Stay Alive

Stay Alive is a mere two songs before That Would Be Enough, the song where Eliza announces her pregnancy to Hamilton, as well as the fact that Washington had known for months already. In such a fast paced musical like Hamilton just two songs can go by in a snap.

Speaking in the sense of the musical’s chronology, Eliza singing “Stay alive” upstage of the action is her quietly begging Hamilton to stay alive long to meet his first child before both he and the audience knows she is pregnant.

Immediately after singing this line, a bullet sound effect is heard. On stage, a British soldier shoots, and an actor from the ensemble holds her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart and travels from a gun. She’s portraying a bullet. Her pinching fingers miss Hamilton as he is working at his desk. He stays alive, for now.

https://twitter.com/DavidKorins/status/619960731933507584

This same actor also plays The Bullet during the soliloquy in “The World Was Wide Enough,” where she fires from Burr’s gun and finds her target in Hamilton.

Angelica and the female ensemble join in here, indicating both that Angelica is also worried about Hamilton and that the message is aimed not only at Hamilton but at all of the soldiers.

I wrote a song called “Valley Forge” that never made it into the show which was about that woman that was dying in Valley Forge; nonetheless, those lines made it into “Stay Alive.”

An early demo of “Valley Forge” has since been released on The Hamilton Mixtape. Though this early version had a much bleaker tone, many of the lyrics from the short song made it into “Stay Alive”:

• “I have never seen his excellency so despondent…”
• “I shoot back we have resorted to eating our horses”
• Hamilton and Washington’s “outrun/outlast” exchange (with the new addition of “chick-a-plao!”)

Here’s an example of Washington’s despondency that Hamilton would not have seen: a letter he sent to Joseph Reed in January 1776, the year before he hired Hamilton:

The reflection upon my Situation, & that of this Army, produces many an uneasy hour when all around me are wrapped in Sleep. Few People know the Predicament we are In, on a thousand Accts—fewer still will beleive, if any disaster happens to these Lines, from what causes it flows—I have often thought, how much happier I should have been, if, instead of accepting of a command under such Circumstances I had taken my Musket upon my Shoulder & enterd the Ranks, or, if I could have justified the Measure to Posterity, & my own Conscience, had retir’d to the back Country, & livd in a Wig-wam […]

Valley Forge was by far the darkest moment for the entire Continental Army, but it was also a precarious moment for General George Washington, personally. Having allowed the British to erect strongholds in both New York and Philadelphia due to his policy of avoiding open warfare with the bigger and better British forces, Congress was terrified and out for his blood. They enacted all sorts of schemes to try to get him moved out of power, many of which Washington only narrowly avoided.

Laurens' father stopped an “anonymous” pamphlet from being put to Congress for debate, saying contemptuously as he took it away that it was better meant for the fire. After accusations of poor management and indecisiveness, Hamilton “helped” him “draft” a letter outlining the exact and dire needs of the Army. It was 16,000 words long. (Oh, Hamilton.)

Congress openly sent representatives to Valley Forge to find some reason for his removal, but this backfired spectacularly. One man surprised Washington in the night when they were both out for a walk. George Washington solemnly and candidly told him,

“Mr. Dana—Congress does not trust me. I cannot go on thus.”

For a moment the stunned Dana could say nothing. Then he blurted words that leaped involuntarily to his lips. He told Washington that most of Congress still trusted him—and that included Delegate Francis Dana. Many years later, the congressman told his son that this was the proudest moment of his life.

Valley Forge was by far the darkest moment for the entire Continental Army, but it was also a precarious moment for General George Washington, personally. Having allowed the British to erect strongholds in both New York and Philadelphia due to his policy of avoiding open warfare with the bigger and better British forces, Congress was terrified and out for his blood. They enacted all sorts of schemes to try to get him moved out of power, many of which Washington only narrowly avoided.

Laurens' father stopped an “anonymous” pamphlet from being put to Congress for debate, saying contemptuously as he took it away that it was better meant for the fire. After accusations of poor management and indecisiveness, Hamilton “helped” him “draft” a letter outlining the exact and dire needs of the Army. It was 16,000 words long. (Oh, Hamilton.)

Congress openly sent representatives to Valley Forge to find some reason for his removal, but this backfired spectacularly. One man surprised Washington in the night when they were both out for a walk. George Washington solemnly and candidly told him,

“Mr. Dana—Congress does not trust me. I cannot go on thus.”

For a moment the stunned Dana could say nothing. Then he blurted words that leaped involuntarily to his lips. He told Washington that most of Congress still trusted him—and that included Delegate Francis Dana. Many years later, the congressman told his son that this was the proudest moment of his life.

Hamilton, always quick to “shoot off at the mouth,” here with his wording makes it seem as if the Patriots were at war both with the British and with each other. If there was ever a point in the Revolution in which that might have been true, this is probably it.

By 1780, conditions for soldiers were reprehensible. Eating the horses that had starved to death was not even the worst privation.

From a soldier’s memoir:

We are absolutely, literally starved. I do solemnly declare that I did not put a single morsel of victuals into my mouth for four days and as many nights, except for a little black birch bark which I gnawed off a stick of wood. I saw several men roast their old shoes and eat them, and I was afterward informed by one of the officer’s waiters, that some of the officers killed a favorite little dog that belonged to one of them.

When Congress declared independence from England and began the Revolutionary War, they were already printing their own currency (known as Continental Currency), and this was what was provided to the army to purchase supplies with which to fight the British. During the Revolution, Congress issued $241,552,780 in their new money.

Unsurprisingly for currency of a brand-spankin' new country printed fast and in quantity, the value of the so-called Continental dollar depreciated rapidly. By 1780, it was worth 1/40th of face value, and not even the merchants and tradesmen who supported the Revolution could accept American bills.

This worked out well for the British, whose currency was still relatively stable in America. The Continental Army was crippled by lack of funds, and theirs still able to trade freely. The little scamps even mass-circulated counterfeit Continentals, muddying the market even further.

No doubt this kept the financially-minded Hamilton up at night.

Sixpence was a unit of English currency, and “Sing A Song of Sixpence” a popular English nursery rhyme. Combine the two together and we get a cheeky way for Hamilton to tell Congress to show him the money.

The phrase the cavalry’s coming has come to mean that last minute back-up will arrive and save our heroes. Here Washington flatly states that for the Revolutionaries it is not coming from Congress, perhaps foreshadowing that the Americans will depend on foreign intervention.

This line may also refer specifically to Washington’s request that General Horatio Gates send troops to Washington. Though Gates had just won the Battle of Saratoga, and could in theory, spare some troops he initially refused.

Washington sent Hamilton to Gates to plead for more troops. As Chernow puts it;

If there was a single moment during the Revolution when its outcome hinged on spontaneous decisions made by Alexander Hamilton, this was it.

Irritated, Gates offered only a single brigade, which Hamilton recognized to be the least disciplined of them all. In what Chernow calls a bravura performance, Hamilton somehow got two brigades out of Gates.

However, Gates would thereafter despise Hamilton and became part of the Conway Cabal referenced below.

This is one of only a few instances in the show of someone addressing Hamilton as “Alex,” and is the first time someone directly addresses him with the nickname. Washington’s informality here indicates his paternal affections for Hamilton as a surrogate son, as expressed elsewhere.

Outright puns on “out write.” Hamilton was famous for the speed and force of his writing talent. As George Washington’s aide, he was responsible for “writing all his correspondence.” Not only do Washington and Hamilton have to “outrun,” “outlast,” and “outfight” the British, they have to “outwrite” them as well.

Hamilton was pretty good at provoking outrage with his writing anyway, so in more ways than one, Washington is putting Hamilton’s propensities to use.

Additionally, this line continues Washington’s “out____” theme.

After the disastrous campaign in New York (sung about in “Right Hand Man,”), Washington realized that his army would never be able to defeat the better trained and equipped British troops in an open battle.

Instead, he decided to engage in small, quick raids to harry the British and prolong the war until Parliament decided the cost of fighting a war halfway across the world wasn’t worth it.

This was viewed as rather rude. A British soldier wrote in 1775:

“Never had the British army so ungenerous an enemy to oppose; they send their riflemen, five or six at a time, who conceal themselves behind trees, etc., till an opportunity presents itself of taking a shot at our advanced sentries, which done they immediately retreat. What an unfair method of carrying on a war!”

Furthermore, this strategy was used heavily in the Civil War by the Confederacy:

“It was believed that, like George Washington’s forces during the American Revolution, Southerners could lose most of the battles and still win the war, but only if they could convince their opponent that victory was too costly.”

Two centuries later, the same tactics worked—and continue to work—against the U.S. in Vietnam and Afghanistan.

In the modern day, this strategy is called guerrilla warfare, though it dates back to Roman times at least. It was famously employed when Fabius defeated Carthage, originating another term for it, the Fabian strategy. Washington is sometimes called “American Fabius” on coins and tokens because of his use of this tactic.

This calls back to Washington’s panicked chorus of “Outgunned / Outmanned / Outnumbered / Outplanned” in “Right Hand Man.”

These lines, spoken with a certain amount of foreboding/determination, are their plan for success, whereas the lines in “Right Hand Man” were their reasons for fear.

These lines also reflect the father-son like relationship between Washington and Hamilton as Hamilton echoes Washington’s words.

Washington organized a number of quick raids to keep the British from advancing and score tactical victories. By far the most famous was crossing the Delaware River to engage Hessian mercenary forces in Trenton.

These quick raids grabbed badly needed supplies for the Army, as well as providing a major morale boost. Given his inferior numbers and materiel, it was a major shock when Washington was able to capture well trained and expensive mercenaries.

A favorite line of Lin’s, explained in his book Hamilton: The Revolution (p. 97):

Probably a subconscious nod to all the rigatigatum and cracko-jacko in West Side Story, though if I’m being honest, I hear it in Method Man’s voice, in that one Wu-Tang skit where they’re just talking about how they’re going to beat each other up. ‘And bang them sh*ts with a spiked bat like blao.’

As in, the death toll will be large and we will be lowering flags all over the Colonies to honor their sacrifices.

It’s been said that the Continental Army didn’t so much win the war as not lose it. A small and starving army hung on for 8 years with hardly more than their skin and bones and brains to sustain them. They really did outrun and outlast the British, but at great cost to themselves.

Hamilton and his “Story of Tonight” friends in George Washington’s war family reprise their motif in a grave monotone. Instead of raising a glass to one another, they’re raising a glass to their fallen comrades. After all, with every tomorrow, there was inevitably more of them.

In reality, Hercules Mulligan was not part of the Continental Army. He would’ve been in or around New York City this entire time, working as a tailor. However, narratively, this line serves establish the character’s whereabouts for the next five songs, laying the groundwork for his eventual triumphant reappearance in “Yorktown.”

America really owes a debt of honor to General Lafayette. He basically papered the French leadership for ships, troops, and supplies. Harlow Giles Unger describes a letter from January 25, 1780:

Lafayette proposed sending a fleet of “six ships of 64 and 50 guns, 8,000 tons of transport ships… four full-strength battalions [about 4,000 men] to which their grenadiers would be attached… I will tell you frankly that we are losing precious time, and that military preparations should have already begun.”

When speaking to his father on the right of liberty:

We have sunk the Africans & their descendants below the Standard of Humanity, and almost render’d them incapable of that Blessing which equal Heaven bestow’d upon us all.

It was during the war that Laurens really got to work on his idea for black battalions manned by slaves in exchange for their freedom. The scheme would help to augment the bedraggled and overstretched Continental forces, while also opening up opportunities for the slaves, helping them prove that black men were capable of living not only productive, but courageous lives as free men:

The raising of black battalions would … advance those who are unjustly deprived of the Rights of Mankind [and] … reinforce the Defenders of Liberty with a number of gallant soldiers.

He and Hamilton wrote and argued tirelessly on the subject, but though Laurens had a sympathetic ear in the Continental Congress—his father was its President for a time, and Laurens got his proposal approved there—he was stymied by the Southern Colonies' contemptuous dismissal of the scheme.

Laurens was undeterred, and personally visited the South many times to try to change their minds.

I will do as much as I can in my time & leave the rest to a better hand. I perceive the work before me is great.

As Laurens' work to establish a black battalion moved forward, Congress promoted him to Lieutenant-Colonel, a commission which vaulted him above his fellow aides-de-camp, particularly the ambitious and already frustrated Hamilton. However, he wrote to Laurens:

This carries with it an air of preference, which, though we can all truly say, we love your character and admire your military merit, cannot fail to give some of us uneasy sensations. But in this, my dear J I wish you to understand me well. The blame, if there is any, falls wholly upon Congress. I repeat it, your conduct has been perfectly right and even laudable; you rejected the offer when you ought to have rejected it; and you accepted it when you ought to have accepted it; and let me add with a degree of overscrupulous delicacy. It was necessary to your project; your project was the public good; and I should have done the same. In hesistating, you have refined upon the refinements of generosity.

Both Hamilton and Laurens were considered military firebrands with a definite streak of recklessness. Hamilton earned himself the nickname of the ‘Little Lion.’ Lafayette once remarked of Laurens:

It was not his fault that he was not killed or wounded[,] he did everything that was necessary to procure one or t’other.

One of Washington’s Generals, Major General Nathanael Greene came up this this idea to cut the lines of supply, in order to raise costs for the British and strand their troops.

It is now generally accepted that the Revolutionary war was won because of the ability for the American army to use their knowledge of the geography and landscape to their advantage.

The guerrilla tactics that Americans had learned during Indian wars proved very effective in fighting the British army. Militia men struck quickly, often from behind trees or fences, then disappeared into the forests. Because many Americans wore ordinary clothing, it was difficult for the British to distinguish rebels and loyalists.

By carefully selecting the venues for battles, and using small groups of troops (as opposed to the British line formations), the new Americans were able to outwit the British in unfamiliar terrain. This was a lesson learned from fighting the Indians, who used this approach.

Hamilton was desperate for a command, and eventually in 1781 finally insisted that he would offer his commission (meaning, he would resign) if not given one.

From a letter written by Hamilton to Eliza on July 10, 1781:

“Finding when I came here that nothing was said on the subject of a command, I wrote the General a letter and enclosed him my commission. This morning Tilghman came to me in his name, pressed me to retain my commission, with an assurance that he would endeavor by all means to give me a command nearly such as I could have desired in the present circumstances of the army.”

In reality, Washington finally gave Hamilton command of a light infantry battalion after that threat of resignation.

To Hamilton, it seems out of hand, but Washington is trying to protect him. Perhaps at this point he has already received Eliza’s letter begging Washington not to send Hamilton to war because she is pregnant.

The placement of this lyric under Hamilton explaining how Washington denies him a promotion is obviously intentional. It’s the only other time Eliza/Angelica sing the line, aside from the first two lines of the song. Presumably Eliza has already written to Washington.

By refusing to place Hamilton in a combative role, Washington is keeping him alive.

Charles Lee was a career military man who served all over Europe and the early American colonies. He had expected to be named Commander in Chief of the Continental Army and apparently felt slighted that the less-experienced Washington was chosen instead. He had a history of insulting Washington, calling him “most damnably deficient” to Horatio Gates as early as 1776. He spent 16 months in British captivity in New York City. His time there convinced him the Americans could never beat the British. So he tried to help the British begin peace negotiations. When Congress refused to go along with these, Lee went so far as to give British General Howe advice on beating Washington. He was freed in April of 1778, and reluctantly rejoined the Continental Army. He’s not the choice most of us would have gone with.

Charles Lee was the second-highest ranking officer in the Continental Army since 1775, although Washington and Lee did not trust one another. The “promotion” mentioned here is a reference to Lee being reinstated after being captured by the British. The prisoner exchange took place in May 1778. The Battle of Monmouth–which took place in June of that same year–was his first battle after turning to the American cause.

Lee is, as Miranda states in this tweet is “an almost hilariously sh*tty general.” https://twitter.com/Lin_Manuel/status/682265575712800770 Lee continues to throw a temper tantrum and badmouth Washington. The juxtaposition of “I’m a General…Wheee” is interesting because that is how a big baby would say “I’m General Lee.” (Lee is a big baby)

Charles Lee was a career military man who served all over Europe and the early American colonies. He had expected to be named Commander in Chief of the Continental Army and apparently felt slighted that the less-experienced Washington was chosen instead. He had a history of insulting Washington, calling him “most damnably deficient” to Horatio Gates as early as 1776. He spent 16 months in British captivity in New York City. His time there convinced him the Americans could never beat the British. So he tried to help the British begin peace negotiations. When Congress refused to go along with these, Lee went so far as to give British General Howe advice on beating Washington. He was freed in April of 1778, and reluctantly rejoined the Continental Army. He’s not the choice most of us would have gone with.

Charles Lee was a career military man who served all over Europe and the early American colonies. He had expected to be named Commander in Chief of the Continental Army and apparently felt slighted that the less-experienced Washington was chosen instead. He had a history of insulting Washington, calling him “most damnably deficient” to Horatio Gates as early as 1776. He spent 16 months in British captivity in New York City. His time there convinced him the Americans could never beat the British. So he tried to help the British begin peace negotiations. When Congress refused to go along with these, Lee went so far as to give British General Howe advice on beating Washington. He was freed in April of 1778, and reluctantly rejoined the Continental Army. He’s not the choice most of us would have gone with.

Slang Dictionary defines this idiom as “to royally screw up.” No shit, son.

This isn’t the last time somebody will use this phrase. Apparently, Lin-Manuel Miranda likes it!

Historically, the Battle of Monmouth took place on June 28, 1778, in Freehold, New Jersey. Washington’s troops faced off with those of General Henry Clinton. Washington’s plan was to split up the troops and harass British troops from the left and right. Lee was in charge of the advance force.

Chernow notes that Lee was supposed to take on the British rear guard. But Chernow continues:

Hamilton was sent ahead by Washington to scout Lee’s movements, and he was stunned by the tumult he found: far from engaging the enemy, as directed, Lee’s men were in a full-blown retreat. Not a word of this had been communicated to Washington. Hamilton rode up to Lee and shouted, “I will stay here with you, my dear general, and die with you! Let us all die rather than retreat!”

According to Chernow, here’s what really happened:

When Washington got wind of the chaotic flight of his troops, he galloped up to Lee, glowered at him, and demanded, “What is the meaning of this, sir? I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and confusion!”
 
Lee took umbrage at the peremptory tone. “The American troops would not stand the British bayonets,” he replied.
 
To which Washington retorted, “You damned poltroon, you never tried them!” Washington did not ordinarily use profanities, but, faced with Lee’s insubordination that morning, he swore “till the leaves shook on the trees,” said one general.

This plays off of Hamilton’s desire to be in command. Miranda sets it up so that it seems as though Washington will have Hamilton take over for Lee, thus giving Hamilton the chance to prove himself. However, Washington puts Lafayette in charge instead.

In reality, while it was true that Lafayette was given command, he was actually Washington’s original choice. Sarah Vowell’s account of the Monmouth debacle in Lafayette in the Somewhat United States reads like a farce:

Qualms or not, Lee had seniority. Lee declined, deeming it “beneath him” […] Washington offered the command to Lafayette […]. Then Lee wanted it back. Then Washington reminded Lee his heart wasn’t in it. Then Lee agreed and backed off. Then he changed his mind yet again.

Lafayette was, according to Vowell, a “good sport” about the back and forth. She quotes Hamilton as more accurately describing Lee as “truly childish.”

Chernow is clear that the 1000 casualties are total dead/wounded/missing, not just deaths. Lin-Manuel Miranda engages in a little heroic exaggeration with this line.

There were non-human casualties as well, Washington’s celebrated white charger (horse), a gift from Govenor Livingston of New Jersey, also died due to the heat. Chernow writes in his Washington: A Life:

As the battlefield turned into a furnace, this beautiful horse suddenly dropped dead from the heat. At that point, Billy Lee [Washington’s valet slave] trotted up with a chestnut mare…

Hamilton also had horse trouble:

Riding hatless in the sunny field, Hamilton was exhausted from the heat by the time his horse was shot out from under him…

And Burr had his own issues:

So severe was Burr’s sunstroke that it rendered him effectively unfit for further combat duty in the Revolution.

The Continental and British troops exchanged fire from about 12:30PM until the evening. British troops left the battlefield at 11PM and left their fires burning, tricking Washington into thinking they were staying overnight. When he arrived at dawn with fresh troops to continue, the British were gone.

Neither side won. However, this was considered a political victory for the Continental Army, because the ragtag militia had forced the British to retreat.

Echoing the earlier chess reference of “knight takes rook” in “Right Hand Man”.

The Continental and British troops exchanged fire from about 12:30PM until the evening. British troops left the battlefield at 11PM and left their fires burning, tricking Washington into thinking they were staying overnight. When he arrived at dawn with fresh troops to continue, the British were gone.

Neither side won. However, this was considered a political victory for the Continental Army, because the ragtag militia had forced the British to retreat.

Actually, he was court-martialed for insubordination and was found guilty. He was suspended from the army for a year.

Lee actually wrote two articles that prompted Laurens to challenge Lee to a duel. Both articles were written to defend Lee’s conduct at Monmouth, and in essence insulted Washington’s narrative, command, and status as American hero.

Sick burns in “Some Queries, Political and Military,” were posed as questions to the public:

9th: Whether it is salutary or dangerous, consistent with, or abhorrent from, the principles and spirit of liberty and Republicanism, to inculcate and encourage in the people, an idea, that their welfare, safety, and glory, depend on one man? Whether they really do depend on one man?
 
10th: Whether among the late warm, or rather loyal addresses in this city [Baltimore], to his Excellency General Washington, one gentleman excepted, who could possibly be acquainted with his merits?
 
11th: Whether this gentleman excepted, does he really think his Excellency a great man; or whether evidences could not be produced of his sentiments being quite the reverse?

Basically: Really, why are we deifying this dude again? Do any of you really know him – and those of you who know him, he’s kind of awful, right?

The phrasing of the last line echoes Charles Lee’s comment to Burr about Lee’s own plans after his court martial (in Chernow): “to resign my commission, retire to Virginia, and learn to hoe tobacco.” Hey, it worked for Washington, right?

Eh, not quite. Washington said he opposed dueling. However, he did not intervene when his supporters like Laurens sparked duels to defend Washington’s honor.

History did, in fact, prove that Lee was in the wrong. He was court-martialed in August 1778, suspended from duty for a year, and released from duty (fired from the army) in January 1780. He retired to his farm in Virginia and died of a fever in 1782. Few remember him as anything but a poor general and a snide opponent. In December 1778, General John Cadwalader wrote to General Nathanael Greene,

I do not suppose he will ever serve again in our Army – I think it would have [been] better if he never had.

More here.

Earlier in the song, Hamilton said the same thing:

[WASHINGTON]
The cavalry’s not coming

[HAMILTON]
But, sir!

At the time, Washington was correct, and Alexander listened. This time, however, Hamilton refuses the wisdom of his father figure and disobeys orders. Because of this, Hamilton gets sent to time out at the end of “Meet Me Inside”.

Washington, ever the father figure, sees the bigger picture, while the “kids” continue to squabble. Hamilton’s kind of being a teenager here, sneaking behind Dad’s back.

This also comes in to play in when Hamilton’s son, Philip, dies. Instead of remembering what his mentor said to not fight, Hamilton chooses to give his son the opposite advice that evidently gets him killed.

According to Phillip Papas, a Charles Lee biographer:

Perhaps no revolutionary was more livid with Lee than John Laurens, who wanted to write a rebuttal to “Vindication” but felt that his literary talents were not up to the task. Instead, he challenged Lee to a duel.

You can perhaps guess who Laurens thought did have the verbal dexterity to defeat Lee in print. Laurens wrote to Hamilton two days after Lee’s “Vindication” appeared:

You have seen, and by this time considered, General Lee’s infamous publication. … An affair of this kind ought to be passed over in total silence, or answered in a masterly manner. … I think you will, without difficulty, expose, in his defence, letters, and last production, such a tissue of falsehood and inconsistency, as will satisfy the world, and put him for ever to silence.

Incidentally, Charles Lee had a problem with John Laurens (and Hamilton), too. Papas adds:

Lee also claimed that “a most hellish plan has been formed (and I may say at least not discourag’d by Head Quarters)” to destroy his “honour and reputation.” He accused Hamilton, Lafayette, and… John Laurens of being the ringleaders of this plot.

Hamilton, ever a lawyer, finds a loophole in his predicament: Washington ordered Hamilton not to act. However, if someone else were to challenge Lee to a duel, who hadn’t received those orders, he’s under no obligation to stop said person…

The note played and held here is the same as the opening note of “Say No to This.” This could be referring to the historical affair between Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.

According to Phillip Papas, a Charles Lee biographer:

Perhaps no revolutionary was more livid with Lee than John Laurens, who wanted to write a rebuttal to “Vindication” but felt that his literary talents were not up to the task. Instead, he challenged Lee to a duel.

You can perhaps guess who Laurens thought did have the verbal dexterity to defeat Lee in print. Laurens wrote to Hamilton two days after Lee’s “Vindication” appeared:

You have seen, and by this time considered, General Lee’s infamous publication. … An affair of this kind ought to be passed over in total silence, or answered in a masterly manner. … I think you will, without difficulty, expose, in his defence, letters, and last production, such a tissue of falsehood and inconsistency, as will satisfy the world, and put him for ever to silence.

Incidentally, Charles Lee had a problem with John Laurens (and Hamilton), too. Papas adds:

Lee also claimed that “a most hellish plan has been formed (and I may say at least not discourag’d by Head Quarters)” to destroy his “honour and reputation.” He accused Hamilton, Lafayette, and… John Laurens of being the ringleaders of this plot.

In the staged production, before the song transitions into “Ten Duel Commandments,” Laurens and Hamilton share an intimate moment. Hamilton has his hand on the back of Laurens' neck and they linger there, their faces close. It seems to be an allusion to the fact that many historians believe that Hamilton and Laurens shared a romantic connection.

Contextually, Hamilton is telling Laurens not to waste this opportunity to teach Lee a lesson, but he does it with the language both of his personal motif and of the code duello—to not to fire his gun into the sky and waste his shot. Later on, he’ll change his tune when offering his son advice—perhaps in memory of Laurens, who died so young.

As in other places, this foreshadows Hamilton’s duel with Burr wherein he actually does throw away his shot.