!”

Miranda has confirmed that he’s referencing the musical Camelot, which introduces Lancelot, the French-born Knight of the Round Table, in a song titled “C'est Moi.” Some choice lyrics:

I’ve never lost
In battle or game
I’m simply the best by far
When swords are cross’d
‘Tis always the same
One blow and au revoir
C'est moi!

An additional layer of meaning can be read into the Lancelot sobriquet, given Lancelot’s role in Arthurian Legend. In Camelot, as in many other versions of the Arthurian Legend, Lancelot ends up betraying King Arthur by having an affair with Guinevere. In Hamilton, Lafayette’s actor (Daveed Diggs) doubles as Jefferson in the second act. The man who we saw previously act as one of Hamilton’s greatest friends and supporters goes on to betray that image and becomes one of Alexander’s greatest enemies and detractors.

Miranda frequently mentions the Camelot cast album when discussing his childhood influences; it was one of his favorites from his parents' collection of cast albums growing up.

This comparison of Lafayette to Lancelot is made again by Hamilton on the following song, “My Shot”:

Burr, check what we got
Mister Lafayette, hard rock like Lancelot
I think your pants look hot

The original casting notice for Mulligan:

HERCULES MULLIGAN/JAMES MADISON (dual role): Tenor/baritone, MUST be able to sing and rap well. MULLIGAN is the life of the party, dripping with swagger, streetwise and hilarious. Joins the revolution to get out of being a tailor’s apprentice, and befriends Laurens, Hamilton and Lafayette. Busta Rhymes meets Donald O’Connor.

In the original Broadway cast, Hercules Mulligan was played by Okieriete Onaodowan.

Mulligan’s rap style is based on Busta Rhymes.

“It just sounds dope!”

Hercules Mulligan was an Irish immigrant who provided Hamilton with lodging for and assistance in gaining admission to King’s College (now Columbia University). Hamilton’s stay with Mulligan—a member of the Sons of Liberty—is credited with convincing Hamilton to side with the colonists in the brewing revolution. During the war, Hamilton returned the favor by engaging Mulligan and his associates to spy on the British military.

Lin-Manuel Miranda offers an interesting anachronism here. The opening of the song clearly states that “Aaron Burr, Sir” takes place in 1776; however, by 1776, Hercules Mulligan and Alexander had already known each other for almost 4 years. The end of the song has Lafayette, Laurens, and Mulligan all asking “Who are you?”, as if they hadn’t met him, even though Mulligan and Hamilton would have been very well acquainted at this point in history.

On the other hand, they did meet very soon after Hamilton’s arrival in New York (Mulligan’s brother worked with a trading company in NYC that was close with Hamilton’s in the West Indies, and Hercules was one of his closest connections in his early years in America), so in that sense, he’s probably the most historically accurate introduction taking place in this song.

“Up in it” could refer to Mulligan’s aggressive style being ‘up in your face,’ or it could refer to his work as a spy who is ‘up in everyone’s business,’ or it could mean ‘all up it that,’ i.e. gettin' some. Any way, he’s into it.

It may also be a reference to Big Punisher’s “I’m Not A Player”:

I’m just showin you how this rapper do
Capital Punishment, when I’m up in it, suckin it
Bustin it out, nice blouse, let me unbutton it

Some interesting wordplay here:

“Come again” usually means to repeat what was just said. Furthermore, a mulligan is a golf term that means to replay a shot. And then there’s the raunchier definition of come…

Beyond being innuendo, “I heard your mother said” is a braggadocious way to foreshadow Mulligan’s role as a spy, relaying things he’s overheard to Washington.

And, of course, it’s a “your mom” joke.

This exchange (aside from being a hilarious tale of Hercules Mulligan sleeping with yo momma) helps convey that Mulligan—a tailor—is of the working class, while Laurens and Lafayette are aristocrats.

While Laurens and Lafayette crow about how great they are and the things they plan to achieve, Mulligan falls back on the old standard of boasting about his sexual prowess. …with horses?

Historically, he definitely does not fuck horses; however, I thought this was a pretty funny line.

I always think of the line in the “¡Three Amigos!” where Chevy Chase is with all these Mexican gang members and goes: “And we’ll rape the horses.”

It probably came from “¡Three Amigos!” in my brain.

These two lines are 100% coarse dude humor, but you don’t care because there is a sick DOUBLE COMPOUND RHYME happening: As performed, “horses, of course / It’s” rhymes perfectly with itself AND “four sets of corsets,” which ALSO rhymes itself. Is it even internal anymore when it’s the five syllables abutting both line breaks?

That “intercourse” in the middle there even mirrors the consonance and assonance of the rhyme, like literally reflects it backwards (cors-it becomes int-cors). Sweet Jesus.

Laurens throws in his own “no more sex” to turn the scheme around to better topics, i.e. THE REVOLUTION. Coming from Laurens, the phrase may also be a regretful nod to fans of the theory that Hamilton and Laurens had a romantic relationship, and who might have hoped that it would be depicted at least in brief in Hamilton. Alas, Laurens gets no more sex—in fact, no sex at all, with anyone; he married an Englishwoman in 1777 but there’s no reference to her in the show—in this version of the story.

One of many verses in which Miranda is playing around, showing how much fun he can have with the words, while staying well within the given structure of the song (and, of course, telling a story).

These lines echo Notorious BIG’s “Just Playing” in both content and cadence:

Hold your horses, I'mma show ya who the boss of intercourse is.

“Lock Up Your Daughters” is also the name of a 1959 musical based on an 18th century play about sex and politics and corruption.

Lafayette reacts both to Mulligan’s dirty jokes and the complexity of his quintuple rhyme, which, while relatively simple compared to Hamilton’s upcoming wordplay, is much more advanced than anything attempted by Laurens or Lafayette in this song.

Historically, he definitely does not fuck horses; however, I thought this was a pretty funny line.

I always think of the line in the “¡Three Amigos!” where Chevy Chase is with all these Mexican gang members and goes: “And we’ll rape the horses.”

It probably came from “¡Three Amigos!” in my brain.

These two lines are 100% coarse dude humor, but you don’t care because there is a sick DOUBLE COMPOUND RHYME happening: As performed, “horses, of course / It’s” rhymes perfectly with itself AND “four sets of corsets,” which ALSO rhymes itself. Is it even internal anymore when it’s the five syllables abutting both line breaks?

That “intercourse” in the middle there even mirrors the consonance and assonance of the rhyme, like literally reflects it backwards (cors-it becomes int-cors). Sweet Jesus.

Laurens throws in his own “no more sex” to turn the scheme around to better topics, i.e. THE REVOLUTION. Coming from Laurens, the phrase may also be a regretful nod to fans of the theory that Hamilton and Laurens had a romantic relationship, and who might have hoped that it would be depicted at least in brief in Hamilton. Alas, Laurens gets no more sex—in fact, no sex at all, with anyone; he married an Englishwoman in 1777 but there’s no reference to her in the show—in this version of the story.

One of many verses in which Miranda is playing around, showing how much fun he can have with the words, while staying well within the given structure of the song (and, of course, telling a story).

These lines echo Notorious BIG’s “Just Playing” in both content and cadence:

Hold your horses, I'mma show ya who the boss of intercourse is.

“Lock Up Your Daughters” is also the name of a 1959 musical based on an 18th century play about sex and politics and corruption.

John Laurens was historically known to sit around in bars and drink many pints a day; he had a marked lack of interest in women, and of course publicly showing interest in men would not have been possible at the time.

When he met Alexander Hamilton later on, he began to stop drinking as much, so this lyric is a tad ironic considering that Laurens is singing with Hamilton, Lafayette, and Mulligan.

The only people in this song that Hamilton would have actually known at this time were Hercules Mulligan and possibly Aaron Burr. It is likely that Hamilton met Aaron Burr, but there is no concrete evidence of that until later. Hercules Mulligan was Hamilton’s first friend in America, but at this time, Laurens and Lafayette were both still in Europe. Laurens was studying in London and didn’t return to America until 1777 to join the Continental Army. Lafayette was in France and didn’t sign up to go to America until December of 1776. So while the revolution would bring together this incredible group of friends, it wouldn’t be for another couple months, at least.

The real story: Burr applied to Princeton at 11, and though his scholarship was good, he was rejected because the trustees thought he might be too young for the school. Burr, undeterred, studied independently for two years and then reapplied at 13 for the JUNIOR CLASS, the li'l shit. The school compromised and allowed him to enter as a sophomore. Burr was admitted to Princeton at age 13, and graduated at age 16.

Hashtag check in with Chernow.

In the context of the show, this will be the first time we see Hamilton wishing to switch places or replicate something Burr has done, and we see it again in “The Story of Tonight (Reprise).” Of course, by Act II the roles are completely reversed.

Now seems like as good a time as any to point out that a whole lot of characters in this show have dactylic names: Hamilton, Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Lafayette… Hercules Mulligan gets two!

And whose name alone is an anapest—the opposite of a dactyl, also called an antidactylus? Aaron Burr.

18th century language and modern slang are at play here.

First, the modern, “give us a [freestyle] verse [of rap], drop some knowledge [beat the rest of our verses with your superior flow].” It could also be seen as a fourth wall break, in which Laurens is literally asking Burr to “drop a verse” into the song.

Then, the contemporary, “give us a verse [of poetry/verse rhyme], drop some knowledge [lecture or debate with us about our political principles].” (Verse rhyme competitions were actually a common party game and newspaper competition subject used to pass the time among educated people. Hamilton himself wrote and published some poetry while he was still in St. Croix.)

These incidental double meanings are used liberally throughout the show to conflate the periods in the minds of the audience, helping them to identify these great thinkers of 200 years ago as the innovative freestylers that they actually were in terms of verbal dexterity, quantitative output, and social impact. Furthermore, the fact that much of the modern slang is black culture influenced helps to establish the show’s purpose as a critical race text.

There’s a double meaning of spitting and seeing where one lands. “Spit” refers to Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette spitting verses. But it could also be a derisive comment on their behavior (spitting being seen as vulgar and them thoughtlessly running their mouths). Seeing where one’s spit lands can be reference to who wins in such a competition, the furthest spitter winning. Burr implies he will land further, figuratively, in politics and in the new nation, by sitting out while they brashly spit.

Burr is squashing their fun, refusing to participate in their rap, and Lafayette and Mulligan don’t like it.

Although this is an excellent introduction of Burr’s theme of caution in the musical, historically it is not a fair description of Burr’s actions. As mentioned in “Right Hand Man,” Burr signed up for the Continental Army in 1775, and was with Montgomery in the Invasion of Canada. By 1776, he was back in the New York area as a commissioned officer while Laurens and Lafayette were still twiddling their thumbs in Europe.

The beatboxing cuts out when Hamilton begins to rap. This is to show Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan’s surprise when this new guy joins in.

“Those who stand for nothing fall for anything” is a popular saying that has been misattributed to Alexander Hamilton, possibly because “Oxford Essential Quotations” credited another fellow named Alex Hamilton as saying it on the radio.

This line is almost the inverse of that quotation though. Hamilton is young and just on the edge of idealistic—like many people of that age, he’s looking for a noble cause: one he could give his life for.

Although possibly coincidental, the phrasing here seems like an homage to “Tevye’s Dream” from Fiddler on the Roof when Fruma Sarah arrives: “Look, who is this, who is this, who comes here / Who, who, who, who.” The answer in Fiddler is somewhat more frightening…

Hamilton claimed to be 15 when he arrived at the colonies, but his birth documents suggest he was actually 17. Chernow speculates that he began lying about his age when he entered King’s College to avoid being considered much older than the other students.