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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ponteach, by Robert Rogers
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ponteach
+       The Savages of America
+
+Author: Robert Rogers
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29223]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PONTEACH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
+
+This e-book contains the text of _Ponteach_, extracted from Representative
+Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819. Comments and background
+to all the plays and the other plays are available at Project Gutenberg.
+
+Spelling as in the original has been preserved.
+
+
+
+
+PONTEACH
+
+
+_By_ ROBERT ROGERS
+
+[Illustration: MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS]
+
+
+
+
+MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS
+(1727-1795)
+
+
+Robert Rogers, a soldier of fortune, is the _Davy Crockett_ of
+Colonial times. Born at Dumbarton, New Hampshire, on November 17th
+(some authorities say 1730, another 1731, while the _Dictionary of
+National Biography_ says 1727), he was the son of James Rogers, a
+farmer living in a frontier cabin at Methuen, in upper Massachusetts.
+
+Robert's boyhood was spent in an atmosphere characteristic of pioneer
+life. He had scarcely passed his fifteenth year (Nevins claims in
+1746), when he helped withstand an attack of Indians near his home,
+and this may be considered his first active experience with the Red
+Man. From this time on, the history of the career of Robert Rogers is
+the history of the efforts of the Colonists against the Indians as far
+west as Detroit, and as far south as South Carolina. The necessity
+which confronted all of the Colonists made of young Rogers one of the
+most expert hunters of the period, and in this connection he was
+associated with the famous John Stark, of Green Mountain Boys
+reputation. In the latter's Memoir, written by Caleb Stark, we have as
+graphic a pen-picture of Rogers, the hunter, at twenty-two, as we have
+actual likenesses of Rogers in the pictures of the time.[1]
+
+Evidently Rogers flourished financially at this period, for we find
+him buying land in Massachusetts in 1753. His activity as a soldier in
+the French and Indian War put him in command of a company, known as
+"Rogers' Rangers," and he participated in the Siege of Detroit against
+Pontiac and the French. This experience of his must have fired Rogers
+with the desire, after careful consideration of the condition of the
+Indian, to put his special plea for the cause of the Red Man in some
+permanent literary form, for "Ponteach" was published in 1766, after
+Rogers had left America, had gone to London, and thence had taken
+vessel for Algiers, where he fought under Dey.
+
+By 1761, Rogers had so far advanced in worldly standing that he could
+afford to turn his attention to family affairs. We find him visiting
+Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where Elizabeth, daughter of the Reverend
+Arthur Browne, lived. The two were married on June 30th of that year;
+but evidently there was about Robert Rogers something his
+father-in-law did not quite relish. For, in 1763, a dispute arose
+between the two, because of Rogers' increasing dissipation. That they
+did not reach, however, any immediate open rupture, may have been due
+very largely to the fact that Rogers was becoming quite a land-owner
+in New York and New Hampshire. It was not until March 4, 1778, after
+Rogers had gone through many and varied experiences, not the least of
+which was serving a term in the Debtors' Prison in England, that his
+wife was granted, by the New Hampshire Legislature, a decree of
+divorce. She thereupon married Captain John Poach.
+
+Naturally, most of the interest attached to Rogers is historical, not
+literary. His career in the French and Indian War, outlined by him in
+his "Journal of the French and Indian War," which was published in
+London in 1765; his activity in the Cherokee War in South Carolina;[2]
+his association with William Bird, when he had an opportunity of
+studying the methods of Indian guides; his political ambitions when he
+returned to England in 1765--all of these are matters for the
+historian, and have received adequate consideration by Francis Parkman
+and other writers. During these activities, Rogers was not idle with
+his pen. He kept his Journals, and they clearly reveal how much of a
+ranger he was. After the fashion of the times, when he returned to
+England, anxious to let his friends know of the conditions in America,
+he not only published his Journals (1769), but also a concise account
+of North America (1770). But there must have been something about
+Rogers as a soldier of fortune that was not as straight or as honest
+as _Davy Crockett_. We find him, for example, entrusted with the post
+of Governor of Mackinac, and conducting affairs so illy that he was
+tried for treason. He may have advanced as a soldier through the
+successive ranks to Major, but it would seem that the higher up he
+advanced in position the more unscrupulous he became.
+
+After serving his term in the Debtors' Prison, which began on June 14,
+1773, he returned to America, at the beginning of the Revolution.
+Among his Colonial friends, he not only counted John Stark, the
+ranger, but Israel Putnam as well, both of them ardent patriots and
+upholders of the American cause. It would seem, in 1775, that Rogers,
+to all outward appearance, was himself in sympathy with America. He
+professed being the staunch lover of those principles which America
+was upholding. But General Washington soon had cause to doubt his
+loyalty, and he was watched. With the result that his arrest was
+ordered, and thereupon he confessed his adherence to the Crown. Rogers
+then joined the forces of General Howe, bringing with him an
+invaluable knowledge of the land in New York and New Jersey, and
+adjacent territory. He was put in command of a company, known as the
+"Queen's Rangers," and throughout the Revolution fought bravely on the
+opposing side. After returning to England, he battled for further
+recognition, but never received the full honours he courted. He died
+on May 18, 1795, in South London.
+
+"Ponteach" was probably never given in Rogers's time. There is no
+record of its even having been considered by any of the theatrical
+companies. It was published in 1766, with a London imprint on the
+title-page.[3] There is some slight probability that it was given an
+amateur production at Lake George by the summer residents
+there--certainly an appropriate spot to present a play by Rogers,
+inasmuch as the Ranger was known in that neighbourhood, and there is
+now familiar to all visitors a place called "Rogers's Slide," marking
+one of his escapades with the Indians.
+
+In the present collection, the editor has followed the text of the
+1766 edition, fully realizing the consistent changes made by Mr. Allan
+Nevins in his edition of the play which, with an Introduction,
+Biography, and invaluable historical notes, was published in 1914 by
+the Caxton Club of Chicago.[4]
+
+This piece is one which is not only interesting as representative of
+the early type of Indian drama in America, but it is also interesting
+as reflective of the attitude of a dramatist with a problem to
+propound. "Ponteach" is our first American problem play. Parkman
+claims that at least part of it was written by Rogers, thus throwing
+doubt on his entire claim to authorship. There is not only a dignity
+displayed in the drawing of the main character of the Indian, but
+there is a very naïve attempt at subtle humour in the characters of
+the Englishmen. There is no distinct excellence in depicting Indian
+character as such, after the romantic manner of Cooper, although
+Rogers, with his English tradition, has been able to lend to his
+dialogue a certain dignity of diction which is striking, and which
+gives the play a decided literary value. Taken, however, as an
+historical document--and Mr. Nevins does this--one can trace in
+"Ponteach" the whole range of Rogers's experience as an Indian
+fighter. There are constant allusions in the text to matters which Mr.
+Nevins has found necessary to explain in copious footnotes, and
+therefore to the student I would recommend this single edition of the
+play. "Ponteach" is published here, not from a scholarly standpoint,
+but simply as an example of early Indian drama.
+
+Of these Indian dramas, there are many examples in the early history
+of American playwriting. Laurence Hutton has an entertaining chapter
+on the subject in his "Curiosities of the American Stage," in which he
+enumerates such titles as "Oroloosa," "Oroonoka," "Miautoumah," to say
+nothing of "Hiawatha." "Metamora; or, The Last of the Wampanoags" was
+brought to success through the powerful acting of Edwin Forrest,
+December 15, 1829. William Wheatley, of the Park Theatre, was likewise
+famed for his Indian impersonations. Among other more or less
+well-known plays of the species, enumerated by Wegelin, are:
+
+F. DEFFENBACH. "Onliata; or, The Indian Heroine." Philadelphia. 1821.
+
+JOSEPH DODDRIDGE. "Logan: The Last of the Race of Skikellemus, Chief
+of the Cayuga Nation." Buffalo Creek, Brooke Co., Va. 1823.
+
+G. W. P. CUSTIS. "The Indian Prophecy." A National Drama in Two Acts,
+founded on a most interesting and romantic occurrence in the life of
+General Washington. Georgetown. 1828.
+
+NATHANIEL DEERING. "Carrabasset; or, The Last of the Norridgewocks." A
+Tragedy in Five Acts. Portland. 1830.
+
+W. H. C. HOSMER. "The Fall of Tecumseh." Avon. 1830.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] These pictures were struck off on October 1, 1776. See Smith's
+"British Mezzotint Portraits."
+
+[2] See the South Carolina _Gazette_ files for 1760, 1761.
+
+[3] Ponteach:/or the/Savages of America,/A/Tragedy/[Major Robert
+Rogers.] London:/Printed for the Author; and Sold by J.
+Millan,/opposite the Admiralty, Whitehall./M.DCC.LXVI./[Price 2s. 6d.]
+
+[4] Ponteach/or the/Savages of America/A Tragedy/By Robert Rogers/With
+an Introduction/and a Biography of the Author/By Allan Nevins/Chicago/
+The Caxton Club/1914/
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: PONTEACH:
+
+OR THE
+
+Savages of America.
+
+
+A
+
+TRAGEDY.
+
+
+LONDON: Printed for the Author; and Sold by J. MILLAN, opposite the
+_Admiralty, Whitehall_.
+
+M.DCC.LXVI.
+
+[Price 2s. 6d.]
+
+
+FAC-SIMILE TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION]
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+PONTEACH,               Indian Emperor on the Great Lakes.
+
+PHILIP _and_ CHEKITAN,  Sons of Ponteach.
+
+TENESCO,                His chief Counsellor and Generalissimo.
+
+ASTINACO,        }
+THE BEAR,        }      Indian Kings who join with Ponteach.
+THE WOLF,        }
+
+TORAX _and_      }      Son and Daughter to Hendrick, Emperor
+MONELIA          }        of the Mohawks.
+
+INDIAN                  Conjurer.
+
+FRENCH                  Priest.
+
+SHARP,           }
+GRIPE,           }      Three English Governors.
+CATCHUM,         }
+
+Colonel COCKUM,  }      Commanders at a Garrison in Ponteach's
+Captain FRISK,   }      Country.
+
+M'DOLE _and_     }      Two Indian Traders.
+MURPHEY,         }
+
+HONNYMAN _and_   }      Two English Hunters.
+ORSBOURN,        }
+
+Mrs.  HONNYMAN,         Wife to Honnyman, the Hunter.
+
+              Warriors, Messengers, &c.
+
+
+
+
+PONTEACH: OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. _An Indian Trading House._
+
+_Enter M'DOLE and MURPHEY, two Indian Traders, and their Servants._
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune
+Among the Savages in this wild Desart?
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living,
+Which 'faith I find it hard enough to do;
+Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,
+That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade?
+Know you the Principles by which it prospers,
+And how to make it lucrative and safe?
+If not, you're like a Ship without a Rudder,
+That drives at random, and must surely sink.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+I'm unacquainted with your Indian Commerce,
+And gladly would I learn the Arts from you,
+Who're old, and practis'd in them many Years.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders,
+A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,
+Who might as well turn Ministers of State.
+But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you
+Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,
+Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich,
+Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.
+What have you got to part with to the Indians?
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+I've Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells,
+And such-like Trifles as they're wont to prize.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+'Tis very well: your Articles are good:
+But now the Thing's to make a Profit from them,
+Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither.
+Our fundamental Maxim is this,
+That it's no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+How! Not a Sin to cheat an Indian, say you?
+Are they not Men? hav'n't they a Right to Justice
+As well as we, though savage in their Manners?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Ah! If you boggle here, I say no more;
+This is the very Quintessence of Trade,
+And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it;
+None who neglect it ever did grow rich,
+Or ever will, or can by Indian Commerce.
+By this old Ogden built his stately House,
+Purchas'd Estates, and grew a little King.
+He, like an honest Man, bought all by Weight,
+And made the ign'rant Savages believe
+That his Right Foot exactly weigh'd a Pound:
+By this for many Years he bought their Furs,
+And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+Well, I'll not stick at what is necessary:
+But his Device is now grown old and stale,
+Nor could I manage such a barefac'd Fraud.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+A thousand Opportunities present
+To take Advantage of their Ignorance;
+But the great Engine I employ is Rum,
+More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs.
+This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand,
+Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant;
+Which makes them think me generous and just,
+And gives full Scope to practise all my Art.
+I then begin my Trade with water'd Rum,
+The cooling Draught well suits their scorching Throats.
+Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return:
+My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd,
+That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One;
+Which they, poor silly Souls! ignorant of Weights
+And Rules of Balancing, do not perceive.
+But here they come; you'll see how I proceed.
+Jack, is the Rum prepar'd as I commanded?
+
+JACK.
+
+Yes, sir, all's ready when you please to call.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Bring here the Scales and Weights immediately.
+You see the Trick is easy and conceal'd.
+                                    [_Shewing how to slip the scales._
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+By Jupiter, it's artfully contriv'd;
+And was I King, I swear I'd knight th' Inventor.
+--Tom, mind the Part that you will have to act.
+
+TOM.
+
+Ah, never fear, I'll do as well as Jack.
+But then, you know, an honest Servant's Pains
+Deserve Reward.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+O! I'll take care of that.
+
+_Enter a number of INDIANS with packs of fur._
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+So, what you trade with Indians here to-day?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Yes, if my Goods will suit, and we agree.
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+'Tis Rum we want, we're tired, hot, and thirsty.
+
+3RD INDIAN.
+
+You, Mr. Englishman, have you got Rum?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Jack, bring a Bottle, pour them each a Gill.
+You know which Cask contains the Rum. The Rum?
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+It's good strong Rum, I feel it very soon.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Give me a Glass. Here's Honesty in Trade;
+We English always drink before we deal.
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+Good Way enough; it makes one sharp and cunning.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Hand round another Gill. You're very welcome.
+
+3RD INDIAN.
+
+Some say you Englishmen are sometimes Rogues;
+You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+No, English good. The Frenchmen give no Rum.
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+I think it's best to trade with Englishmen.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+What is your Price for Beaver Skins per Pound?
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+How much you ask per Quart for this strong Rum?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Five Pounds of Beaver for One Quart of Rum.
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+Five Pounds? Too much. Which is 't you call Five Pound?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+This little Weight. I cannot give you more.
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+Well, take 'em; weigh 'em. Don't you cheat us now.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+No: He that cheats an Indian should be hang'd.  [_Weighing the packs._
+There's Thirty Pounds precisely of the Whole;
+Five times Six is Thirty. Six Quarts of Rum.
+Jack, measure it to them: you know the Cask.
+This Rum is sold. You draw it off the best.
+                               [_Exeunt INDIANS to receive their rum._
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+By Jove, you've gain'd more in a single Hour
+Than ever I have done in Half a Year;
+Curse on my Honesty! I might have been
+A little King, and liv'd without Concern,
+Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Ay, there's the Way, my honest Friend, to live.
+                                             [_Clapping his shoulder._
+There's Ninety Weight of Sterling Beaver for you,
+Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;
+And, would my Conscience let me to the Thing,
+I might enhance my Price, and lessen theirs,
+And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+I can't but thank you for your kind Instructions,
+As from them I expect to reap Advantage.
+But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,
+They are malicious, and would have Revenge.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Can't you avoid them? Let their Vengeance light
+On others' Heads, no matter whose, if you
+Are but secure, and have the Cain in Hand:
+For they're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,
+Whether on him that cheated, or his Friend,
+Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,
+Perhaps an honest Peasant, who ne'er dreamt
+Of Fraud or Villainy in all his life;
+Such let them murder, if they will a Score,
+The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,
+Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Desart._
+
+_Enter ORSBOURN and HONNYMAN, two English Hunters._
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Long have we toil'd, and rang'd the Woods in vain,
+No Game, nor Track, nor Sign of any Kind
+Is to be seen; I swear I am discourag'd
+And weary'd out with this long fruitless Hunt.
+No Life on Earth besides is half so hard,
+So full of Disappointments, as a Hunter's:
+Each Morn he wakes he views the destin'd Prey,
+And counts the Profits of th' ensuing Day;
+Each Ev'ning at his curs'd ill Fortune pines,
+And till next Day his Hope of Gain resigns.
+By Jove, I'll from these Desarts hasten home,
+And swear that never more I'll touch a Gun.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+These hateful Indians kidnap all the Game.
+Curse their black Heads! they fright the Deer and Bear,
+And ev'ry Animal that haunts the Wood,
+Or by their Witchcraft conjure them away.
+No Englishman can get a single Shot,
+While they go loaded home with Skins and Furs.
+'Twere to be wish'd not one of them survived,
+Thus to infest the World, and plague Mankind.
+Curs'd Heathen Infidels! mere savage Beasts!
+They don't deserve to breathe in Christian Air,
+And should be hunted down like other Brutes.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+I only wish the Laws permitted us
+To hunt the savage Herd where e'er they're found;
+I'd never leave the Trade of Hunting then,
+While one remain'd to tread and range the Wood.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Curse on the Law, I say, that makes it Death
+To kill an Indian, more than to kill a Snake.
+What if 'tis Peace? these Dogs deserve no Mercy;
+Cursed revengeful, cruel, faithless Devils!
+They kill'd my Father and my eldest Brother.
+Since which I hate their very Looks and Name.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+And I, since they betray'd and kill'd my Uncle;
+Hell seize their cruel, unrelenting Souls!
+Tho' these are not the same, 'twould ease my Heart
+To cleave their painted Heads, and spill their Blood.
+I abhor, detest, and hate them all,
+And now cou'd eat an Indian's Heart with Pleasure.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I'd join you, and soop his savage Brains for Sauce;
+I lose all Patience when I think of them,
+And, if you will, we'll quickly have Amends
+For our long Travel and successless Hunt,
+And the sweet Pleasure of Revenge to boot.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+What will you do? Present, and pop one down?
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Yes, faith, the first we meet well fraught with Furs;
+Or if there's Two, and we can make sure Work,
+By Jove, we'll ease the Rascals of their Packs,
+And send them empty home to their own Country.
+But then observe, that what we do is secret,
+Or the Hangman will come in for Snacks.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Trust me for that; I'll join with all my Heart;
+Nor with a nicer Aim, or steadier Hand,
+Would shoot a Tyger than I would an Indian.
+There is a Couple stalking now this Way
+With lusty Packs; Heav'n favour our Design.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Silence; conceal yourself, and mind your Eye.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Are you well charg'd?
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I am. Take you the nearest,
+And mind to fire exactly when I do.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+A charming Chance!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Hush, let them still come nearer.
+                          [_They shoot, and run to rifle the INDIANS._
+They're down, old Boy, a Brace of noble Bucks!
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Well tallow'd, faith, and noble Hides upon 'em.   [_Taking up a pack._
+We might have hunted all the Season thro'
+For Half this Game, and thought ourselves well paid.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+By Jove, we might, and been at great Expence
+For Lead and Powder, here's a single Shot.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+I swear I've got as much as I can carry.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+And faith I'm not behind; this Pack is heavy.
+But stop; we must conceal the tawny Dogs,
+Or their blood-thirsty Countrymen will find them,
+And then we're bit. There'll be the Devil to pay,
+They'll murder us, and cheat the Hangman too.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Right. We'll prevent all Mischief of this Kind.
+Where shall we hide their savage Carcases?
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+There they will lie conceal'd and snug enough--    [_They cover them._
+But stay--perhaps ere long there'll be a War,
+And then their Scalps will sell for ready Cash
+Two Hundred Crowns at least, and that's worth saving.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Well! that is true, no sooner said than done--   [_Drawing his knife._
+I'll strip this Fellow's painted greasy Skull.
+                                              [_Strips off the scalp._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+A damn'd tough Hide, or my Knife's devilish dull--
+                                             [_Takes the other scalp._
+Now let them sleep to-night without their Caps,
+And pleasant Dreams attend their long Repose.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Their Guns and Hatchets now are lawful Prize,
+For they'll not need them on their present Journey.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+The Devil hates Arms, and dreads the Smell of Powder;
+He'll not allow such Instruments about him,
+They're free from training now, they're in his Clutches.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+But, Honnyman, d'ye think this is not Murder?
+I vow I'm shock'd a little to see them scalp'd,
+And fear their Ghosts will haunt us in the Dark.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+It's no more Murder than to crack a Louse,
+That is, if you've the Wit to keep it private.
+And as to Haunting, Indians have no Ghosts,
+But as they live like Beasts, like Beasts they die.
+I've kill'd a Dozen in this self-same Way,
+And never yet was troubled with their Spirits.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Then I'm content; my Scruples are remov'd.
+And what I've done, my Conscience justifies.
+But we must have these Guns and Hatchets alter'd,
+Or they'll detect th' Affair, and hang us both.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+That's quickly done--Let us with Speed return,
+And think no more of being hang'd or haunted;
+But turn our Fur to Gold, our Gold to Wine,
+Thus gaily spend what we've so slily won,
+And bless the first Inventor of a Gun.                      [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III. _An English Fort._
+
+_Enter Colonel COCKUM and Captain FRISK._
+
+COCKUM.
+
+What shall we do with these damn'd bawling Indians?
+They're swarming every Day with their Complaints
+Of Wrongs and Injuries, and God knows what--
+I wish the Devil would take them to himself.
+
+FRISK.
+
+Your Honour's right to wish the Devil his Due.
+I'd send the noisy Hellhounds packing hence,
+Nor spend a Moment in debating with them.
+The more you give Attention to their Murmurs,
+The more they'll plague and haunt you every Day,
+Besides, their old King Ponteach grows damn'd saucy,
+Talks of his Power, and threatens what he'll do.
+Perdition to their faithless sooty Souls,
+I'd let 'em know at once to keep their Distance.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Captain, You're right; their Insolence is such
+As beats my Patience; cursed Miscreants!
+They are encroaching; fain would be familiar:
+I'll send their painted Heads to Hell with Thunder!
+I swear I'll blow 'em hence with Cannon Ball,
+And give the Devil an Hundred for his Supper.
+
+FRISK.
+
+They're coming here; you see they scent your Track,
+And while you'll listen, they will ne'er be silent,
+But every Day improve in Insolence.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+I'll soon dispatch and storm them from my Presence.
+
+_Enter PONTEACH, and other Indian CHIEFS._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Well, Mr. Colonel Cockum, what d' they call you?
+You give no Answer yet to my Complaint;
+Your Men give my Men always too much Rum,
+Then trade and cheat 'em. What! d' ye think this right?
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Tush! Silence! hold your noisy cursed Nonsense;
+I've heard enough of it; what is it to me?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What! you a Colonel, and not command your Men?
+Let ev'ry one be a Rogue that has a Mind to 't.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Why, curse your Men, I suppose they wanted Rum;
+They'll rarely be content, I know, without it.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What then? If Indians are such Fools, I think
+White Men like you should stop and teach them better.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+I'm not a Pedagogue to your curs'd Indians.                  [_Aside._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Colonel, I hope that you'll consider this.
+
+FRISK.
+
+Why, don't you see the Colonel will not hear you?
+You'd better go and watch your Men yourself,
+Nor plague us with your cursed endless Noise;
+We've something else to do of more Importance.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Hah! Captain Frisk, what! you a great man too?
+My Bus'ness here is only with your Colonel;
+And I'll be heard, or know the Reason why.
+
+1ST CHIEF.
+
+I thought the English had been better Men.
+
+2ND CHIEF.
+
+Frenchmen would always hear an Indian speak,
+And answer fair, and make good Promises.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+You may be d----d, and all your Frenchmen too.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Be d----d! what's that? I do not understand.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+The Devil teach you; he'll do it without a Fee.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Devil teach! I think you one great Fool.
+Did your King tell you thus to treat the Indians?
+Had he been such a Dunce he ne'er had conquer'd,
+And made the running French for Quarter cry.
+I always mind that such proud Fools are Cowards,
+And never do aught that is great or good.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Forbear your Impudence, you curs'd old Thief;
+This Moment leave my Fort, and to your Country.
+Let me hear no more of your hellish Clamour,
+Or to D----n I will blow you all,
+And feast the Devil with one hearty Meal.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+So ho! Know you whose Country you are in?
+Think you, because you have subdu'd the French,
+That Indians too are now become your Slaves?
+This Country's mine, and here I reign as King;
+I value not your Threats, nor Forts, nor Guns;
+I have got Warriors, Courage, Strength, and Skill.
+Colonel, take care; the Wound is very deep,
+Consider well, for it is hard to cure.              [_Exeunt INDIANS._
+
+FRISK.
+
+Vile Infidels! observe their Insolence;
+Old Ponteach puts on a mighty Air.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+They'll always be a Torment till destroy'd,
+And sent all headlong to the Devil's Kitchen.
+This curs'd old Thief, no doubt, will give us Trouble,
+Provok'd and madded at his cool Reception.
+
+FRISK.
+
+Oh! Colonel, they are never worth our minding,
+What can they do against our Bombs and Cannon?
+True, they may skulk, and kill and scalp a few,
+But, Heav'n be thank'd, we're safe within these Walls:
+Besides, I think the Governors are coming,
+To make them Presents, and establish Peace.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+That may perhaps appease their bloody Minds,
+And keep them quiet for some little Term.
+God send the Day that puts them all to sleep,
+Come, will you crack a Bottle at my Tent?
+
+FRISK.
+
+With all my Heart, and drink D----n to them.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+I can in nothing more sincerely join.                       [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV. _An Apartment in the Fort._
+
+_Enter Governors SHARP, GRIPE, and CATCHUM._
+
+SHARP.
+
+Here are we met to represent our King,
+And by his royal Bounties to conciliate
+These Indians' Minds to Friendship, Peace, and Love.
+But he that would an honest Living get
+In Times so hard and difficult as these,
+Must mind that good old Rule, Take care of One.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Ay, Christian Charity begins at home;
+I think it's in the Bible, I know I've read it.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I join with Paul, that he's an Infidel
+Who does not for himself and Friends provide.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Yes, Paul in fact was no bad Politician,
+And understood himself as well as most.
+All good and wise Men certainly take care
+To help themselves and Families the first;
+Thus dictates Nature, Instinct, and Religion,
+Whose easy Precepts ought to be obey'd.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+But how does this affect our present Purpose?
+We've heard the Doctrine; what's the Application?
+
+SHARP.
+
+We are intrusted with these Indian Presents.
+A Thousand Pound was granted by the King,
+To satisfy them of his Royal Goodness,
+His constant Disposition to their Welfare,
+And reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.
+Five hundred's gone; you know our late Division,
+Our great Expence, _Et cetera_, no Matter:
+The other Half was laid out for these Goods,
+To be distributed as we think proper;
+And whether Half (I only put the Question)
+Of these said Goods, won't answer every End,
+And bring about as long a lasting Peace
+As tho' the Whole were lavishly bestow'd?
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I'm clear upon 't they will, if we affirm
+That Half's the Whole was sent them by the King.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+There is no doubt but that One Third wou'd answer,
+For they, poor Souls! are ign'rant of the Worth
+Of single Things, nor know they how to add
+Or calculate, and cast the whole Amount.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Why, Want of Learning is a great Misfortune.
+How thankful should we be that we have Schools,
+And better taught and bred than these poor Heathen.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+Yes, only these Two simple easy Rules,
+Addition and Subtraction, are great Helps,
+And much contribute to our happiness.
+
+SHARP.
+
+'Tis these I mean to put in Practice now;
+Subtraction from these Royal Presents makes
+Addition to our Gains without a Fraction.
+But let us overhaul and take the best,
+Things may be given that won't do to sell.
+                                       [_They overhaul the goods, &c._
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+Lay these aside; they'll fetch a noble Price.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+And these are very saleable, I think.
+
+SHARP.
+
+The Indians will be very fond of these.
+Is there the Half, think you?
+
+GRIPE.
+
+It's thereabouts.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+This bag of Wampum may be added yet.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Here, Lads, convey these Goods to our Apartment.
+
+SERVANT.
+
+The Indians, sir, are waiting at the Gate.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Conduct them in when you've disposed of these.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+This should have been new-drawn before they enter'd.
+                       [_Pulling out an inventory of the whole goods._
+
+GRIPE.
+
+What matters that? They cannot read, you know,
+And you can read to them in gen'ral Terms.
+
+_Enter PONTEACH, with several of his Chieftains._
+
+SHARP.
+
+Welcome, my Brothers, we are glad to meet you,
+And hope that you will not repent our coming.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+We're glad to see our Brothers here the English.
+If honourable Peace be your Desire,
+We'd always have the Hatchet buried deep,
+While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Lakes endure,
+And Trees and Herbs within our Country grow.
+But then you must not cheat and wrong the Indians,
+Or treat us with Reproach, Contempt, and Scorn;
+Else we will raise the Hatchet to the Sky,
+And let it never touch the Earth again,
+Sharpen its Edge, and keep it bright as Silver,
+Or stain it red with Murder and with Blood.
+Mind what I say, I do not tell you Lies.
+
+SHARP.
+
+We hope you have no Reason to complain
+That Englishmen conduct to you amiss;
+We're griev'd if they have given you Offence,
+And fain would heal the Wound while it is fresh,
+Lest it should spread, grow painful, and severe.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Your Men make Indians drunk, and then they cheat 'em.
+Your Officers, your Colonels, and your Captains
+Are proud, morose, ill-natur'd, churlish Men,
+Treat us with Disrespect, Contempt, and Scorn.
+I tell you plainly this will never do,
+We never thus were treated by the French,
+Them we thought bad enough, but think you worse.
+
+SHARP.
+
+There's good and bad, you know, in every Nation;
+There's some good Indians, some are the reverse,
+Whom you can't govern, and restrain from ill;
+So there's some Englishmen that will be bad.
+You must not mind the Conduct of a few,
+Nor judge the rest by what you see of them.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+If you've some good, why don't you send them here?
+These every one are Rogues, and Knaves, and Fools,
+And think no more of Indians than of Dogs.
+Your King had better send his good Men hither,
+And keep his bad ones in some other Country;
+Then you would find that Indians would do well,
+Be peaceable, and honest in their Trade;
+We'd love you, treat you, as our Friends and Brothers,
+And Raise the Hatchet only in your Cause.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Our King is very anxious for your Welfare,
+And greatly wishes for your Love and Friendship;
+He would not have the Hatchet ever raised,
+But buried deep, stamp'd down and cover'd o'er,
+As with a Mountain that can never move:
+For this he sent us to your distant Country,
+Bid us deliver you these friendly Belts,
+                                       [_Holding out belts of wampum._
+All cover'd over with his Love and Kindness.
+He like a Father loves you as his Children;
+And like a Brother wishes you all Good;
+We'll let him know the Wounds that you complain of,
+And he'll be speedy to apply the Cure,
+And clear the Path to Friendship, Peace, and Trade.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Your King, I hear 's a good and upright Man,
+True to his word, and friendly in his Heart;
+Not proud and insolent, morose and sour,
+Like these his petty Officers and Servants:
+I want to see your King, and let him know
+What must be done to keep the Hatchet dull,
+And how the Path of Friendship, Peace, and Trade
+May be kept clean and solid as a Rock.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Our King is distant over the great Lake,
+But we can quickly send him your Requests;
+To which he'll listen with attentive Ear,
+And act as tho' you told him with your Tongue.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Let him know then his People here are Rogues,
+And cheat and wrong and use the Indians ill.
+Tell him to send good Officers, and call
+These proud ill-natur'd Fellows from my Country,
+And keep his Hunters from my hunting Ground.
+He must do this, and do it quickly too,
+Or he will find the Path between us bloody.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Of this we will acquaint our gracious King,
+And hope you and your Chiefs will now confirm
+A solid Peace as if our King was present;
+We're his Ambassadors, and represent him,
+And bring these Tokens of his Royal Friendship
+To you, your Captains, Chiefs, and valiant Men.
+Read, Mr. Catchum, you've the Inventory.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+The British King, of his great Bounty, sends
+To Ponteach, King upon the Lakes, and his Chiefs,
+Two hundred, No [_Aside_] a Number of fine Blankets,
+Six hundred [_Aside_] Yes, and several Dozen Hatchets,
+Twenty thousand [_Aside_] and a Bag of Wampum,
+A Parcel too of Pans, and Knives, and Kettles.
+
+SHARP.
+
+This rich and royal Bounty you'll accept,
+And as you please distribute to your Chiefs,
+And let them know they come from England's King,
+As Tokens to them of his Love and Favour.
+We've taken this long Journey at great Charge,
+To see and hold with you this friendly Talk;
+We hope your Minds are all disposed to Peace,
+And that you like our Sovereign's Bounty well.
+
+1ST CHIEF.
+
+We think it very small, we heard of more.
+Most of our Chiefs and Warriors are not here,
+They all expect to share a Part with us.
+
+2ND CHIEF.
+
+These won't reach round to more than half our Tribes,
+Few of our Chiefs will have a single Token
+Of your King's Bounty, that you speak so much of.
+
+3RD CHIEF.
+
+And those who haven't will be dissatisfied,
+Think themselves slighted, think your King is stingy,
+Or else that you his Governors are Rogues,
+And keep your Master's Bounty for yourselves.
+
+4TH CHIEF.
+
+We hear such Tricks are sometimes play'd with Indians.
+King Astenaco, the great Southern Chief,
+Who's been in England, and has seen your King,
+Told me that he was generous, kind, and true,
+But that his Officers were Rogues and Knaves,
+And cheated Indians out of what he gave.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+The Devil's in 't, I fear that we're detected.               [_Aside._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Indians a'n't Fools, if White Men think us so;
+We see, we hear, we think as well as you;
+We know there 're Lies, and Mischiefs in the World;
+We don't know whom to trust, nor when to fear;
+Men are uncertain, changing as the Wind,
+Inconstant as the Waters of the Lakes,
+Some smooth and fair, and pleasant as the Sun,
+Some rough and boist'rous, like the Winter Storm;
+Some are Insidious as the subtle Snake,
+Some innocent, and harmless as the Dove;
+Some like the Tyger raging, cruel, fierce,
+Some like the Lamb, humble, submissive, mild,
+And scarcely one is every Day the same;
+But I call no Man bad, till such he's found,
+Then I condemn and cast him from my Sight;
+And no more trust him as a Friend and Brother.
+I hope to find you honest Men and true.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Indeed you may depend upon our Honours,
+We're faithful Servants of the best of Kings;
+We scorn an Imposition on your Ignorance,
+Abhor the Arts of Falsehood and Deceit.
+These are the Presents our great Monarch sent,
+He's of a bounteous, noble, princely Mind
+And had he known the Numbers of your Chiefs,
+Each would have largely shar'd his Royal Goodness;
+But these are rich and worthy your Acceptance,
+Few Kings on Earth can such as these bestow,
+For Goodness, Beauty, Excellence, and Worth.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Presents from your Sovereign I accept,
+His friendly Belts to us shall be preserved,
+And in Return convey you those to him.              [_Belts and furs._
+Which let him know our Mind, and what we wish,
+That we dislike his crusty Officers,
+And wish the Path of Peace was made more plain,
+The Calumet I do not choose to smoke,
+Till I see further, and my other Chiefs
+Have been consulted. Tell your King from me,
+That first or last a Rogue will be detected,
+That I have Warriors, am myself a King,
+And will be honour'd and obey'd as such;
+Tell him my Subjects shall not be oppress'd,
+But I will seek Redress and take Revenge;
+Tell your King this; I have no more to say.
+
+SHARP.
+
+To our great King your Gifts we will convey,
+And let him know the Talk we've had with you;
+We're griev'd we cannot smoke the Pipe of Peace,
+And part with stronger Proofs of Love and Friendship;
+Meantime we hope you'll so consider Matters,
+As still to keep the Hatchet dull and buried,
+And open wide the shining Path of Peace,
+That you and we may walk without a Blunder.         [_Exeunt INDIANS._
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Th' appear not fully satisfied, I think.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I do not like old Ponteach's Talk and Air,
+He seems suspicious, and inclin'd to war.
+
+SHARP.
+
+They're always jealous, bloody, and revengeful,
+You see that they distrust our Word and Honour;
+No wonder then if they suspect the Traders,
+And often charge them with downright Injustice.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+True, when even we that come to make them Presents,
+Cannot escape their Fears and Jealousies.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+Well, we have this, at least, to comfort us;
+Their good Opinion is no Commendation,
+Nor their foul Slanders any Stain to Honour.
+I think we've done whatever Men could do
+To reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.
+If they're displeas'd, our Honour is acquitted,
+And we have not been wanting in our Duty
+To them, our King, our Country, and our Friends.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+But what Returns are these they've left behind?
+These Belts are valuable, and neatly wrought.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+This Pack of Furs is very weighty too;
+The Skins are pick'd, and of the choicest Kind.
+
+SHARP.
+
+By Jove, they're worth more Money than their Presents.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Indeed they are; the King will be no Loser.
+
+SHARP.
+
+The King! who ever sent such Trumpery to him?
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+What would the King of England do with Wampum?
+Or Beaver Skins, d'ye think? He's not a Hatter!
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Then it's a Perquisite belongs to us?
+
+SHARP.
+
+Yes, they're become our lawful Goods and Chattels,
+By all the Rules and Laws of Indian Treaties.
+The King would scorn to take a Gift from Indians,
+And think us Madmen, should we send them to him.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I understand we make a fair Division,
+And have no Words nor Fraud among ourselves.
+
+SHARP.
+
+We throw the whole into one common Stock,
+And go Copartners in the Loss and Gain.
+Thus most who handle Money for the Crown
+Find means to make the better Half their own;
+And, to your better Judgments with Submission,
+The self Neglecter's a poor Politician.
+These Gifts, you see will all Expences pay;  }
+Heav'n send an Indian Treaty every Day;      }
+We dearly love to serve our King this way.   }
+
+_The End of the First Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. _An Indian House._
+
+_Enter PHILIP and CHEKITAN from hunting, loaded with venison._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+The Day's Toil's ended, and the Ev'ning smiles
+With all the Joy and Pleasantness of Plenty.
+Our good Success and Fortune in the Chace
+Will make us Mirth and Pastime for the Night.
+How will the old King and his Hunters smile
+To see us loaded with the fatt'ning Prey,
+And joyously relate their own Adventures?
+Not the brave Victor's Shout, or Spoils of War,
+Would give such Pleasure to their gladden'd Hearts.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+These, Philip, are the unstain'd Fruits of Peace,
+Effected by the conqu'ring British Troops.
+Now may we hunt the Wilds secure from Foes,
+And seek our Food and Clothing by the Chace,
+While Ease and Plenty thro' our Country reign.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Happy Effects indeed! long may they last!
+But I suspect the Term will be but short,
+Ere this our happy Realm is curs'd afresh
+With all the Noise and Miseries of War,
+And Blood and Murder stain our Land again.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What hast thou heard that seems to threaten this,
+Or is it idle Fancy and Conjectures?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Our Father's late Behaviour and Discourse
+Unite to raise Suspicions in my Mind
+Of his Designs? Hast thou not yet observ'd,
+That tho' at first he favour'd England's Troops,
+When they late landed on our fertile Shore,
+Proclaim'd his Approbation of their March,
+Convoy'd their Stores, protected them from Harm,
+Nay, put them in Possession of Detroit;
+And join'd to fill the Air with loud Huzzas
+When England's Flag was planted on its Walls?
+Yet, since, he seems displeas'd at their Success,
+Thinks himself injured, treated with Neglect
+By their Commanders, as of no Account,
+As one subdu'd and conquer'd with the French,
+As one, whose Right to Empire now is lost,
+And he become a Vassal of their Power,
+Instead of an Ally. At this he's mov'd,
+And in his Royal Bosom glows Revenge,
+Which I suspect will sudden burst and spread
+Like Lightning from the Summer's burning Cloud,
+That instant sets whole Forests in a Blaze.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Something like this I have indeed perceiv'd;
+And this explains what I but now beheld,
+Returning from the Chace, myself concealed,
+Our Royal Father basking in the Shade,
+His Looks severe, Revenge was in his Eyes,
+All his great Soul seem'd mounted in his Face,
+And bent on something hazardous and great.
+With pensive Air he view'd the Forest round;
+Smote on his Breast as if oppress'd with Wrongs,
+With Indignation stamp'd upon the Ground;
+Extended then and shook his mighty Arm,
+As in Defiance of a coming Foe;
+Then like the hunted Elk he forward sprung,
+As tho' to trample his Assailants down.
+The broken Accents murmur'd from his Tongue,
+As rumbling Thunder from a distant Cloud,
+Distinct I heard, "'Tis fix'd, I'll be reveng'd;
+I will make War; I'll drown this Land in Blood."
+He disappear'd like the fresh-started Roe
+Pursu'd by Hounds o'er rocky Hills and Dales,
+That instant leaves the anxious Hunter's Eye;
+Such was his Speed towards the other Chiefs.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+He's gone to sound their Minds to Peace and War,
+And learn who'll join the Hazards in his Cause.
+The Fox, the Bear, the Eagle, Otter, Wolf,
+And other valiant Princes of the Empire,
+Have late resorted hither for some End
+Of common Import. Time will soon reveal
+Their secret Counsels and their fix'd Decrees.
+Peace has its Charms for those who love their Ease,
+But active Souls like mine delight in Blood.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Should War be wag'd, what Discords may we fear
+Among ourselves? The powerful Mohawk King
+Will ne'er consent to fight against the English,
+Nay, more, will join them as firm Ally,
+And influence other Chiefs by his Example,
+To muster all their Strength against our Father.
+Fathers perhaps will fight against their Sons,
+And nearest Friends pursue each other's Lives;
+Blood, Murder, Death, and Horror will be rife,
+Where Peace and Love, and Friendship triumph now.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Such stale Conjectures smell of Cowardice.
+Our Father's Temper shews us the reverse:
+All Danger he defies, and, once resolv'd,
+No Arguments will move him to relent,
+No Motives change his Purpose of Revenge,
+No Prayers prevail upon him to delay
+The Execution of his fix'd Design:
+Like the starv'd Tyger in Pursuit of Prey,
+No Opposition will retard his Course;
+Like the wing'd Eagle that looks down on Clouds,
+All Hindrances are little in his Eye,
+And his great Mind knows not the Pain of Fear.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Such Hurricanes of Courage often lead
+To Shame and Disappointment in the End,
+And tumble blindfold on their own Disgrace.
+True Valour's slow, deliberate, and cool,
+Considers well the End, the Way, the Means,
+And weighs each Circumstance attending them.
+Imaginary Dangers it detects,
+And guards itself against all real Evils.
+But here Tenesco comes with Speed important;
+His Looks and Face presage us something new.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Hail, noble Youth! The News of your Return
+And great Success has reach'd your Father's Ears.
+Great is his Joy; but something more important
+Seems to rest heavy on his anxious Mind,
+And he commands your Presence at his Cabin.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+We will attend his Call with utmost Speed,
+Nor wait Refreshment after our Day's Toil.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _PONTEACH'S Cabin._
+
+_PONTEACH, PHILIP, CHEKITAN, and TENESCO._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+My Sons, and trusty Counsellor Tenesco,
+As the sweet smelling Rose, when yet a Bud,
+Lies close conceal'd, till Time and the Sun's Warmth
+Hath swell'd, matur'd, and brought it forth to View,
+So these my Purposes I now reveal
+Are to be kept with You, on pain of Death,
+Till Time hath ripen'd my aspiring Plan,
+And Fortune's Sunshine shall disclose the Whole;
+Or should we fail, and Fortune prove perverse,
+Let it be never known how far we fail'd,
+Lest Fools shou'd triumph, or our Foes rejoice.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Life of Great Designs is Secrecy,
+And in Affairs of State 'tis Honour's Guard;
+For Wisdom cannot form a Scheme so well,
+But Fools will laugh if it should prove abortive;
+And our Designs once known, our Honour's made
+Dependent on the Fickleness of Fortune.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+What may your great and secret Purpose be,
+That thus requires Concealment in its Birth?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+To raise the Hatchet from its short Repose,
+Brighten its Edge, and stain it deep with Blood;
+To scourge my proud, insulting, haughty Foes,
+To enlarge my Empire, which will soon be yours:
+Your Interest, Glory, Grandeur, I consult,
+And therefore hope with Vigour you'll pursue
+And execute whatever I command.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+When we refuse Obedience to your Will,
+We are not worthy to be call'd your Sons.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+If we inherit not our Father's Valour,
+We never can deserve to share his Empire.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Spoke like yourselves, the Sons of Ponteach;
+Strength, Courage, and Obedience form the Soldier,
+And the firm Base of all true Greatness lay.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Our Empire now is large, our Forces strong,
+Our Chiefs are wise, our Warriors valiant Men;
+We all are furnish'd with the best of Arms,
+And all things requisite to curb a Foe;
+And now's our Time, if ever, to secure
+Our Country, Kindred, Empire, all that's dear,
+From these Invaders of our Rights, the English,
+And set their Bounds towards the rising Sun.
+Long have I seen with a suspicious Eye
+The Strength and growing Numbers of the French;
+Their Forts and Settlements I've view'd as Snakes
+Of mortal Bite, bound by the Winter Frost,
+Which in some future warm reviving Day
+Would stir and hiss, and spit their Poison forth,
+And spread Destruction through our happy Land.
+Where are we now? The French are all subdued,
+But who are in their Stead become our Lords?
+A proud, imperious, churlish, haughty Band.
+The French familiarized themselves with us,
+Studied our Tongue, and Manners, wore our Dress,
+Married our Daughters, and our Sons their Maids,
+Dealt honestly, and well supplied our Wants,
+Used no One ill, and treated with Respect
+Our Kings, our Captains, and our aged Men;
+Call'd us their Friends, nay, what is more, their Children,
+And seem'd like Fathers anxious for our Welfare.
+Whom see we now? their haughty Conquerors
+Possess'd of every Fort, and Lake, and Pass,
+Big with their Victories so often gain'd;
+On us they look with deep Contempt and Scorn,
+Are false, deceitful, knavish, insolent;
+Nay, think us conquered, and our Country theirs,
+Without a Purchase, or ev'n asking for it.
+With Pleasure I wou'd call their King my Friend,
+Yea, honour and obey him as my Father;
+I'd be content, would he keep his own Sea,
+And leave these distant Lakes and Streams to us;
+Nay, I would pay him Homage, if requested,
+And furnish Warriors to support his Cause.
+But thus to lose my Country and my Empire,
+To be a Vassal to his low Commanders,
+Treated with disrespect and public Scorn
+By Knaves, by Miscreants, Creatures of his Power;
+Can this become a King like Ponteach,
+Whose Empire's measured only by the Sun?
+No, I'll assert my Right, the Hatchet raise,
+And drive these Britons hence like frighted Deer,
+Destroy their Forts, and make them rue the Day
+That to our fertile Land they found the Way.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+No Contradiction to your great Design;
+But will not such Proceeding injure us?
+Where is our Trade and Commerce to be carry'd?
+For they're possess'd of all the Country round,
+Or whence Supplies of Implements for War?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Whence? Take them from our conquered running Foes.
+Their Fortresses are Magazines of Death,
+Which we can quickly turn against themselves;
+And when they're driven to their destin'd Bounds,
+Their Love of Gain will soon renew their Trade.
+The heartless French, whene'er they see us conquer,
+Will join their little Force to help us on.
+Nay, many of their own brave trusty Soldiers,
+In Hope of Gain, will give us their Assistance;
+For Gain's their great Commander, and will lead them
+Where their brave Generals cannot force their March:
+Some have engag'd, when they see hope of Plunder,
+In sly Disguise to kill their Countrymen.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+These Things indeed are promising and fair,
+And seem a Prelude to our full Success.
+But will not many Indian Chiefs refuse
+To join the Lists, and hold themselves oblig'd
+T' assist the Foe when hardly press'd by us?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I've sounded all their Minds; there's but a few
+That are not warm and hearty in our Cause,
+And those faint Hearts we'll punish at our Leisure:
+For hither tends my Purpose; to subdue
+The Tribes who now their annual Homage pay
+To the imperious haughty Mohawk Chief,
+Whose Pride and Insolence 'tis Time to curb.
+He ever boasts the Greatness of his Empire,
+The Swiftness, Skill and Valour of his Warriors,
+His former Conquests, and his fresh Exploits,
+The Terror of his Arms in distant Lands,
+And on a Footing puts himself with me,
+For Wisdom to contrive, and Power to do.
+Such a proud Rival must not breathe the Air;
+I'll die in fighting, or I'll reign alone
+O'er every Indian Nation, Tribe, and Chief.
+But this in solemn Silence we conceal,
+Till they're drawn in to fight the common Foe,
+Then from my Face, the sly Disguise I'll cast,
+And shew them Ponteach to their Surprise.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Thy Plan is wise, and may Success attend it;
+May all the warlike numerous Tribes unite,
+Nor cease to conquer while thou hast a Foe!
+Then may they join and own thee for their Sovereign,
+Pay full Submission to thy scepter'd Arm,
+And universal Empire by thy own!
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Would you the Mohawk Emperor displease,
+And wage a bloody War, by which you made
+Him and his num'rous Tribes your certain Foes?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Most of his Tribes will welcome the Proposal;
+For long their galled Necks have felt the Yoke,
+Long wish'd for Freedom from his partial Sway,
+In favour of the proud incroaching Britons.
+Nay, they have oft, in spite of his Displeasure,
+Rush'd forth like Wolves upon their naked Borders,
+And now, like Tygers broken from their Chains,
+they'll glut themselves, and revel in their Blood.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Myself will undertake to make even Hendrick
+Our zealous Friend against the common Foe;
+His strong Attachment to them I'll dissolve,
+And make him rage, and thirst for Vengeance on them.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+This would be doing Honour to thyself,
+And make thee worthy of thy Father's Crown.
+The secret Means I will not now inquire,
+Nor doubt but thus engag'd you will perform.
+The Chiefs in part are knowing to my Purpose,
+And think of nought but War, and Blood, and Plunder,
+Till in full Council we declare our Pleasure.
+But first my last Night's Dream I will relate,
+Which much disturb'd my weary anxious Mind,
+And must portend some signal grand Event
+Of Good or Evil both to me or mine.
+On yonder Plain I saw the lordly Elk
+Snuffing the empty Air in seeming Sport,
+Tossing his Head aloft, as if in Pride
+Of his great Bulk and nervous active Limbs,
+And Scorn of every Beast that haunts the Wood.
+With mighty Stride he travelled to and fro,
+And as he mov'd his Size was still increas'd,
+Till his wide Branches reached above the Trees,
+And his extended Trunk across the Plain.
+The other Beasts beheld with wild Amaze,
+Stood trembling round, nor dare they to approach
+Till the fierce Tyger yell'd the loud Alarm,
+When Bears, Cats, Wolves, Panthers, and Porcupines,
+And other Beasts of Prey, with Force united
+And savage Rage, attack'd the common Foe.
+But as the busking Bull, when Summer Flies,
+With keenest Sting disturb the grazing Herd,
+Stands careless in some shady cool Retreat,
+And from his Sides sweeps the envenom'd Mites,
+Or shakes them with a Stamp into the Dust;
+So he unmov'd amidst their Clamours stood,
+Trampled and spurn'd them with his Hoofs and Horns,
+Till all dispers'd in wild Disorder fled,
+And left him Master of th' extended Plain.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This Dream no doubt is full of some great Meaning,
+And in it bears the Fate of your Design,
+But whether good or ill, to me 's a Secret.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+It ne'er was counted ill to dream of Elks,
+But always thought portentous of Success,
+Of happy Life, and Victories in War,
+Or fortune good when we attempt the Chace.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Such is the common Say; but here the Size
+And all the Circumstances are uncommon,
+And therefore can contain no common Meaning:
+I fear these Things portend no Good to us,
+That Mischiefs lurk like Serpents in the Grass,
+Whose pois'nous deadly Bite precedes all Warning.
+That this Design will end in mighty Ruin
+To us and ours, Discord among our Friends,
+And Triumph to our Foes.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+A valiant Hero!
+Thou always wast a Coward, and hated War,
+And lov'st to loll on the soft Lap of Peace.
+Thou art a very Woman in thy Heart,
+And talk'st of Snakes and Bugbears in the Dark,
+Till all is Horror and Amaze about thee,
+And even thy own Shadow makes thee tremble.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Is there no Courage in delib'rate Wisdom?
+Is all rank Cowardice but Fire and Fury?
+Is it all womanish to re-consider
+And weigh the Consequences of our Actions,
+Before we desperately rush upon them?
+Let me then be the Coward, a mere Woman,
+Mine be the Praise of Coolness, yours of Rage.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Peace, Peace, my Sons, nor let this casual Strife
+divide your Hearts; both mean the common Good;
+Go Hand in Hand to conquer and promote it.
+I'll to our worthy Doctor and the Priest,
+Who for our Souls' Salvation come from France;
+They sure can solve the Mysteries of Fate,
+And all the Secrets of a Dream explain;
+Mean while, Tenesco, warn the other Chiefs
+That they attend my Call within an Hour.
+                                       [_Exeunt PONTEACH and TENESCO._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+My Warmth perhaps has carried me too far,
+But it's not in me to be cool and backward
+To act or speak when Kingdoms are the Prize.
+My Blood runs high at the sweet Sound of Empire,
+Such as our Father's Plan ensures to us,
+And I'm impatient of the least Delay.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Thy Fire thou hast a Right to style a Virtue;
+Heat is our Friend when kept within due Bounds,
+But if unbridled and allowed to rage,
+It burns and blisters, torments and consumes,
+And, Torrent-like, sweeps every Comfort by.
+Think if our Father's Plan should prove abortive,
+Our Troops repuls'd, or in th' Encounter slain,
+Where are our conquer'd Kingdoms then to share,
+Where are our Vict'ries, Trophies, Triumphs, Crowns,
+That dazzle in thy Eye, and swell thy Heart;
+That nerve thy Arm, and wing thy Feet to War
+With this impetuous Violence and Speed?
+Crest-fallen then, our native Empire lost,
+In captive Chains we drag a wretched Life,
+Or fly inglorious from the conquering Foe
+To barren Mountains from this fertile Land,
+There to repent our Folly when too late,
+In Anguish mourn, and curse our wretched Fate.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+But why so much of Mischiefs that may happen?
+These are mere Possibilities at most;
+Creatures of Thought, which ne'er can be Objections,
+In valiant Minds, to any great Attempt;
+They're empty Echoes of a tim'rous Soul,
+Like Bubbles driv'n by the tempestuous Storm,
+The Breath of Resolution sweeps them off.
+Nor dost thou judge them solid from thy Heart,
+I know the secret Motive in thy Breast,
+Thus to oppose our Father's great Design,
+And from an Undertaking to dissuade,
+In which thou'lt share the Profit and the Glory.
+Hendrick, the King of Mohawks, hath a Daughter,
+With whom I saw you dallying in the Shade,
+And thought you then a Captive to her Charms.
+The bright Monelia hangs upon thy Heart,
+And softens all the Passions of thy Soul;
+Her thou think'st lost should we proclaim a War,
+In which the King her Father will not join.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What if I have a Value for Monelia,
+Is it a Crime? Does she not merit Love
+From all who see her move, or hear her speak?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+True, she is engaging, has a charming Air;
+And if thy Love is fix'd, I will assist it,
+And put thee in Possession of the Joy
+That thou desirest more than Crowns and Empire.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+As how, dear Philip? Should we wage a War,
+Which Hendrick disapproves, the Prize is lost.
+Not Empires then could make Monelia mine;
+All Hopes are dash'd upon that fatal Rock;
+Nor Gold, nor Prayers, nor Tears, nor Promises,
+Nor all the Engin'ry of Love at Work,
+Could save a single Moment of my Joy.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Yes, I will save it all and make her thine,
+Act but thy Part, and do as I prescribe,
+In Peace or War thou shalt possess the Prize.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Thy Words revive my half-despairing Heart.
+What must I act? or which Way must I turn?
+I'll brave all Dangers, every Ill defy,
+Risk Life itself, to call Monelia mine.
+Help me, my Philip, and I'll be thy Slave,
+Resign my Share of Empire to thy Hand,
+And lay a Claim to nothing but Monelia.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Rewards I do not ask; I am thy Brother,
+And hold my Kindness to thee as a Debt.
+Thou know'st I have engag'd to bring King Hendrick
+To join the Lists, and fight against our Foes,
+To rouse him to Revenge, and Rage, and War,
+And make him zealous in the common Cause.
+Nay, with uncommon Fury he shall rave,
+And urge his Warriors on to Blood and Murder.
+When this is done, Monelia may be thine,
+Hendrick will court Alliance to our Tribe,
+And joy to call great Ponteach's Son his own.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+But should you fail in these Attempts, and he
+Prove obstinately fix'd against the War,
+Where's then Monelia? where is Chekitan?
+My Hopes are blasted, all my Joys are fled,
+Like the vain Phantoms of a Midnight Dream,
+Are scattered like the Dust before a Whirlwind,
+And all my Soul is left a Void for Pain,
+Vexation, Madness, Frenzy, and Despair,
+And all the Pains of disappointed Love.
+Better I ne'er had flattered my fond Heart,
+Nor sooth'd my Mind with Prospects of my Joy,
+Than thus to perish on the Point of Hope.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Leave all to me; I've so concerted Matters,
+That I defy ev'n Fate to disappoint me.
+Exert thyself, and to Monelia go,
+Before th' assembled Chiefs in Council meet;
+Urge it to her, and to her Brother Torax,
+That should their Father prove refractory,
+Withdraw himself, and order his Domestics
+To hasten home at News of our Design;
+Urge it, I say, to them; Torax loves War;
+To linger here in Hopes of his Return,
+Which tell them I'll effect ere twice the Sun
+Has run the Circuit of his daily Race.
+Here they may loiter careless, range the Woods,
+As tho' the Noise of War had not been heard.
+This will give full Success to both our Wishes:
+Thou'lt gain the Prize of Love, and I of Wrath,
+In favour to our Family and State.
+Thou'lt tame the Turtle, I shall rouse the Tyger;
+The one will soothe thy Soul to soft Repose,
+The other prove a Terror to our Foes.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+I see the subtle Argument thou'lt use,
+And how thou'lt work upon the old King's Weakness,
+Thou'lt set his strong Affection for his Children
+At War against his Kindness for our Foes,
+By urging their Attachment to our Cause,
+That they'll endure ev'n Banishment and Death,
+Rather than cease to be our steadfast Friends.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+All this I'll urge, nay, more, I will convince him,
+These Foes to us can be no Friends to him;
+I'll thunder in his Ears their growing Power,
+Their Villainies and Cheats upon his Subjects:
+That their fair Shew of Love is foul Disguise;
+That in their Hearts they hate the Name of Indians,
+And court his Friendship only for their Profit;
+That when no longer he subserves their Ends,
+He may go whistle up some other Friends.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+This must alarm and bring him to our Mind.
+I'll hasten to my Charge with utmost Speed,
+Strain every Nerve, and every Power exert;
+Plead, promise, swear like any Christian Trader;
+But I'll detain them till our Ends are answer'd,
+And you have won their Father to our Purpose.                 [_Exit._
+
+PHILIP [_solus_].
+
+Oh! what a wretched Thing is a Man in Love!
+All Fear--all Hope--all Diffidence--all Faith--
+Distrusts the greatest Strength, depends on Straws--
+Soften'd, unprovident, disarm'd, unman'd,
+Led blindfold; every Power denies its Aid,
+And every Passion's but a Slave to this;
+Honour, Revenge, Ambition, Interest, all
+Upon its Altar bleed--Kingdoms and Crowns
+Are slighted and condemn'd, and all the Ties
+Of Nature are dissolv'd by this poor Passion:
+Once have I felt its Poison in my Heart,
+When this same Chekitan a Captive led
+The fair Donanta from the Illinois;
+I saw, admir'd, and lov'd the charming Maid,
+And as a Favour ask'd her from his Hands,
+But he refus'd and sold her for a Slave.
+My Love is dead, but my Resentment lives,
+And now's my Time to let the Flame break forth,
+For while I pay this ancient Debt of Vengeance,
+I'll serve my Country, and advance myself.
+He loves Monelia--Hendrick must be won--
+Monelia and her Brother both must bleed--
+This is my Vengeance on her Lover's Head--
+Then I'll affirm, 'twas done by Englishmen--
+And to gain Credit both with Friends and Foes,
+I'll wound myself, and say that I receiv'd it
+By striving to assist them in the Combat.
+This will rouse Hendrick's Wrath, and arm his Troops
+To Blood and Vengeance on the common Foe.
+And further still my Profit may extend;
+My Brother's Rage will lead him into Danger,
+And, he cut off, the Empire's all my own.
+Thus am I fix'd; my Scheme of Goodness laid,
+And I'll effect it, tho' thro' Blood I wade,
+To desperate Wounds apply a desperate Cure,
+And to tall Structures lay Foundations sure;
+To Fame and Empire hence my Course I bend,
+And every Step I take shall thither tend.
+
+_End of the Second Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Forest._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+[_Seeing TORAX and MONELIA, coming towards them._]
+
+As the young Hunter, anxious in the Chace,
+With beating Heart and quivering Hand espies
+The wish'd for Game, and trembles for th' Event,
+So I behold the bright Monelia's Steps,
+Whom anxiously I've sought, approach this way--
+What shall I say? or how shall I accost her?
+It is a fatal Minute to mistake in.
+The Joy or Grief of Life depends upon 't;
+It is the important Crisis of my Fate.
+I've thought a thousand things to say and do,
+But know not which to say or do the first.
+Shall I begin with my old Tale of Love?
+Or shall I shock her with the News of War?
+Must I put on the Face of Joy or Grief?
+Seem unconcern'd or full of Doubts and Fears?
+How unprepar'd I am for the Encounter!
+I'd rather stand against an Host of Foes--
+But she draws near, and Fate must guide me now,
+                                           [_Enter TORAX and MONELIA._
+Where tend your Steps with such an Air of Joy?
+
+TORAX.
+
+To view the Beauties of th' extended Lake,
+And on its mossy Bank recline at Ease,
+While we behold the Sports of Fish and Fowl,
+Which in this Calm no doubt will be diverting.
+And these are new Amusements to Monelia,
+She never saw the Sea or Lakes before.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+I'm glad our Country's aught to give such Pleasure
+To one deservedly so welcome in it.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+That I am welcome you have oft assur'd me,
+That I deserve it you may be mistaken,
+The outside Shew, the Form, the Dress, the Air,
+That please at first Acquaintance, oft deceive us,
+And prove more Mimickers of true Desert,
+Which always brightens by a further Trial,
+Appears more lovely as we know it better,
+At least can never suffer by Acquaintance.
+Perhaps then you To-morrow will despise
+What you esteem To-day, and call deserving.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+My Love to you, Monelia, cannot change.
+Your Beauty, like the Sun, for ever pleases,
+And like the Earth, my Love can never move.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+The Earth itself is sometimes known to shake,
+And the bright Sun by Clouds is oft conceal'd,
+And gloomy Night succeeds the Smiles of Day;
+So Beauty oft by foulest Faults is veil'd,
+And after one short Blaze admir'd no more,
+Loses its Lustre, drops its sparkling Charms,
+The Lover sickens, and his Passion dies.
+Nay, worse, he hates what he so doted on.
+Time only proves the Truth of Worth and Love,
+The one may be a Cheat, the other change,
+And Fears, and Jealousies, and mortal Hate,
+Succeed the Sunshine of the warmest Passion.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Have I not vow'd my Love to you, Monelia,
+And open'd all the Weakness of my Heart?
+You cannot think me false and insincere,
+When I repeat my Vows to love you still;
+Each time I see you move, or hear you speak,
+It adds fresh Fuel to the growing Flame.
+You're like the rising Sun, whose Beams increase
+As he advances upward to our View;
+We gaze with growing Wonder till we're blind,
+And every Beauty fades and dies but his.
+Thus shall I always view your growing Charm,
+And every Day and Hour with fresh Delight.
+Witness thou Sun and Moon, and Stars above,
+Witness ye purling Streams and quivering Lakes,
+Witness ye Groves and Hills, and Springs and Plains,
+Witness ye Shades, and the cool Fountain, where
+I first espied the Image of her Charms,
+And starting saw her on th' adjacent Bank,
+If I to my Monelia prove untrue.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Hoh! now your Talk is so much like a Christian's,
+That I must be excus'd if I distrust you,
+And think your fair Pretences all designing.
+I once was courted by a spruce young Blade,
+A lac'd Coat Captain, warlike, active, gay,
+Cockaded Hat and Medal on his Breast,
+And every thing was clever but his Tongue;
+He swore he lov'd, O! how he swore he lov'd,
+Call'd on his God and Stars to witness for him,
+Wish'd he might die, be blown to Hell and damn'd,
+If ever he lov'd woman so before:
+Call'd me his Princess, Charmer, Angel, Goddess,
+Swore nothing else was ever half so pretty,
+So dear, so sweet, so much to please his Taste,
+He kiss'd, he squeez'd, and press'd me to his Bosom,
+Vow'd nothing could abate his ardent Passion,
+Swore he should die, should drown, or hang himself,
+Could not exist if I denied his Suit,
+And said a thousand Things I cannot Name:
+My simple Heart, made soft by so much Heat,
+Half gave Consent, meaning to be his Bride.
+The Moment thus unguarded, he embrac'd,
+And impudently ask'd to stain my Virtue.
+With just Disdain I push'd him from my Arms,
+And let him know he'd kindled my Resentment;
+The Scene was chang'd from Sunshine to a Storm,
+Oh! then he curs'd, and swore, and damn'd, and sunk,
+Call'd me proud Bitch, pray'd Heav'n to blast my Soul,
+Wish'd Furies, Hell, and Devils had my Body,
+To say no more; bid me begone in Haste
+Without the smallest Mark of his Affection.
+This was an Englishman, a Christian Lover.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Would you compare an Indian Prince to those
+Whose Trade it is to cheat, deceive, and flatter?
+Who rarely speak the Meaning of their Hearts?
+Whose Tongues are full of Promises and Vows?
+Whose very Language is a downright Lie?
+Who swear and call on Gods when they mean nothing?
+Who call it complaisant, polite good Breeding,
+To say Ten thousand things they don't intend,
+And tell their nearest Friends the basest Falsehood?
+I know you cannot think me so perverse,
+Such Baseness dwells not in an Indian's Heart,
+And I'll convince you that I am no Christian.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Then do not swear, nor vow, nor promise much,
+An honest Heart needs none of this Parade;
+Its Sense steals softly to the list'ning Ear,
+And Love, like a rich Jewel we most value,
+When we ourselves by Chance espy its Blaze
+And none proclaims where we may find the Prize.
+Mistake me not, I don't impeach your Honour,
+Nor think you undeserving my Esteem;
+When our Hands join you may repeat your Love,
+But save these Repetitions from the Tongue.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Forgive me, if my Fondness is too pressing,
+'Tis Fear, 'tis anxious Fear, that makes it so.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+What do you fear? have I not said enough?
+Or would you have me swear some Christian Oath?
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+No, but I fear our Love will be oppos'd,
+Your Father will forbid our Hands to join.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+I cannot think it; you are Ponteach's Son,
+Heir to an Empire large and rich as his.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+True; but your Father is a Friend to Britons,
+And mine a Foe, and now is fix'd on War,
+Immediate War: This Day the Chiefs assemble,
+To raise the Hatchet, and to arm the Troops.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Then I must leave your Realm, and bid Adieu,
+In spite of your fond Passion, or my own;
+For I can never disoblige my Father,
+Though by it I were sure to gain an Empire.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Then Chekitan's undone, undone for ever.
+Unless your Father by kind Fate is mov'd
+To be our Friend, and join the Lists with mine.
+
+TORAX.
+
+Nothing would please me better; I love War,
+And think it time to curb the English Pride,
+And give a check to their increasing Power.
+The Land is ravag'd by their numerous Bands,
+And every Day they're growing more our Lords.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Are you sincere, or do you feign this Speech?
+
+TORAX.
+
+Indeed my Tongue does not bely my Heart;
+And but my Father's wrong-turn'd Policy
+Forbids, I'd instant join in War with you,
+And help to set new Limits to their Power.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+'Tis plain, if they proceed, nor you nor I
+Shall rule an Empire, or possess a Crown,
+Our Countries all will soon become a Prey
+To Strangers; we perhaps shall be their Slaves.
+But will your Father be convinc'd of this?
+
+TORAX.
+
+I doubt he'll not. The good old Man esteems
+And dotes upon them as most worthy Friends;
+I've told him often that he cherish'd Serpents,
+To bite his Children, and destroy his Friends.
+But this he calls the Folly of my Youth,
+Bids me be silent, show Respect to Age,
+Nor sow Sedition in my Father's Empire.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Stiff as he is, he yet may be subdued;
+And I've a Power prepar'd that will attack him.
+Should he refuse his Aid to our Design,
+Retire himself, and bid his Troops to follow,
+Yet Philip stands engag'd for his Return,
+Ere twice the Sun has ris'n and blest the Earth.
+Philip is eloquent, and so prepar'd,
+He cannot fail to bend him to our Purpose.
+You and Monelia have a Part to act;
+To linger here, should he in Haste retreat
+Till Philip follows and employs his Force.
+Your Stay will add new Life to the Design,
+And be of mighty Weight to gain Success.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+How shall we tarry midst the Noise of War,
+In Danger of our Lives from Friends and Foes;
+This will be deem'd a Madness by our Father,
+And will deserve his most severe Rebuke.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Myself will be a Sponsor for your Safety;
+And should your Father baffle our Attempts,
+Conduct you home from all the Noise of War,
+Where may you long in Peace and Plenty smile,
+While I return to mourn my hapless Fate.
+But should Success attend on Philip's Purpose.
+Your Father will not discommend your Stay,
+But smiling give new Vigour to the War;
+Which being ended, and our Foes subdu'd,
+The happy Fruits of Peace succeed to all,
+But we shall taste the greater Sweets of Love.
+
+TORAX.
+
+The Purport of our Stay is hid from me;
+But Philip's subtle, crafty as the Fox.
+We'll give full Scope to his enticing Art,
+And help him what we can to take the Prey.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+In your Protection then I trust myself,
+Nor will delay beyond th' appointed Term,
+Lest anxious Fears possess our Father's Heart,
+Or Mischiefs happen that incur his Anger.
+
+TORAX.
+
+It is agreed; we now pursue our Walk;
+Mean time consult what else may be of Use,
+You're pain'd with Love, and I'm in Pain for War.           [_Exeunt._
+
+CHEKITAN [_solus_].
+
+The Game is sure--Her Brother's on my Side--
+Her Brother and my own--My Force is strong--
+But could her Father now be rous'd to War,
+How should I triumph and defy even Fate?
+But Fortune favours all advent'rous Souls:
+I'll now to Philip; tell him my Success,
+And rouse up every Spark of Vigour in him:
+He will conceive fresh Hopes, and be more zealous.
+
+
+SCENE II. _PONTEACH'S Cabin._
+
+_PONTEACH, an Indian CONJURER, and French PRIEST._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Well! have you found the Secret of my Dream,
+By all your Cries, and Howls, and Sweats, and Prayers?
+Or is the Meaning still conceal'd from Man,
+And only known to Genii and the Gods?
+
+CONJURER.
+
+Two Hours I've lain within the sultry Stove,
+While Floods of Sweat ran trickling from my Skin;
+With Howls and Cries and all the Force of Sound
+Have I invok'd your Genius and my own,
+Smote on my Breast, and beat against my Head,
+To move an Answer, and the Secret learn.
+But all in vain, no Answer can I have,
+Till I first learn what secret Purposes
+And great Designs are brooding in your Mind.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+At our pure Virgin's Shrine I've bowed my Knees,
+And there in fervent Prayer pour'd out my Soul;
+Call'd on Saint Peter, call'd on all the Saints
+That know the Secrets both of Heaven and Earth,
+And can reveal what Gods themselves can do:
+I've us'd the Arts of our most holy Mother,
+Which I receiv'd when I forsook the World,
+And gave myself to Holiness and Heaven;
+But can't obtain the Secret of your Dream,
+Till I first know the Secrets of your Heart,
+Or what you hope or wish to be effected.
+'Tis on these Terms we learn the Will of God,
+What Good or Ill awaits on Kings or Kingdoms;
+And without this, St. Peter's Self can't tell,
+But at a Dream like yours would be confounded.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+You're well agreed--Our Gods are much alike--
+And I suspect both Rogues--What! won't they tell!
+Should they betray my Scheme, the whole is blown.
+And yet I fain would know. I'll charge them first.
+Look here; if I disclose a Secret to you,
+Tell it to none but silent honest Gods;
+Death to you both, if you reveal to Men.
+
+BOTH.
+
+We will, we will, the Gods alone shall know.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Know then that I have fix'd on speedy War,
+To drive these new Encroachers from my Country.
+For this I meant t' engage our several Tribes,
+And when our Foes are driven to their Bounds,
+That we may stand and hold our Rights secure,
+Unite our Strength under one common Head,
+Whom all these Petty Kings must own their Lord,
+Not even Hendrick's self shall be excused.
+This is my Purpose. Learn if it shall prosper,
+Or will it end in Infamy and Shame?
+
+CONJURER.
+
+[_Smiting on his breast, groaning, and muttering in his cloak or
+    blanket, falls down upon the ground, beats his head against it, and
+    pretends to listen: then rises, and says with a rumbling hideous
+    voice:_]
+
+Success and Victory shall attend your Arms;
+You are the mighty Elk that none can conquer,
+And all the Tribes shall own you for their King.
+Thus, say the Genii, does your Dream intend.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+[_Looking up to Heaven in a praying posture for a small space, says:_]
+
+Had I but known you was resolv'd on War,
+And War against those Heretics the English,
+I need not to have ask'd a God or Saint
+To signify the Import of your Dream.
+Your great Design shall have a prosperous End,
+'Tis by the Gods approv'd, and must succeed.
+Angels and Saints are dancing now in Heaven:
+Your Enemies are theirs, are hated by them,
+And they'll protect and help you as their Champion,          [_Aside._
+That fights their Battles, and defends their Cause.
+Our great St. Peter is himself a Warrior;
+He drew his Sword against such Infidels,
+And now, like him, you'll gain immortal Honour,
+And Gods in Heaven and Saints on Earth will praise you.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Gods and Genii do as you have said.
+I'll to the Chiefs, and hasten them to Arms.
+                                      [_Exeunt PONTEACH and CONJURER._
+
+PRIEST [_solus_].
+
+This, by St. Peter, goes as I would have it.
+The Conjurer agreed with me to pump him,
+Or else deny to solve his dubious Vision:
+But, that we've so agreed in our Responses,
+Is all mere Providence, and rul'd by Heaven,
+To give us further Credit with this Indian.
+Now he is fix'd--will wage immediate War--
+This will be joyful News in France and Rome,
+That Ponteach is in Arms, and won't allow
+The English to possess their new-gain'd Empire:
+That he has slain their Troops, destroy'd their Forts,
+Expell'd them from the Lakes to their old Limits:
+That he prefers the French, and will assist
+To repossess them of this fertile Land.
+By all the Saints, of this I'll make a Merit,
+Declare myself to be the wise Projector;
+This may advance me towards St. Peter's Chair,
+And these blind Infidels by Accident
+May have a Hand in making me a Pope--
+But stop--Won't this defeat my other Purpose?
+To gain the Mohawk Princess to my Wishes?
+No--by the holy Virgin, I'll surprise her,
+And have one hearty Revel in her Charms.
+But now I'll hasten to this Indian Council;
+I may do something there that's apropos.                      [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III. _An Indian Senate-House._
+
+_PONTEACH, TENESCO, PHILIP, ASTINACO, BEAR, WOLF, and French PRIEST._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Are all the Chiefs and Warriors here assembled,
+That we expect to honour this Day's Council?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+All are conven'd except the Mohawk King,
+Who, as we are inform'd, denies his Presence.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I've half succeeded with the stubborn Chief.
+He will not join in Council, but hath promised,
+Till further Notice, not to be our Foe:
+He'll see how we unite, and what Success
+Attends our Arms; in short, he gives strong Hints
+That he will soon befriend the common Cause.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Do what he will, 'tis this explains my Meaning;
+                                             [_Taking up the hatchet._
+You all are well appris'd of my Design,
+Which every passing Moment but confirms:
+Nay, my Heart's pain'd while I withhold my Hand
+From Blood and Vengeance on our hated Foes.
+Tho' I should stand alone, I'll try my Power
+To punish their Encroachments, Frauds, and Pride;
+Yet tho' I die, it is my Country's Cause,
+'Tis better thus to die than be despis'd;
+Better to die than be a Slave to Cowards,
+Better to die than see my Friends abus'd;
+The Aged scorn'd, the Young despis'd and spurn'd.
+Better to die than see my Country ruin'd,
+Myself, my Sons, my Friends reduc'd to Famine,
+Expell'd from hence to barren Rocks and Mountains,
+To curse our wretched Fate and pine in Want;
+Our pleasant Lakes and Fertile Lands usurp'd
+By Strangers, Ravagers, rapacious Christians.
+Who is it don't prefer a Death in War
+To this impending Wretchedness and Shame?
+Who is it loves his Country, Friends, or Self,
+And does not feel Resentment in his Soul?
+Who is it sees their growing Strength and Power,
+And how we waste and fail by swift Degrees,
+That does not think it Time to rouse and arm,
+And kill the Serpent ere we feel it sting,
+And fall the Victims of its painful Poison?
+Oh! could our Fathers from their Country see
+Their ancient Rights encroach'd upon and ravag'd,
+And we their Children slow, supine, and careless
+To keep the Liberty and Land they left us,
+And tamely fall a Sacrifice to Knaves!
+How would their Bosoms glow with patriot Shame,
+To see their Offspring so unlike themselves?
+They dared all Dangers to defend their Rights,
+Nor tamely bore an Insult from a Foe.
+Their plain rough Souls were brave and full of Fire,
+Lovers of War, nor knew the Pain of Fear.
+Rouse, then, ye Sons of ancient Heroes, rouse,
+Put on your Arms, and let us act a Part
+Worthy the Sons of such renowned Chiefs.
+Nor urge I you to Dangers that I shun,
+Or mean to act my Part by Words alone;
+This Hand shall wield the Hatchet in the Cause,
+These Feet pursue the frighted running Foe,
+This Body rush into the hottest Battle;
+There should I fall, I shall secure my Honour,
+And, dying, urge my Countrymen to Vengeance
+With more Success than all the Force of Words.
+Should I survive, I'll shed the foremost Tear
+O'er my brave Countrymen that chance to fall;
+I'll be the foremost to revenge their Blood,
+And, while I live, honour both them and theirs,
+I add no more, but wait to hear your Minds.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Tho' I'm a Warrior, and delight in Arms,
+Have oft with Pleasure heard the Sound of Battle,
+And oft return'd with Victory and Triumph;
+Yet I'm not fond to fight without just Cause,
+Or shed the Blood of Men for my Diversion;
+But I have seen, with my own Eyes I've seen,
+High Provocations from our present Foes,
+Their Pride and Insults, Knavery and Frauds,
+Their large Encroachments on our common Rights,
+Which every Day increase, are seen by all,
+And grown so common, they are disregarded.
+What calls on us more loudly for Revenge,
+Is their Contempt and Breach of public Faith.
+When we complain, they sometimes promise fair;
+When we grow restless, Treaties are propos'd,
+And Promises are gilded then with Presents.
+What is the End? Still the old Trade goes on;
+Their Colonels, Governors, and mighty Men,
+Cheat, lie, and break their solemn Promises,
+And take no care to have our Wrongs redress'd.
+Their King is distant, would he hear our Prayers:
+Still we've no other Way to come at Justice,
+But by our Arms to punish Wrongs like these,
+And Wrongs like these are national and public,
+Concern us all, and call for public Vengeance.
+And Wrongs like these are recent in our Minds.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Public or private Wrongs, no matter which.
+I think our Hunters ought to be reveng'd;
+Their Bodies are found torn by rav'nous Beasts,
+But who doubts they were kill'd by Englishmen?
+Their Heads are scalp'd, their Arms and Jewels gone,
+And Beasts of Prey can have no Use for these.
+No, they were murdered, slyly, basely shot,
+And who that has a Heart does not resent it?
+Oh! how I long to tear their mangled Limbs!
+Yes, I could eat their Hearts, and drink their Blood,
+And revel in their Torments, Pains, and Tortures;
+And, though I go alone, I'll seek Revenge.
+
+ASTINACO.
+
+This is the Fire and Madness of your Youth,
+And must be curb'd to do your Country Service.
+Facts are not always what they seem to be,
+And this perhaps may be the Fault of One
+Whom their Laws punish if you once detect him.
+Shall we then, to revenge your Countrymen,
+To recompense a Wrong by one committed,
+Rouse all to Arms, and make a general Slaughter?
+'Tis higher Motives move my Mind to War,
+And make me zealous in the common Cause.
+But hear me--'Tis no Trifle we're upon--
+If we have Wisdom, it must now be used;
+If we have Numbers, they must be united;
+If we have Strength, it must be all exerted;
+If we have Courage it must be inflamed,
+And every Art and Stratagem be practis'd:
+We've more to do than fright a Pigeon Roost,
+Or start a timorous Flock of running Deer;
+Yes, we've a strong, a warlike stubborn Foe,
+Unus'd to be repuls'd and quit the Field,
+Nay, flush'd with Victories and long Success,
+Their Numbers, Strength, and Courage all renown'd,
+'Tis little of them that you see or know.
+I've seen their Capital, their Troops and Stores,
+Their Ships, their Magazines of Death and Vengeance,
+And, what is more, I've seen their potent King,
+Who like a God sits over all the World,
+And thunders forth his Vengeance thro' the Earth.
+When he is pleas'd, Smiles sit upon his Face,
+And Goodness flows in Rivers at his Feet;
+When he's provok'd, 'tis like a fiery Tempest,
+All's Terror and Amazement in his Presence,
+And frighted Heroes trembling flee his Wrath.
+What then is to be done? what may we hope?
+At most, by secret, sly, and subtle Means
+To curb these vagrant Outcasts of his Subjects,
+Secure our Countries from their further Ravage,
+And make ourselves of more Importance to them,
+Perhaps procure a Peace to our Advantage.
+In this I'll join and head my valiant Troops,
+Who will not fail to act a valiant Part.
+
+THE BEAR.
+
+What is the Greatness of their King to us?
+What of his Strength or Wisdom? Shall we fear
+A Lion chain'd, or in another World?
+Or what avails his flowing Goodness to us?
+Does not the ravenous Tyger feed her Young?
+And the fierce Panther fawn upon his Mate?
+Do not the Wolves defend and help their Fellows,
+The poisonous Serpent feed her hissing Brood,
+And open wide her Mouth for their Protection?
+So this good King shows Kindness to his own,
+And favours them, to make a Prey of others;
+But at his Hands we may expect no Favour,
+Look back, my Friends, to our Forefathers' Time,
+Where is their Country? where their pleasant Haunts?
+The running Streams and shady Forests where?
+They chas'd the flying Game, and liv'd in Plenty.
+Lo, these proud Strangers now possess the Whole;
+Their Cities, Towns, and Villages arise,
+Forests are spoil'd, the Haunts of Game destroy'd,
+And all the Sea Coasts made one general Waste;
+Between the Rivers Torrent-like they sweep,
+And drive our Tribes toward the setting Sun.
+They who once liv'd on yon delightful Plains
+Are now no more, their very Name is lost.
+The Sons of potent Kings, subdu'd and murder'd,
+Are Vagrants, and unknown among their Neighbours.
+Where will the Ravage stop? the Ruin where?
+Does not the Torrent rush with growing Speed,
+And hurry us to the same wretched End?
+Let us grow wise then by our Fathers' Folly,
+Unite our Strength, too long it's been divided,
+And mutual Fears and Jealousies obtain'd:
+This has encourag'd our encroaching Foes,
+But we'll convince them, once, we dare oppose them.
+
+THE WOLF.
+
+Yet we have Strength by which we may oppose,
+But every Day this Strength declines and fails.
+Our great Forefathers, ere these Strangers came,
+Liv'd by the Chace, with Nature's Gifts content,
+The cooling Fountain quench'd their raging Thirst.
+Doctors, and Drugs, and Med'cines were unknown,
+Even Age itself was free from Pain and Sickness.
+Swift as the Wind, o'er Rocks and Hills they chas'd
+The flying Game, the bounding Stag outwinded,
+And tir'd the savage Bear, and tam'd the Tyger;
+At Evening feasted on the past Day's Toil,
+Nor then fatigu'd; the merry Dance and Song
+Succeeded; still with every rising Sun
+The Sport renew'd; or if some daring Foe
+Provok'd their Wrath, they bent the hostile Bow,
+Nor waited his Approach, but rush'd with Speed,
+Fearless of Hunger, Thirst, Fatigue, or Death.
+But we their soften'd Sons, a puny Race,
+Are weak in Youth, fear Dangers where they're not;
+Are weary'd with what was to them a Sport,
+Panting and breathless in One short Hour's Chace;
+And every Effort of our Strength is feeble.
+We're poison'd with the Infection of our Foes,
+Their very Looks and Actions are infectious,
+And in deep Silence spread Destruction round them.
+Bethink yourselves while any Strength remains;
+Dare to be like your Fathers, brave and strong,
+Nor further let the growing Poison spread.
+And would you stop it, you must resolve to conquer,
+Destroy their Forts and Bulwarks, burn their Towns,
+And keep them at a greater Distance from us.
+Oh! 'tis a Day I long have wish'd to see,
+And, aged as I am, my Youth returns
+To act with Vigour in so good a Cause.
+Yes, you shall see the old Wolf will not fail
+To head his Troops, and urge them on to Battle.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Your Minds are all for War, we'll not delay;
+Nor doubt but others gladly will comply,
+When they behold our Union and Success.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This Holy Priest has something to propose
+That may excite us all to greater Zeal.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Let him be heard: 'Tis something from his Gods,
+And may import the common Interest much.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+[_Coming from one side, where he hath stood listening._]
+
+'Tis not to shew my Eloquence of Speech,
+Or drown your Senses with unmeaning Sound,
+That I desire Admittance to your Council;
+It is an Impulse from the Gods that moves me,
+That what I say will be to your Advantage.
+Oh! With what secret Pleasure I behold
+So many wise and valiant Kings unite,
+And in a Cause by Gods and Saints espous'd.
+Heaven smiles on your Design, and it shall prosper.
+You're going to fight the Enemies of God;
+Rebels and Traitors to the King of Kings;
+Nay, those who once betray'd and kill'd his Son,
+Who came to save you Indians from Damnation--
+He was an Indian, therefore they destroy'd him;
+He rose again and took his flight to Heaven;
+But when his Foes are slain he'll quick return;
+And be your kind Protector, Friend, and King.
+Be therefore brave and fight his Battles for him;
+Spare not his Enemies, where-e'r you find 'em:
+The more you murder them, the more you please him;
+Kill all you captivate, both old and young,
+Mothers and Children, let them feel your Tortures;
+He that shall kill a Briton, merits Heaven.
+And should you chance to fall, you'll be convey'd
+By flying Angels to your King that's there
+Where these your hated Foes can never come.
+Doubt you the Truth of this my Declaration?
+I have a Witness here that cannot lie. [_Pulling out a burning glass._
+This Glass was touch'd by your great Saviour's Hand,
+And after left in holy Peter's Care;
+When I command, it brings down Fire from Heaven,
+To witness for me that I tell no Lie.
+                                 [_The INDIANS gather round and gaze._
+Behold--Great God, send Fire, convince these Indian Kings
+That I'm thy Servant, and report the Truth,
+                 [_In a very praying posture and solemn canting tone._
+Am sent to teach them what they ought to do,
+To kill and scalp, to torture and torment
+Thy murderous treacherous Foes, the hateful English.
+        [_It takes fire; the INDIANS are amaz'd, and retreat from it._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Who now can doubt the Justice of our Cause,
+Or this Man's Mission from the King above,
+And that we ought to follow his Commands?
+
+ASTINACO.
+
+'Tis wonderful indeed--It must be so--
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This cannot be a Cheat--It is from Heaven--
+
+ALL.
+
+We are convinc'd and ready to obey;
+We are impatient to revenge our King.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+[_Takes up the bloody hatchet and flourishes it round._]
+
+Thus do I raise the Hatchet from the Ground,
+Sharpen'd and bright may it be stain'd with Blood,
+And never dull'd nor rusted till we've conquer'd,
+And taught proud Englishmen to dread its Edge.
+
+ALL.
+
+[_Flourishing their hatchets, and striking them upon a block._]
+
+Thus will we hew and carve their mangled Bodies,
+And give them to the Beasts and Birds for Food.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+And thus our Names and Honours will maintain
+While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Trees remain;
+Our unborn Children shall rejoice to hear
+How we their Fathers made the English fear.
+
+THE WAR SONG.
+
+_To the tune of "Over the Hills and far away," sung by TENESCO, the
+    head warrior. They all join in the Chorus, and dance, while that is
+    singing, in a circle round him; and during the Chorus the music
+    plays._
+
+    Where-e'r the Sun displays his Light,
+    Or Moon is seen to shine by Night,
+    Where-e'r the noisy Rivers flow
+    Or Trees and Grass and Herbage grow.--_Chorus._
+
+    Be 't known that we this War begin
+    With proud insulting Englishmen;
+    The Hatchet we have lifted high,     [_Holding up their hatchets._
+    And them we'll conquer or we'll die.--_Chorus._
+
+    The Edge is keen, the Blade is bright,
+    Nothing saves them but their Flight;
+    And then like Heroes we'll pursue,
+    Over the Hills and Valleys through.--_Chorus._
+
+    They'll like frighted Women quake,
+    When they behold a hissing Snake;
+    Or like timorous Deer away,
+    And leave both Goods and Arms a Prey.--_Chorus._
+
+    Pain'd with Hunger, Cold, or Heat,
+    In Haste they'll from our Land retreat;
+    While we'll employ our scalping Knives--
+                     [_Drawing and flourishing their scalping knives._
+    Take off their Skulls, and spare their Lives.--_Chorus._
+
+    Or in their Country they'll complain,
+    Nor ever dare return again;
+    Or if they should they'll rue the Day,
+    And curse the Guide that shew'd the Way.--_Chorus._
+
+    If Fortune smiles, we'll not be long
+    Ere we return with Dance and Song,
+    But ah! if we should chance to die,
+    Dear Wives and Children do not cry.--_Chorus._
+
+    Our Friends will ease your Grief and Woe,
+    By double Vengeance on the Foe;
+    Will kill, and scalp, and shed their Blood,
+    Where-e'r they find them thro' the Wood.--_Chorus._
+
+    No pointing Foe shall ever say
+    'Twas there the vanquish'd Indian lay;
+    Or boasting to his Friends relate
+    The Tale of our unhappy Fate.--_Chorus._
+
+    Let us with Courage then away
+    To hunt and seize the frighted Prey;
+    Nor think of Children, Friend, or Wife,
+    While there's an Englishman alive.--_Chorus._
+
+    In Heat and Cold, thro' Wet and Dry,
+    Will we pursue, and they shall fly
+    To Seas which they a Refuge think,
+    And there in wretched Crowds they'll sink.--_Chorus._
+                                              [_Exeunt omnes singing._
+
+_The End of the Third Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _The Border of a Grove._
+
+_Enter TENESCO to PHILIP and CHEKITAN._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Troops are all assembled, some have march'd,
+Perhaps are now engag'd, and warm in Battle;
+The rest have Orders where to bend their Course.
+Each Tribe is headed by a valiant Chief,
+Except the Bulls which fall to one of you;
+The other stays to serve the State at home,
+Or back us, should our Forces prove too weak.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+The Bulls are brave, had they a brave Commander,
+They'd push the Battle home with sure Success.
+I'd choose of all the Troops to be their Leader;
+For tho' I'd neither Courage, Skill, nor Strength,
+Honour attends the Man who heads the Brave;
+Many are dubb'd for Heroes in these Times,
+Who owe their Fame to those whom they commanded.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+But we shall ne'er suspect your Title false;
+Already you've confirm'd your Fame and Courage,
+And prov'd your Skill and Strength as a Commander.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Still I'll endeavour to deserve your Praise,
+Nor long delay the Honour you propose.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+But this will interfere with your Design,
+And oversets the Scheme of winning Hendrick.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Ah true--and kills your Hope--This Man 's in Love.      [_To TENESCO._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Indeed! In Love with whom? King Hendrick's Daughter?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+The same; and I've engag'd to win her Father.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This may induce him to espouse our Cause,
+Which likewise you engag'd should be effected.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+But then I can't command as was propos'd,
+I must resign that Honour to this Lover,
+While I conduct and form this double Treaty.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I am content if you but please yourselves
+By Means and Ways not hurtful to the Public.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Was not the Public serv'd, no private Ends
+Would tempt me to detain him from the Field,
+Or in his stead propose myself a Leader;
+But every Power I have shall be exerted:
+And if in Strength or Wisdom I should fail,
+I dare presume you'll ever find me faithful.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I doubt it not--You'll not delay your Charge;
+The Troops are all impatient for the Battle.
+                                         [_Exeunt TENESCO and PHILIP._
+
+CHEKITAN [_solus_].
+
+This is not to my Mind--But I must do it--
+If Philip heads the Troops, my Hopes are blown--
+I must prepare, and leave the Event to Fate
+And him--'Tis fix'd--There is no other Choice;
+Monelia I must leave, and think of Battles--
+She will be safe--But, Oh! the Chance of War--
+Perhaps I fall--and never see her more--
+This shocks my Soul in spite of Resolution--
+The bare Perhaps is more than Daggers to me--
+To part for ever! I'd rather stand against
+Embattled Troops than meet this single Thought;
+A Thought in Poison dipp'd and pointed round;
+Oh! how it pains my doubting trembling Heart!
+I must not harbour it--My Word is gone--
+My Honour calls--and, what is more, my Love.
+                        [_Noise of MONELIA striving behind the scene._
+What Sound is that?--It is Monelia's Voice;
+And in Distress--What Monster gives her Pain?
+          [_Going towards the sound, the Scene opens and discovers the
+           PRIEST with her._
+
+
+SCENE II. _MONELIA and PRIEST._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What do I see? The holy Priest is with her.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+[_Struggling with the PRIEST, and trying to disengage herself._]
+
+No, I would sooner die than be dishonour'd--
+Cut my own Throat, or drown me in the Lake.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+Do you love Indians better than us white Men?
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Nay, should an Indian make the foul Attempt,
+I'd murder him, or kill my wretched Self.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+I must I can, and will enjoy you now.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+You must! You sha'n't, you cruel, barbarous Christian.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Hold, thou mad Tyger--What Attempt is this?            [_Seizing him._
+Are you a Christian Priest? What do you here?           [_Pushes him._
+What was his Will, Monelia? He is dumb.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+May he be dumb and blind, and senseless quite,
+That had such brutal Baseness in his Mind.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Base false Deceiver, what could you intend?     [_Making towards him._
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Oh I am faint--You have preserv'd my Honour,
+Which he, foul Christian, thirsted to destroy.
+                                             [_PRIEST attempts to go._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Stay; leave your Life to expiate your Crime:
+Your heated Blood shall pay for your Presumption.
+                             [_Offering to strike him with a hatchet._
+
+PRIEST.
+
+Good Prince, forbear your pious Hand from Blood;
+I did not know you was this Maiden's Lover,
+I took her for a Stranger, half your Foe.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Did you not know she was King Hendrick's Daughter?
+Did you not know that she was not your Wife?
+Have you not told us, holy Men like you
+Are by the Gods forbid all fleshly Converse?
+Have you not told us, Death, and Fire, and Hell
+Await those who are incontinent,
+Or dare to violate the Rites of Wedlock?
+That your God's Mother liv'd and died a Virgin,
+And thereby set Example to her Sex?
+What means all this? Say you such Things to us,
+That you alone may revel in these Pleasures?
+
+PRIEST.
+
+I have a Dispensation from St. Peter
+To quench the Fire of Love when it grows painful.
+This makes it innocent like Marriage Vows;
+And all our holy Priests, and she herself,
+Commit no Sin in this Relief of Nature:
+For, being holy, there is no Pollution
+Communicated from us as from others;
+Nay, Maids are holy after we've enjoy'd them,
+And, should the Seed take Root, the Fruit is pure.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Oh vain Pretense! Falsehood and foul Deception!
+None but a Christian could devise such Lies!
+Did I not fear it might provoke your Gods,
+Your Tongue should never frame Deceit again.
+If there are Gods, and such as you have told us,
+They must abhor all Baseness and Deceit,
+And will not fail to punish Crimes like yours.
+To them I leave you--But avoid my Presence,
+Nor let me ever see your hated Head,
+Or hear your lying Tongue within this Country.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+Now by St. Peter I must go--He's raging.                     [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+That Day I do, by your great dreadful God,
+This Hand shall cleave your Head, and spill your Blood,
+Not all your Prayers, and Lies, and Saints shall save you.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+I've got his Father's Secret, and will use it.
+Such Disappointment ought to be reveng'd.                    [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Don't mutter here, and conjure up your Saints,
+I value not their Curses, or your Prayers.
+                          [_Stepping towards the PRIEST to hurry him._
+
+PRIEST.
+
+By all the Saints, young Man, thou shalt repent it.           [_Exit._
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Base, false Dissembler--Tyger, Snake, a Christian!
+I hate the Sight; I fear the very Name.
+O Prince, what has not your kind Presence sav'd me!
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+It sav'd to me more than my Father's Empire;
+Far more than Crowns and Worlds--It sav'd Monelia,
+The Hope of whom is more than the Creation.
+In this I feel the Triumph of an Hero,
+And glory more than if I'd conquer'd Kingdoms.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Oh, I am thine, I'm more than ever thine;
+I am your Captive now, your lawful Prize:
+You've taken me in War, a dreadful War!
+And snatch'd me from the hungry Tyger's Jaw.
+More than my Life and Service is your Due,
+And had I more I would devote it to you.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+O my Monelia! rich is my Reward,
+Had I lost Life itself in the Encounter;
+But still I fear that Fate will snatch you from me.
+Where is your Brother? Why was you alone?
+
+_Enter TORAX, from listening to their discourse._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Here am I: What would you of me?
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Torax!
+I've been assaulted by a barbarous Man,
+And by mere Accident escap'd my Ruin.
+
+TORAX.
+
+What Foe is here? The English are not come?
+
+MONELIA.
+
+No: But a Christian lurk'd within the Grove,
+And every Christian is a Foe to Virtue;
+Insidious, subtle, cruel, base, and false!
+Like Snakes, their very Eyes are full of Poison;
+And where they are not, Innocence is safe.
+
+TORAX.
+
+The holy Priest! Is he so vile a Man?
+I heard him mutter Threat'nings as I past him.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+I spar'd his guilty Life, but drove him hence,
+On Pain of Death and Tortures, never more
+To tread the Earth, or breathe the Air with me.
+Be warn'd by this to better tend your Charge.
+You see how Mischiefs lie conceal'd about us,
+We tread on Serpents ere we hear them hiss,
+And Tygers lurk to seize the incautious Prey.
+I must this Hour lead forth my Troops to Battle,
+They're now in Arms, and waiting my Command.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+What Safety shall I have when you are gone?
+I must not, cannot, will not longer tarry,
+Lest other Christians, or some other Foe,
+Attempt my Ruin.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Torax will be your Guard.
+My Honour suffers, should I now decline;
+It is my Country's Cause; I've pawn'd my Word,
+Prevented Philip, to make sure of you.
+He stays. 'Tis all in favour to our Love;
+We must at present please ourselves with Hopes.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Oh! my fond Heart no more conceals its Flame;
+I fear, my Prince, I fear our Fates are cruel:
+There's something whispers in my anxious Breast,
+That if you go, I ne'er shall see you more.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Oh! how her Words unman and melt my Soul!
+As if her Fears were Prophecies of Fate.                     [_Aside._
+I will not go and leave you thus in Fears;
+I'll frame Excuses--Philip shall command--
+I'll find some other Means to turn the King;
+I'll venture Honour, Fortune, Life, and Love,
+Rather than trust you from my Sight again.
+For what avails all that the World can give?
+If you're withheld, all other Gifts are Curses,
+And Fame and Fortune serve to make me wretched.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Now you grow wild--You must not think of staying;
+Our only Hope, you know, depends on Philip.
+I will not fear, but hope for his Success,
+And your Return with Victory and Triumph,
+That Love and Honour both may crown our Joy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Now this is kind; I am myself again.
+You had unman'd and soften'd all my Soul,
+Disarm'd my Hand, and cowardiz'd my Heart:
+But now in every Vein I feel an Hero,
+Defy the thickest Tempest of the War:
+Yes, like a Lion conscious of his Strength,
+Fearless of Death I'll rush into the Battle;
+I'll fight, I'll conquer, triumph and return;
+Laurels I'll gain and lay them at your Feet.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+May the Success attend you that you wish!
+May our whole Scheme of Happiness succeed!
+May our next Meeting put an End to Fear,
+And Fortune shine upon us in full Blaze!
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+May Fate preserve you as her Darling Charge!
+May all the Gods and Goddesses, and Saints,
+If conscious of our Love, turn your Protectors!
+And the great thundering God with Lightning burn
+Him that but means to interrupt your Peace.                 [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III. _Indian Senate-House._
+
+_PONTEACH and PHILIP._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Say you that Torax then is fond of War?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+He is, and waits impatient my Return.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+'Tis friendly in you thus to help your Brother;
+But I suspect his Courage in the Field;
+A love-sick Boy makes but a cow'rdly Captain.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+His Love may spur him on with greater Courage;
+He thinks he's fighting for a double Prize;
+And but for this, and Hopes of greater Service
+In forwarding the Treaty with the Mohawk,
+I now had been in Arms and warm in Battle.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I much commend the Wisdom of your Stay.
+Prepare yourself, and hasten to his Quarters;
+You cannot make th' Attempt with too much Speed.
+Urge ev'ry Argument with Force upon him,
+Urge my strong Friendship, urge your Brother's Love,
+His Daughter's Happiness, the common Good;
+The general Sense of all the Indian Chiefs,
+The Baseness of our Foes, our Hope of Conquest;
+The Richness of the Plunder if we speed;
+That we'll divide and share it as he pleases;
+That our Success is certain if he joins us.
+Urge these, and what besides to you occurs;
+All cannot fail, I think, to change his Purpose.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+You'd think so more if you knew all my Plan.                 [_Aside._
+I'm all prepar'd now I've receiv'd your Orders,
+But first must speak t' his Children ere I part,
+I am to meet them in the further Grove.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Hark! there's a Shout--We've News of some Success;
+It is the Noise of Victory and Triumph.          [_Enter a MESSENGER._
+
+MESSENGER.
+
+Huzza! for our brave Warriors are return'd
+Loaded with Plunder and the Scalps of Christians.   [_Enter WARRIORS._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What have you done? Why all this Noise and Shouting?
+
+1ST WARRIOR.
+
+Three Forts are taken, all consum'd and plunder'd;
+The English in them all destroy'd by Fire,
+Except some few escap'd to die with Hunger.
+
+2ND WARRIOR.
+
+We've smok'd the Bear in spite of all his Craft,
+Burnt up their Den, and made them take the Field:
+The mighty Colonel Cockum and his Captain
+Have dull'd our Tomhocks; here are both their Scalps:
+                                        [_Holding out the two scalps._
+Their Heads are split, our Dogs have eat their Brains.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+If that be all they've eat, the Hounds will starve.
+
+3RD WARRIOR.
+
+These are the scalps of those two famous Cheats
+Who bought our Furs for Rum, and sold us Water.
+                      [_Holding out the scalps, which PONTEACH takes._
+Our Men are loaded with their Furs again,
+And other Plunder from the Villains' Stores.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+All this is brave!    [_Tossing up the scalps, which others catch, and
+                       toss and throw them about._
+This Way we'll serve them all.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+We'll cover all our Cabins with their Scalps.
+
+WARRIORS.
+
+We'll fat our Dogs upon their Brains and Blood.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Ere long we'll have their Governors in Play.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+And knock their grey-wig'd Scalps about this Way.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Game is started; Warriors, hunt away,
+Nor let them find a Place to shun your Hatchets.
+
+ALL WARRIORS.
+
+We will: We will soon shew you other Scalps.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Bring some alive; I long to see them dance
+In Fire and Flames, it us'd to make them caper.
+
+WARRIORS.
+
+Such Sport enough you'll have before we've done.            [_Exeunt._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+This still will help to move the Mohawk King.
+Spare not to make the most of our Success.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Trust me for that--Hark; there's another Shout;   [_Shouting without._
+A Shout for Prisoners--Now I have my Sport.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+It is indeed; and there's a Number too.
+
+_Enter WARRIORS._
+
+1ST WARRIOR.
+
+We've broke the Barrier, burnt their Magazines,
+Slew Hundreds of them, and pursu'd the rest
+Quite to their Settlements.
+
+2ND WARRIOR.
+
+There we took
+Their famous Hunters Honnyman and Orsbourn:
+The last is slain, this is his bloody Scalp.         [_Tossing it up._
+With them we found the Guns of our lost Hunters,
+And other Proofs that they're the Murderers;
+Nay, Honnyman confesses the base Deed,
+And, boasting, says, he's kill'd a Score of Indians.
+
+3RD WARRIOR.
+
+This is the bloody Hunter: This his Wife;
+                  [_Leading them forward, pinioned and tied together._
+With two young Brats that will be like their Father.
+We took them in their Nest, and spoil'd their Dreams.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Oh I could eat their Hearts, and drink their Blood,
+Were they not Poison, and unfit for Dogs.
+Here, you Blood-hunter, have you lost your Feeling?
+You Tygress Bitch! You Breeder up of Serpents!
+               [_Slapping HONNYMAN in the face, and kicking his wife._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Stop--We must first consult which way to torture.
+And whether all shall die--We will retire.
+
+PHILIP [_going_].
+
+Take care they don't escape.
+
+WARRIOR.
+
+They're bound secure.             [_Exeunt INDIANS; manent PRISONERS._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, Honnyman, how desperate is our Case!
+There's not a single Hope of Mercy left:
+How savage, cruel, bloody did they look!
+Rage and Revenge appear'd in every Face.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+You may depend upon 't, we all must die,
+I've made such Havoc, they'll have no Compassion;
+They only wait to study out new Torments:
+All that can be inflicted or endur'd,
+We may expect from their relentless Hands.
+Their brutal Eyes ne'er shed a pitying Tear;
+Their savage Hearts ne'er had a Thought of Mercy;
+Their Bosoms swell with Rancour and Revenge,
+And, Devil-like, delight in others' Plagues,
+Love Torments, Torture, Anguish, Fire, and Pain,
+The deep-fetch'd Groan, the melancholy Sigh,
+And all the Terrors and Distress of Death,
+These are their Music, and enhance their Joy.
+In Silence then submit yourself to Fate:
+Make no Complaint, nor ask for their Compassion;
+This will confound and half destroy their Mirth;
+Nay, this may put a stop to many Tortures,
+To which our Prayers and Tears and Plaints would move them.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, dreadful Scene! Support me, mighty God,
+To pass the Terrors of this dismal Hour,
+All dark with Horrors, Torments, Pains, and Death!
+Oh, let me not despair of thy kind Help;
+Give Courage to my wretched, groaning Heart!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Tush, Silence! You'll be overheard.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, my dear Husband! 'Tis an Hour for Prayer,
+An Infidel would pray in our Distress:
+An Atheist would believe there was some God
+To pity Pains and Miseries so great.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+If there's a God, he knows our secret Wishes;
+This Noise can be no Sacrifice to him;
+It opens all the Springs of our weak Passions.
+Besides, it will be Mirth to our Tormentors;
+They'll laugh, and call this Cowardice in Christians
+And say Religion makes us all mere Women.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+I will suppress my Grief in Silence then,
+And secretly implore the Aid of Heaven.
+Forbid to pray! Oh, dreadful Hour indeed!                  [_Pausing._
+Think you they will not spare our dear sweet Babes?
+Must these dear Innocents be put to Tortures,
+Or dash'd to Death, and share our wretched Fate?
+Must this dear Babe that hangs upon my Breast
+                                           [_Looking upon her infant._
+Be snatch'd by savage Hands and torn in Pieces!
+Oh, how it rends my Heart! It is too much!
+Tygers would kindly soothe a Grief like mine;
+Unconscious Rocks would melt, and flow in Tears
+At this last Anguish of a Mother's Soul.
+                                 [_Pauses, and views her child again._
+Sweet Innocent! It smiles at this Distress,
+And fondly draws this final Comfort from me:
+Dear Babe, no more: Dear Tommy too must die,
+                                        [_Looking at her other child._
+Oh, my sweet First-born! Oh, I'm overpower'd.              [_Pausing._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I had determin'd not to shed a Tear;                       [_Weeping._
+But you have all unman'd my Resolution;
+You've call'd up all the Father in my Soul;
+Why have you nam'd my Children? Oh, my Son!       [_Looking upon him._
+My only Son--My Image--Other Self!
+How have I doted on the charming Boy,
+And fondly plann'd his Happiness in Life!
+Now his Life ends: Oh, the Soul-bursting Thought!
+He falls a Victim for his Father's Folly.
+Had I not kill'd their Friends, they might have spar'd
+My Wife, my Children, and perhaps myself,
+And this sad, dreadful Scene had never happen'd.
+But 'tis too late that I perceive my Folly;
+If Heaven forgive, 'tis all I dare to hope for.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+What! have you been a Murderer indeed!
+And kill'd the Indians for Revenge and Plunder?
+I thought you rash to tempt their brutal Rage,
+But did not dream you guilty as you said.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I am indeed. I murder'd many of them,
+And thought it not amiss, but now I fear.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+O shocking Thought! Why have you let me know
+Yourself thus guilty in the Eye of Heaven?
+That I and my dear Babes were by you brought
+To this Extreme of Wretchedness and Woe?
+Why have you let me know the solemn Weight
+Of horrid Guilt that lies upon us all?
+To have died innocent, and seen these Babes
+By savage Hands dash'd to immortal Rest,
+This had been light, for this implies no Crime:
+But now we die as guilty Murderers,
+Not savage Indians, but just Heaven's Vengeance
+Pursues our Lives with all these Pains and Tortures.
+This is a Thought that points the keenest Sorrow,
+And leaves no Room for Anguish to be heighten'd.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Upbraid me not, nor lay my Guilt to Heart;
+You and these Fruits of our past Morning Love
+Are innocent. I feel the Smart and Anguish,
+The Stings of Conscience, and my Soul on Fire.
+There's not a Hell more painful than my Bosom,
+Nor Torments for the Damn'd more keenly pointed.
+How could I think to murder was no Sin?
+Oh, my lost Neighbour! I seduc'd him too.
+Now death with all its Terrors disappears,
+And all I fear 's a dreadful Something-after;
+My Mind forebodes a horrid, woful Scene,
+Where Guilt is chain'd and tortur'd with Despair.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+The Mind oppress'd with Guilt may find Relief.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, could I reach the pitying Ear of Heaven,
+And all my Soul evaporate in Sound,
+'T would ask Forgiveness! but I fear too late;
+And next I'd ask that you and these dear Babes
+Might bear no Part in my just Punishment.
+Who knows but by pathetic Prayers and Tears
+Their savage Bosoms may relent towards you,
+And fix their Vengeance where just Heaven points it?
+I still will hope, and every Motive urge.
+Should I succeed, and melt their rocky Hearts,
+I'd take it as a Presage of my Pardon,
+And die with Comfort when I see you live.
+                                     [_Death halloo is heard without._
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Hark! they are coming--Hear that dreadful Halloo.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+It is Death's solemn Sentence to us all;
+They are resolv'd, and all Entreaty's vain.
+Oh horrid Scene! how shall I act my Part?
+Was it but simple Death to me alone!
+But all your Deaths are mine, and mine the Guilt.
+
+_Enter INDIANS with stakes, hatchets, and firebrands._
+
+Oh, horrid Preparation, more than Death!
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Plant down the Stakes, and let them be confin'd:
+                                   [_They loose them from each other._
+First kill the Tygers, then destroy their Whelps.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+This Brat is in our Way, I will dispatch it.
+                             [_Offering to snatch the sucking infant._
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+No, my dear Babe shall in my Bosom die;
+There is its Nourishment, and there its End.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Die both together then, 'twill mend the Sport;
+Tie the other to his Father, make a Pair;
+Then each will have a Consort in their Pains;
+Their sweet Brats with them, to increase the Dance.
+         [_They are tied down, facing each other upon their knees, and
+          their backs to the stakes._
+
+WARRIOR.
+
+All now is ready; they are bound secure.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Whene'er you please, their jovial Dance begins.        [_To PONTEACH._
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, my dear Husband! What a Sight is this!
+Could ever fabling Poet draw Distress
+To such Perfection! Sad Catastrophe!
+There are not Colours for such deep-dyed Woe,
+Nor words expressive of such heighten'd Anguish.
+Ourselves, our Babes, O cruel, cruel Fate!
+This, this is Death indeed with all its Terrors.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Is there no secret Pity in your Minds?
+Can you not feel some tender Passion move,
+When you behold the Innocent distress'd?
+True, I am guilty, and will bear your Tortures:
+Take your Revenge by all the Arts of Torment;
+Invent new Torments, lengthen out my Woe,
+And let me feel the keenest Edge of Pain:
+But spare this innocent afflicted Woman,
+Those smiling Babes who never yet thought Ill,
+They never did nor ever will offend you.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+It cannot be: They are akin to you.
+Well learnt to hunt and murder, kill and rob.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Who ever spar'd a Serpent in the Egg?
+Or left young Tygers quiet in their Den?
+
+WARRIOR.
+
+Or cherishes young Vipers in his Bosom?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Begin, begin; I'll lead the merry Dance.
+                            [_Offering at the woman with a firebrand._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Stop: Are we not unwise to kill this Woman?
+Or Sacrifice her Children to our Vengeance?
+They have not wrong'd us; can't do present Mischief.
+I know her Friends; they're rich and powerful,
+And in their Turn will take severe Revenge:
+But if we spare, they'll hold themselves oblig'd,
+And purchase their Redemption with rich Presents.
+Is not this better than an Hour's Diversion,
+To hear their Groans, and Plaints, and piteous Cries?
+
+WARRIORS.
+
+Your Counsel's wise, and much deserves our Praise;
+They shall be spar'd.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Untie, and take them hence;
+            [_They untie the woman and the oldest child from HONNYMAN,
+             and retire a little to consult his death._
+When the War ends her Friends shall pay us for it.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I'd rather have the Sport than all the Pay.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+O, now, kind Heaven, thou hast heard my Prayer,
+And what's to follow I can meet with Patience.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, my dear husband, could you too be freed!               [_Weeping._
+Yet must I stay and suffer Torments with you.
+This seeming Mercy is but Cruelty!
+I cannot leave you in this Scene of Woe,
+'Tis easier far to stay and die together!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Ah! but regard our Children's Preservation:
+Conduct their Youth, and form their Minds to Virtue;
+Nor let them know their Father's wretched End,
+Lest lawless Vengeance should betray them too.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+If I must live, I must retire from hence,
+Nor see your fearful Agonies in Death;
+This would be more than all the Train of Torments.
+The horrid Sight would sink me to the Dust;
+These helpless Infants would become a Prey
+To worse than Beasts, to savage, bloody Men.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Leave me--They are prepar'd, and coming on--
+Heav'n save you all! Oh, 'tis the last dear Sight!
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, may we meet where Fear and Grief are banish'd!
+Dearest of Men, adieu--Adieu till then.
+                                   [_Exit, weeping with her children._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Bring Fire and Knives, and Clubs, and Hatchets all;
+Let the old Hunter feel the Smart of Pain.
+       [_They fall upon HONNYMAN with various instruments of torture._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh! this is exquisite!                     [_Groaning and struggling._
+
+1ST WARRIOR.
+
+Hah! Does this make you dance?
+
+2ND WARRIOR.
+
+This is fine fat Game!
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Make him caper.              [_Striking him with a club, kicking, &c._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+O ye eternal Powers, that rule on high,
+If in your Minds be Sense of human Woe,
+Hear my Complaints, and pity my Distress!
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Ah, call upon your Gods, you faint-heart Coward!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, dreadful Racks! When will this Torment end?
+Oh, for a Respite from all Sense of Pain!
+'Tis come--I go--You can--no more torment.                    [_Dies._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+He's dead; he'll hunt no more; h' 'as done with Game.
+                  [_Striking the dead body, and spitting in the face._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Drive hence his wretched Spirit, lest it plague us;
+Let him go hunt the Woods; he's now disarm'd.
+    [_They run round brushing the walls, &c., to dislodge the spirit._
+
+ALL.
+
+Out, Hunter, out, your Business here is done.
+Out to the Wilds, but do not take your Gun.
+
+PONTEACH [_to the Spirit_].
+
+Go, tell our Countrymen, whose Blood you shed,
+That the great Hunter Honnyman is dead:
+That we're alive, we'll make the English know,
+Whene'er they dare to serve us Indians so:
+This will be joyful News to Friends from France,
+We'll join the Chorus then, and have a Dance.
+             [_Exeunt omnes, dancing, and singing the last two lines._
+
+_End of the Fourth Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _The Border of a Grove, in which MONELIA and TORAX are
+asleep._
+
+_Enter PHILIP [speaking to himself]._
+
+As a dark Tempest brewing in the Air,
+For many Days hides Sun and Moon, and Stars,
+At length grown ripe, bursts forth and forms a Flood
+That frights both Men and Beasts, and drowns the Land;
+So my dark Purpose now must have its Birth,
+Long nourish'd in my Bosom, 'tis matur'd,
+And ready to astonish and embroil
+Kings and their Kingdoms, and decide their Fates.
+Are they not here? Have I delay'd too long?  [_He espies them asleep._
+Yes, in a Posture too beyond my Hopes,
+Asleep! This is the Providence of Fate,
+And proves she patronizes my Design,
+And I'll show her that Philip is no Coward.
+            [_Taking up his hatchet in one hand, and scalping knife in
+             the other, towards them._]
+A Moment now is more than Years to come:
+Intrepid as I am, the Work is shocking.      [_He retreats from them._
+Is it their Innocence that shakes my Purpose?
+No; I can tear the Suckling from the Breast,
+And drink their Blood who never knew a Crime.
+Is it because my Brother's Charmer dies?
+That cannot be, for that is my Revenge.
+Is it because Monelia is a Woman?
+I've long been blind and deaf to their Enchantments.
+Is it because I take them thus unguarded?
+No; though I act the Coward, it's a Secret.
+What is it shakes my firm and fix'd Resolve?
+'Tis childish Weakness: I'll not be unman'd.
+                                     [_Approaches and retreats again._
+There's something awful in the Face of Princes,
+And he that sheds their Blood, assaults the Gods:
+But I'm a Prince, and 'tis by me they die;
+                                          [_Advances arm'd as before._
+Each Hand contains the Fate of future Kings,
+And, were they Gods, I would not balk my Purpose.
+                                      [_Stabs MONELIA with the knife._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Hah! Philip, are you come? What can you mean?
+                                        [_TORAX starts and cries out._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Go learn my Meaning in the World of Spirits;
+                              [_Knocks him down with his hatchet, &c._
+'Tis now too late to make a Question of it.
+The Play is ended [_Looking upon the bodies_], now succeeds the Farce.
+Hullo! Help! Haste! the Enemy is here.
+                        [_Calling at one of the doors, and returning._
+Help is at Hand--But I must first be wounded:       [_Wounds himself._
+Now let the Gods themselves detect the Fraud.
+
+_Enter an INDIAN._
+
+INDIAN.
+
+What means your Cry? Is any Mischief here?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Behold this flowing Blood; a desperate Wound!    [_Shewing his wound._
+And there's a Deed that shakes the Root of Empires.
+                                            [_Pointing to the bodies._
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+Oh, fatal Sight! the Mohawk Prince is murder'd.
+
+3RD INDIAN.
+
+The Princess too is weltering in her Blood.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Both, both are gone; 'tis well that I escap'd.
+
+_Enter PONTEACH._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What means this Outcry, Noise, and Tumult here?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Oh see, my Father! see the Blood of Princes,
+A Sight that might provoke the Gods to weep,
+And drown the Country in a Flood of Tears.
+Great was my Haste, but could not stop the Deed;
+I rush'd among their Numbers for Revenge,
+They frighted fled; there I receiv'd this Wound.
+                                     [_Shewing his wound to PONTEACH._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Who, what were they? or where did they escape?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+A Band of English Warriors, bloody Dogs!
+This Way they ran from my vindictive Arm,             [_Pointing, &c._
+Which but for this base Wound would sure have stopp'd them.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Pursue, pursue, with utmost Speed pursue,  [_To the WARRIORS present._
+Outfly the Wind till you revenge this Blood;
+'Tis royal Blood, we count it as our own. [_Exeunt WARRIORS in haste._
+This Scene is dark, and doubtful the Event;
+Some great Decree of Fate depends upon it,
+And mighty Good or Ill awaits Mankind.
+The Blood of Princes cannot flow in vain,
+The Gods must be in Council to permit it:
+It is the Harbinger of their Designs,
+To change, new-mould, and alter Things on Earth:
+And much I fear, 'tis ominous of Ill,
+To me and mine; it happen'd in my Kingdom.
+Their Father's Rage will swell into a Torrent--
+They were my Guests--His Wrath will centre here;
+Our guilty Land hath drunk his Children's Blood.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Had I not seen the flying Murderers,
+Myself been wounded to revenge their Crime,
+Had you not hasten'd to pursue the assassins,
+He might have thought us treacherous and false,
+Or wanting in our hospitable Care:
+But now it cannot but engage his Friendship,
+Rouse him to Arms, and with a Father's Rage
+He'll point his Vengeance where it ought to fall;
+And thus this Deed, though vile and dark as Night,
+In its Events will open Day upon us,
+And prove of great Advantage to our State.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Haste then; declare our Innocence and Grief;
+Tell the old King we mourn as for our own,
+And are determin'd to revenge his Wrongs;
+Assure him that our Enemies are his,
+And rouse him like a Tyger to the Prey.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I will with Speed; but first this bleeding Wound
+Demands my Care, lest you lament me too.
+                                   [_Exit, to have his wound dress'd._
+
+PONTEACH [_solus_].
+
+Pale, breathless Youths! Your Dignity still lives:
+                                                [_Viewing the bodies._
+Your Murderers were blind, or they'd have trembled,
+Nor dar'd to wound such Majesty and Worth;
+It would have tam'd the savage running Bear,
+And made the raging Tyger fondly fawn;
+But your more savage Murderers were Christians.
+Oh, the distress'd good King! I feel for him,
+And wish to comfort his desponding Heart;
+But your last Rites require my present Care.                  [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _The Senate-House._
+
+_PONTEACH, TENESCO, and others._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Let all be worthy of the royal Dead;
+Spare no Expense to grace th' unhappy Scene,
+And aggrandize the solemn, gloomy Pomp
+With all our mournful, melancholy Rites.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+It shall be done; all Things are now preparing.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Never were Funeral Rites bestow'd more just;
+Who knew them living, must lament them dead;
+Who sees them dead, must wish to grace their Tombs
+With all the sad Respect of Grief and Tears.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Mourning is as general as the News;
+Grief sits on every Face, in every Eye,
+And gloomy Melancholy in Silence reigns:
+Nothing is heard but Sighs and sad Complaints,
+As if the First-born of the Realm were slain.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Thus would I have it; let no Eye be dry
+No Heart unmov'd, let every Bosom swell
+With Sighs and Groans. What Shouting do I hear?
+                        [_A shouting without, repeated several times._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+It is the Shout of Warriors from the Battle;
+The Sound of Victory and great Success.    [_He goes to listen to it._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Such is the State of Men and human Things;
+We weep, we smile, we mourn, and laugh thro' Life,
+Here falls a Blessing, there alights a Curse,
+As the good Genius or the evil reigns.
+It's right it should be so. Should either conquer,
+The World would cease, and Mankind be undone
+By constant Frowns or Flatteries from Fate;
+This constant Mixture makes the Potion safe,
+And keeps the sickly Mind of Man in Health.
+
+_Enter CHEKITAN._
+
+It is my Son. What has been your Success?
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+We've fought the Enemy, broke thro' their Ranks,
+Slain many on the Spot, pursu'd the rest
+Till Night conceal'd and sav'd them from our Arms.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+'Tis bravely done, and shall be duly honour'd
+With all the Signs and Marks of public Joy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What means this Gloom I see in every Face?
+These smother'd Groans and stifled half-drawn Sighs;
+Does it offend that I've return'd in Triumph?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I fear to name--And yet it must be known.                    [_Aside._
+Be not alarm'd, my Son, the Laws of Fate
+Must be obey'd: She will not hear our Dictates.
+I'm not a Stranger to your youthful Passion,
+And fear the Disappointment will confound you.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Has he not sped? Has ill befell my Brother?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Yes, he is wounded but--Monelia's slain,
+And Torax both. Slain by the cowardly English,
+Who 'scap'd your Brother's wounded threat'ning Arm,
+But are pursued by such as will revenge it.--
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Oh wretched, wretched, wretched Chekitan!                    [_Aside._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I know you're shock'd--The Scene has shock'd us all,
+And what we could, we've done to wipe the Stain
+From us, our Family, our Land and State;
+And now prepare due Honours for the Dead,
+With all the solemn Pomp of public Grief,
+To shew Respect as if they were our own.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Is this my Triumph after Victory?
+A solemn, dreadful pompous Shew:
+Why have I 'scap'd their Swords and liv'd to see it?         [_Aside._
+Monelia dead! aught else I could have borne:
+I'm stupefy'd: I can't believe it true;
+Shew me the Dead; I will believe my Eyes,
+But cannot mourn or drop a Tear till then.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I will conduct you to them--Follow me--
+                                       [_Exeunt TENESCO and CHEKITAN._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+This is a sad Reception from a Conquest,
+And puts an awful Gloom upon our Joy;
+I fear his Grief will overtop his Reason;
+A Lover weeps with more than common Pain.
+Nor flows his greatest Sorrow at his Eyes:
+His Grief is inward, and his Heart sheds Tears,
+And in his Soul he feels the pointed Woe,
+When he beholds the lovely Object lost.
+The deep-felt Wound admits no sudden Cure;
+The festering Humour will not be dispers'd,
+It gathers on the Mind, and Time alone,
+That buries all Things, puts an End to this.          [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+
+SCENE III. _The Grove, with the dead bodies; TENESCO pointing CHEKITAN
+to them._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+There lie the Bodies, Prince, a wretched Sight!
+Breathless and pale.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+A wretched Sight indeed;                        [_Going towards them._
+Oh, my Monelia; has thy Spirit fled?
+Art thou no more? a bloody, breathless Corpse!
+Am I return'd full flush'd with Hopes of Joy,
+With all the Honours Victory can give,
+To see thee thus? Is this, is this my Welcome?
+Is this our Wedding? Wilt thou not return?
+Oh, charming Princess, art thou gone for ever?
+Is this the fatal Period of our Love?
+Oh! had I never seen thy Beauty bloom,
+I had not now been griev'd to see it pale:
+Had I not known such Excellence had liv'd,
+I should not now be curs'd to see it dead:
+Had not my Heart been melted by thy Charms,
+It would not now have bled to see them lost.
+Oh, wherefore, wherefore, wherefore do I live:
+Monelia is not--What's the World to me?
+All dark and gloomy, horrid, waste, and void:
+The Light of the Creation is put out!--
+The Blessings of the Gods are all withdrawn!
+Nothing remains but Wretchedness and Woe;
+Monelia's gone; Monelia is no more.
+The Heavens are veil'd because she don't behold them:
+The Earth is curs'd, for it hath drunk her Blood;
+The Air is Poison, for she breathes no more:
+Why fell I not by the base Briton's Sword?
+Why press'd I not upon the fatal Point?
+Then had I never seen this worse than Death,
+But dying said, 'tis well--Monelia lives.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Comfort, my Prince, nor let your Passion swell
+To such a Torrent, it o'erwhelms your Reason,
+And preys upon the Vitals of your Soul.
+You do but feed the Viper by this View;
+Retire, and drive the Image from your Thought,
+And Time will soon replace your every Joy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+O my Tenesco, had you ever felt
+The gilded Sweets, or pointed Pains of Love,
+You'd not attempt to sooth a Grief like mine.
+Why did you point me to the painful Sight?
+Why have you shown this Shipwreck of my Hopes,
+And plac'd me in this beating Storm of Woe?
+Why was I told of my Monelia's Fate?
+Why wa'n't the wretched Ruin all conceal'd
+Under some fair Pretence--That she had fled--
+Was made a Captive, or had chang'd her Love--
+Why wa'n't I left to guess her wretched End?
+Or have some slender Hope that she still liv'd?
+You've all been cruel; she died to torment me;
+To raise my Pain, and blot out every Joy.--
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I fear'd as much: His Passion makes him wild--               [_Aside._
+I wish it may not end in perfect Frenzy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Who were the Murderers? Where did they fly?
+Where was my Brother, not to take Revenge?
+Show me their Tracks, I'll trace them round the Globe;
+I'll fly like Lightning, ravage the whole Earth--
+Kill every thing I meet, or hear, or see.
+Depopulate the World of Men and Beasts,
+'Tis all too little for that single Death.
+                                      [_Pointing to MONELIA'S corpse._
+I'll tear the Earth that dar'd to drink her Blood;
+Kill Trees, and Plants, and every springing Flower:
+Nothing shall grow, nothing shall be alive,
+Nothing shall move; I'll try to stop the Sun,
+And make all dark and barren, dead and sad;
+From his tall Sphere down to the lowest Centre,
+There I'll descend, and hide my wretched Self,
+And reign sole Monarch in a World of Ruin.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This is deep Madness, it hath seiz'd his Brain.              [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+But first I'll snatch a parting last Embrace.
+                         [_He touches and goes to embrace the corpse._
+Thou dear cold Clay! forgive the daring Touch;
+It is thy Chekitan, thy wounded Lover.
+'Tis; and he hastens to revenge thy Death.
+                                [_TORAX groans and attempts to speak._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh, oh, I did not--Philip--Philip--Oh.             [_CHEKITAN starts._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What--did I not hear a Groan? and Philip call'd?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+It was, it was, and there is Motion too.
+                     [_Approaches TORAX, who groans and speaks again._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Philip--help. Oh! Oh!
+
+TENESCO.
+
+He is alive--We'll raise him from the Ground.
+                                [_They lift him up, and speak to him._
+Torax, are you alive? or are our Ears deceiv'd?
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh. Philip, do not--do not--be so cruel.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+He is bewilder'd, and not yet himself.
+Pour this into his Lips--it will revive him.
+                                           [_They give him something._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This is a Joy unhop'd for in Distress.          [_TORAX revives more._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh! Philip, Philip!--Where is Philip gone?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Murderers are pursued--He will go soon.
+And now can carry Tidings of your Life.
+
+TORAX.
+
+He carry Tidings! he's the Murderer.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+He is not murder'd; he was slightly wounded,
+And hastens now to see the King your Father.
+
+TORAX.
+
+He is false, a barbarous, bloody Man,
+A Murderer, a base disguis'd Assassin.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+He still is maz'd, and knows not whom he's with
+
+TORAX.
+
+Yes, you are Chekitan, and that's Monelia.  [_Pointing to the corpse._
+This is Tenesco--Philip stabb'd my Sister,
+And struck at me; here was the stunning Blow. [_Pointing to his head._
+He took us sleeping in this silent Grove;
+There by Appointment from himself we waited.
+I saw him draw the bloody Knife from her,
+And, starting, ask'd him, Why, or what he meant?
+He answered with the Hatchet on my Skull,
+And doubtless thought me dead and bound in Silence.
+I am myself, and what I say is Fact.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The English 'twas beset you; Philip ran
+For your Assistance, and himself is wounded.
+
+TORAX.
+
+He may be wounded, but he wounded me;
+No Englishman was there, he was alone.
+I dare confront him with his Villainy:
+Depend upon 't, he's treacherous, false, and bloody.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+May we believe, or is this all a Dream?
+Are we awake? Is Torax yet alive?
+Or is it Juggling, Fascination all?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+'Tis most surprising! What to judge I know not.
+I'll lead him hence; perhaps he's still confus'd.
+
+TORAX.
+
+I gladly will go hence for some Relief,
+But shall not change, from what I've now aver'd.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Then this sad Storm of Ruin 's but begun.                    [_Aside._
+Philip must fly, or next it lights on him.
+                               [_Exeunt TENESCO and TORAX led by him._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+And can this be--Can Philip be so false?
+Dwells there such Baseness in a Brother's Heart?
+So much Dissimulation in the Earth?
+Is there such Perfidy among Mankind?
+It shocks my Faith--But yet it must be so--
+Yes, it was he, Monelia, shed thy Blood.
+This made him forward to commence our Friend,
+And with unusual Warmth engage to help us;
+It was for this so cheerful he resign'd
+To me the Honour of Command in War;
+The English Troops would never come so near;
+The Wounds were not inflicted by their Arms.
+All, all confirms the Guilt on Philip's Head.
+You died, Monelia, by my Brother's Hand;
+A Brother too intrusted with our Love.
+I'm stupify'd and senseless at the Thought;
+My Head, my very Heart is petrify'd.
+This adds a Mountain to my Weight of Woe.
+It now is swell'd too high to be lamented;
+Complaints, and Sighs, and Tears are thrown away,
+Revenge is all the Remedy that's left;
+But what Revenge is equal to the Crime?
+His Life for her's! An Atom for the Earth--
+A Single Fly--a Mite for the Creation:
+Turn where I will I find myself confounded:
+But I must seek and study out new Means.
+Help me, ye Powers of Vengeance! grant your Aid,
+Ye that delight in Blood, and Death, and Pain!
+Teach me the Arts of Cruelty and Wrath,
+Till I have Vengeance equal to my Love,
+And my Monelia's Shade is satisfied.                          [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+PHILIP [_solus_].
+
+His Grief no Doubt will rise into a Rage,
+To see his Charmer rolling in her Blood,
+I choose to see him not till my Return;
+By then the Fierceness of the Flame may cease;
+Nay, he'll grow cool, and quite forget his Love,
+When I report her Father's kindled Wrath,
+And all the Vengeance he intends to take.  [_CHEKITAN comes in sight._
+But this is he, I cannot now avoid him;
+How shall I soothe his Grief--He looks distracted--
+I'm such a Stranger grown to Tears and Pity,
+I fear he will not think I sympathize.
+
+_Enter CHEKITAN._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Have I then found thee, thou false hearted Traitor?
+Thou Tyger, Viper, Snake, thou worse than Christian;
+Bloodthirsty Butcher, more than Murderer!
+Thou every Thing but what Men ought to love!
+Do you still live to breathe and see the Sun?
+And face me with your savage guilty Eye?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I fear'd, alas, you would run mad and rave.
+Why do you blame me that I am not dead?
+I risk'd my Life, was wounded for your Sake,
+Did all I could for your Monelia's Safety,
+And to revenge you on her Murderers.
+Your Grief distracts you, or you'd thank me for 't.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Would you still tempt my Rage, and fire my Soul,
+Already bent to spill your treacherous Blood?
+You base Dissembler! know you are detected,
+Torax still lives, and has discover'd all.
+                                        [_PHILIP starts and trembles._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Torax alive!--It cannot--must not be.                        [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Well may you shake--You cannot mend your Blow.
+He lived to see, what none but you could think of,
+The bloody Knife drawn from Monelia's Breast.
+Had you a thousand Lives, they'd be too few;
+Had you a Sea of Blood, 't would be too small
+To wash away your deep-dy'd Stain of Guilt.
+Now you shall die; and Oh, if there be Powers
+That after Death take Vengeance on such Crimes,
+May they pursue you with their Flames of Wrath,
+Till all their Magazines of Pain are spent.
+                                [_He attacks PHILIP with his hatchet._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I must defend myself [_Drawing his hatchet_], the Case is desperate.
+                                              [_Fights; PHILIP falls._
+Fate is too hard; and I'm oblig'd to yield.
+'Twas well begun--but has a wretched End--
+Yet I'm reveng'd--She cannot live again.
+You cannot boast to 've shed more Blood than I--
+Oh, had I--had I--struck but one Blow more!                   [_Dies._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What have I done! this is my Brother's Blood!
+A guilty Murderer's Blood! He was no Brother.
+All Nature's Laws and Ties are hence dissolv'd;
+There is no Kindred, Friendship, Faith, or Love
+Among Mankind--Monelia's dead--The World
+Is all unhing'd--There's universal War--
+She was the Tie, the Centre of the Whole;
+And she remov'd, all is one general Jar.
+Where next, Monelia, shall I bend my Arm
+To heal this Discord, this Disorder still,
+And bring the Chaos Universe to Form?
+Blood still must flow and float the scatter'd Limbs
+Till thy much injur'd love in Peace subsides.
+Then every jarring Discord once will cease,
+And a new World from these rude Ruins rise.                 [_Pauses._
+Here then I point the Edge, from hence shall flow
+                                   [_Pointing his knife to his heart._
+The raging crimson Flood, this is the Fountain
+Whose swift Day's Stream shall waft me to thy Arms,
+Lest Philip's Ghost should injure thy Repose.        [_Stabs himself._
+I come, I come--Monelia, now I come--
+Philip--away--She's mine in spite of Death.                   [_Dies._
+
+_Enter TENESCO._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Oh! I'm too late, the fatal Work is done.
+Unhappy Princes; this your wretched End;
+Your Country's Hopes and your fond Father's Joy;
+Are you no more? Slain by each other's Hands,
+Or what is worse; or by the Air you breath'd?
+For all is Murder, Death, and Blood about us:
+Nothing safe; it is contagious all:
+The Earth, and Air, and Skies are full of Treason!
+The Evil Genius rules the Universe,
+And on Mankind rains Tempests of Destruction.
+Where will the Slaughter of the Species end?
+When it begins with Kings and with their Sons,
+A general Ruin threatens all below.
+How will the good King hear the sad Report?
+I fear th' Event; but as it can't be hid,
+I'll bear it to him in the softest Terms,
+And summon every Power to soothe his Grief,
+And slack the Torrent of his Royal Passion.                   [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE V. _Senate-House._
+
+PONTEACH [_solus_].
+
+The Torrent rises, and the Tempest blows;
+Where will this rough, rude Storm of Ruin end?
+What crimson Floods are yet to drench the Earth?
+What new-form'd Mischiefs hover in the Air,
+And point their Stings at this devoted Head?
+Has Fate exhausted all her Stores of Wrath,
+Or has she other Vengeance in reserve?
+What can she more? My Sons, my Name is gone;
+My Hopes all blasted, my Delights all fled;
+Nothing remains but an afflicted King,
+That might be pitied by Earth's greatest Wretch.
+My Friends; my Sons, ignobly, basely slain,
+Are more than murder'd, more than lost by Death.
+Had they died fighting in their Country's Cause,
+I should have smil'd and gloried in their Fall;
+Yes, boasting that I had such Sons to lose,
+I would have rode in Triumph o'er their Tombs.
+But thus to die, the Martyrs of their Folly,
+Involv'd in all the complicated Guilt
+Of Treason, Murder, Falsehood, and Deceit,
+Unbridled Passion, Cowardice, Revenge,
+And every Thing that can debase the Man,
+And render him the just Contempt of all,
+And fix the foulest Stain of Infamy,
+Beyond the Power of Time to blot it out;
+This is too much; and my griev'd Spirit sinks
+Beneath the Weight of such gigantic Woe.
+Ye that would see a piteous, wretched King,
+Look on a Father griev'd and curs'd like me;
+Look on a King whose Sons have died like mine!
+Then you'll confess that these are dangerous Names,
+And put it in the Power of Fate to curse us;
+It is on such she shews her highest Spite.
+But I'm too far--'Tis not a Time to grieve
+For private Losses, when the Public calls.
+
+_Enter TENESCO, looking sorrowful._
+
+What are your Tidings?--I have no more Sons.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+But you have Subjects, and regard their Safety.
+The treacherous Priest, intrusted with your Councils,
+Has publish'd all, and added his own Falsehoods;
+The Chiefs have all revolted from your Cause,
+Patch'd up a Peace, and lend their Help no more.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+And is this all? we must defend ourselves,
+Supply the Place of Numbers with our Courage,
+And learn to conquer with our very Looks:
+This is a Time that tries the Truth of Valour;
+He shows his Courage that dares stem the Storm,
+And live in spite of Violence and Fate.
+Shall holy Perfidy and seeming Lies
+Destroy our Purpose, sink us into Cowards?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+May your Hopes prosper! I'll excite the Troops
+By your Example still to keep the Field.                      [_Exit._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+'Tis coming on. Thus Wave succeeds to Wave,
+Till the Storm's spent, then all subsides again--
+The Chiefs revolted:--My Design betray'd:--
+May he that trusts a Christian meet the same;
+They have no Faith, no Honesty, no God,
+And cannot merit Confidence from Men.
+Were I alone the boist'rous Tempest's Sport,
+I'd quickly move my shatter'd, trembling Bark,
+And follow my departed Sons to Rest.
+But my brave Countrymen, my Friends, my Subjects,
+Demand my Care: I'll not desert the Helm,
+Nor leave a dang'rous Station in Distress;
+Yes, I will live, in spite of Fate I'll live;
+Was I not Ponteach, was I not a King,
+Such Giant Mischiefs would not gather round me.
+And since I'm Ponteach, since I am a King,
+I'll shew myself Superior to them all;
+I'll rise above this Hurricane of Fate,
+And shew my Courage to the Gods themselves.
+
+_Enter TENESCO, surprised and pausing._
+
+I am prepar'd, be not afraid to tell;
+You cannot speak what Ponteach dare not hear.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Our bravest Troops are slain, the rest pursu'd;
+All is Disorder, Tumult, and Rebellion.
+Those that remain insist on speedy Flight;
+You must attend them, or be left alone
+Unto the Fury of a conquering Foe,
+Nor will they long expect your Royal Pleasure.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Will they desert their King in such an Hour,
+When Pity might induce them to protect him?
+Kings like the Gods are valued and ador'd,
+When Men expect their Bounties in Return,
+Place them in Want, destroy the giving Power,
+All Sacrifices and Regards will cease.
+Go, tell my Friends that I'll attend their Call.
+                                              [_Rising. Exit TENESCO._
+I will not fear--but must obey my Stars:             [_Looking round._
+Ye fertile Fields and glad'ning Streams, adieu;
+Ye Fountains that have quench'd my scorching Thirst,
+Ye Shades that hid the Sun-beams from my Head,
+Ye Groves and Hills that yielded me the Chace,
+Ye flow'ry Meads, and Banks, and bending Trees,
+And thou proud Earth, made drunk with Royal Blood,
+I am no more your Owner and your King.
+But witness for me to your new base Lords,
+That my unconquer'd Mind defies them still;
+And though I fly, 'tis on the Wings of Hope.
+Yes, I will hence where there's no British Foe,
+And wait a Respite from this Storm of Woe;
+Beget more Sons, fresh Troops collect and arm,
+And other Schemes of future Greatness form;
+Britons may boast, the Gods may have their Will,
+Ponteach I am, and shall be Ponteach still.                   [_Exit._
+
+_Finis._
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ponteach, by Robert Rogers
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ponteach, by Robert Rogers
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ponteach
+       The Savages of America
+
+Author: Robert Rogers
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29223]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PONTEACH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="tnote"><p class="center"><b>Transcribers' Note:</b></p>
+<p>This e-book contains the text of <i>Ponteach</i>, extracted from
+<b>Representative Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819</b>. Comments and
+background to all the plays, and links to the other plays are available
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29221/29221-h/29221-h.htm">here</a>.</p>
+<p>For your convenience, the transcribers have provided the following links:</p>
+<p class="center">
+<a href="#Major_Rogers"><b>Major Robert Rogers.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#DRAMATIS_PERSONAE"><b>Dramatis Person&aelig;</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_I"><b>ACT I.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_II"><b>ACT II.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_III"><b>ACT III.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_IV"><b>ACT IV.</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ACT_V"><b>ACT V.</b></a><br />
+</p>
+<p>Spelling as in the original has been preserved.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h1>PONTEACH</h1>
+
+
+<h2><i>By</i> <span class="smcap">Robert Rogers</span></h2>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 451px;">
+<img src="images/image_113.png" width="451" height="663" alt="Major Robert Rogers" title="Major Robert Rogers" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Major Robert Rogers</span></span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="Major_Rogers" id="Major_Rogers"></a>
+MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS</h2>
+<h3>(1727-1795)</h3>
+
+
+<p>Robert Rogers, a soldier of fortune, is the <i>Davy Crockett</i> of
+Colonial times. Born at Dumbarton, New Hampshire, on
+November 17th (some authorities say 1730, another 1731, while
+the <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i> says 1727), he was the son
+of James Rogers, a farmer living in a frontier cabin at Methuen,
+in upper Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p>Robert's boyhood was spent in an atmosphere characteristic
+of pioneer life. He had scarcely passed his fifteenth year (Nevins
+claims in 1746), when he helped withstand an attack of Indians
+near his home, and this may be considered his first active experience
+with the Red Man. From this time on, the history of the
+career of Robert Rogers is the history of the efforts of the Colonists
+against the Indians as far west as Detroit, and as far south
+as South Carolina. The necessity which confronted all of the
+Colonists made of young Rogers one of the most expert hunters
+of the period, and in this connection he was associated with the
+famous John Stark, of Green Mountain Boys reputation. In the
+latter's Memoir, written by Caleb Stark, we have as graphic a
+pen-picture of Rogers, the hunter, at twenty-two, as we have
+actual likenesses of Rogers in the pictures of the time.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
+
+<p>Evidently Rogers flourished financially at this period, for we
+find him buying land in Massachusetts in 1753. His activity
+as a soldier in the French and Indian War put him in command
+of a company, known as "Rogers' Rangers," and he participated
+in the Siege of Detroit against Pontiac and the French. This
+experience of his must have fired Rogers with the desire, after
+careful consideration of the condition of the Indian, to put his
+special plea for the cause of the Red Man in some permanent
+literary form, for "Ponteach" was published in 1766, after Rogers
+had left America, had gone to London, and thence had taken
+vessel for Algiers, where he fought under Dey.</p>
+
+<p>By 1761, Rogers had so far advanced in worldly standing that
+he could afford to turn his attention to family affairs. We find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+him visiting Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where Elizabeth,
+daughter of the Reverend Arthur Browne, lived. The two were
+married on June 30th of that year; but evidently there was
+about Robert Rogers something his father-in-law did not quite
+relish. For, in 1763, a dispute arose between the two, because
+of Rogers' increasing dissipation. That they did not reach,
+however, any immediate open rupture, may have been due very
+largely to the fact that Rogers was becoming quite a land-owner
+in New York and New Hampshire. It was not until March 4,
+1778, after Rogers had gone through many and varied experiences,
+not the least of which was serving a term in the Debtors'
+Prison in England, that his wife was granted, by the New Hampshire
+Legislature, a decree of divorce. She thereupon married
+Captain John Poach.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, most of the interest attached to Rogers is historical,
+not literary. His career in the French and Indian War, outlined
+by him in his "Journal of the French and Indian War," which
+was published in London in 1765; his activity in the Cherokee
+War in South Carolina;<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> his association with William Bird, when
+he had an opportunity of studying the methods of Indian guides;
+his political ambitions when he returned to England in 1765&mdash;all
+of these are matters for the historian, and have received adequate
+consideration by Francis Parkman and other writers.
+During these activities, Rogers was not idle with his pen. He
+kept his Journals, and they clearly reveal how much of a ranger
+he was. After the fashion of the times, when he returned to
+England, anxious to let his friends know of the conditions in
+America, he not only published his Journals (1769), but also a
+concise account of North America (1770). But there must have
+been something about Rogers as a soldier of fortune that was
+not as straight or as honest as <i>Davy Crockett</i>. We find him, for
+example, entrusted with the post of Governor of Mackinac, and
+conducting affairs so illy that he was tried for treason. He may
+have advanced as a soldier through the successive ranks to
+Major, but it would seem that the higher up he advanced in
+position the more unscrupulous he became.</p>
+
+<p>After serving his term in the Debtors' Prison, which began on
+June 14, 1773, he returned to America, at the beginning of the
+Revolution. Among his Colonial friends, he not only counted
+John Stark, the ranger, but Israel Putnam as well, both of them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+ardent patriots and upholders of the American cause. It would
+seem, in 1775, that Rogers, to all outward appearance, was
+himself in sympathy with America. He professed being the
+staunch lover of those principles which America was upholding.
+But General Washington soon had cause to doubt his loyalty,
+and he was watched. With the result that his arrest was ordered,
+and thereupon he confessed his adherence to the Crown. Rogers
+then joined the forces of General Howe, bringing with him an
+invaluable knowledge of the land in New York and New Jersey,
+and adjacent territory. He was put in command of a company,
+known as the "Queen's Rangers," and throughout the Revolution
+fought bravely on the opposing side. After returning to
+England, he battled for further recognition, but never received
+the full honours he courted. He died on May 18, 1795, in South
+London.</p>
+
+<p>"Ponteach" was probably never given in Rogers's time. There
+is no record of its even having been considered by any of the
+theatrical companies. It was published in 1766, with a London
+imprint on the title-page.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> There is some slight probability that
+it was given an amateur production at Lake George by the summer
+residents there&mdash;certainly an appropriate spot to present a
+play by Rogers, inasmuch as the Ranger was known in that
+neighbourhood, and there is now familiar to all visitors a place
+called "Rogers's Slide," marking one of his escapades with the
+Indians.</p>
+
+<p>In the present collection, the editor has followed the text of
+the 1766 edition, fully realizing the consistent changes made by
+Mr. Allan Nevins in his edition of the play which, with an Introduction,
+Biography, and invaluable historical notes, was published
+in 1914 by the Caxton Club of Chicago.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p>
+
+<p>This piece is one which is not only interesting as representative
+of the early type of Indian drama in America, but it is also interesting
+as reflective of the attitude of a dramatist with a problem
+to propound. "Ponteach" is our first American problem play.
+Parkman claims that at least part of it was written by Rogers,
+thus throwing doubt on his entire claim to authorship. There
+is not only a dignity displayed in the drawing of the main char<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>acter
+of the Indian, but there is a very na&iuml;ve attempt at subtle
+humour in the characters of the Englishmen. There is no distinct
+excellence in depicting Indian character as such, after the
+romantic manner of Cooper, although Rogers, with his English
+tradition, has been able to lend to his dialogue a certain dignity of
+diction which is striking, and which gives the play a decided
+literary value. Taken, however, as an historical document&mdash;and
+Mr. Nevins does this&mdash;one can trace in "Ponteach" the
+whole range of Rogers's experience as an Indian fighter. There
+are constant allusions in the text to matters which Mr. Nevins
+has found necessary to explain in copious footnotes, and therefore
+to the student I would recommend this single edition of the play.
+"Ponteach" is published here, not from a scholarly standpoint,
+but simply as an example of early Indian drama.</p>
+
+<p>Of these Indian dramas, there are many examples in the
+early history of American playwriting. Laurence Hutton has an
+entertaining chapter on the subject in his "Curiosities of the
+American Stage," in which he enumerates such titles as "Oroloosa,"
+"Oroonoka," "Miautoumah," to say nothing of "Hiawatha."
+"Metamora; or, The Last of the Wampanoags" was
+brought to success through the powerful acting of Edwin Forrest,
+December 15, 1829. William Wheatley, of the Park Theatre,
+was likewise famed for his Indian impersonations. Among other
+more or less well-known plays of the species, enumerated by
+Wegelin, are:</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">F. Deffenbach.</span> "Onliata; or, The Indian Heroine." Philadelphia.
+1821.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Joseph Doddridge.</span> "Logan: The Last of the Race of Skikellemus,
+Chief of the Cayuga Nation." Buffalo Creek, Brooke
+Co., Va. 1823.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">G. W. P. Custis.</span> "The Indian Prophecy." A National Drama
+in Two Acts, founded on a most interesting and romantic
+occurrence in the life of General Washington. Georgetown.
+1828.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Nathaniel Deering.</span> "Carrabasset; or, The Last of the Norridgewocks."
+A Tragedy in Five Acts. Portland. 1830.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">W. H. C. Hosmer.</span> "The Fall of Tecumseh." Avon. 1830.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> These pictures were struck off on October 1, 1776. See Smith's "British Mezzotint
+Portraits."</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See the South Carolina <i>Gazette</i> files for 1760, 1761.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Ponteach:/or the/Savages of America,/A/Tragedy/[Major Robert Rogers.]
+London:/Printed for the Author; and Sold by J. Millan,/opposite the Admiralty,
+Whitehall./M.DCC.LXVI./[Price 2s. 6d.]</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Ponteach/or the/Savages of America/A Tragedy/By Robert Rogers/With an
+Introduction/and a Biography of the Author/By Allan Nevins/Chicago/The Caxton
+Club/1914/</p></div>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;">
+<img src="images/image_118.png" width="407" height="659" alt="PONTEACH: OR THE Savages of America. A TRAGEDY." title="Fac-Simile Title-Page of the First Edition" />
+<span class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fac-Simile Title-Page of the First Edition</span></span>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="DRAMATIS_PERSONAE" id="DRAMATIS_PERSONAE"></a>DRAMATIS PERSON&AElig;</h2>
+
+<table summary="Dramatis Personae">
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>,</td>
+<td>Indian Emperor on the Great Lakes.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>,</td>
+<td>Sons of Ponteach.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>,</td>
+<td>His chief Counsellor and Generalissimo.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Astinaco</span>,</td>
+<td rowspan="3" style="font-size:300%;">}</td>
+<td rowspan="3" style="vertical-align:middle;">Indian Kings who join with Ponteach.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Bear</span>,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">The Wolf</span>,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Torax</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Monelia</span></td>
+<td>Son and Daughter to Hendrick, Emperor of the Mohawks.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Indian</span></td>
+<td>Conjurer.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">French</span></td>
+<td>Priest.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Sharp</span>,</td>
+<td rowspan="3" style="font-size:300%;">}</td>
+<td rowspan="3" style="vertical-align:middle;">Three English Governors.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Gripe</span>,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><span class="smcap">Catchum</span>,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Colonel <span class="smcap">Cockum</span>,</td>
+<td rowspan="2" style="font-size:200%;">}</td>
+<td rowspan="2" style="vertical-align:middle;">Commanders at a Garrison in Ponteach's Country.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Captain <span class="smcap">Frisk</span>,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Murphey</span>,</td>
+<td>Two Indian Traders.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Orsbourn</span>,</td>
+<td>Two English Hunters.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2">Mrs. <span class="smcap"> Honnyman</span>,</td>
+<td>Wife to Honnyman, the Hunter.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p class="center">Warriors, Messengers, &amp;c.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3">PONTEACH:</h2>
+<h3>OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA</h3>
+
+<h2><a name="ACT_I" id="ACT_I"></a>ACT I.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span> <i>An Indian Trading House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">M'Dole</span> and <span class="smcap">Murphey</span>, two Indian Traders,
+and their Servants.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among the Savages in this wild Desart?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which 'faith I find it hard enough to do;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Know you the Principles by which it prospers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And how to make it lucrative and safe?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If not, you're like a Ship without a Rudder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That drives at random, and must surely sink.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'm unacquainted with your Indian Commerce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gladly would I learn the Arts from you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who're old, and practis'd in them many Years.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who might as well turn Ministers of State.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What have you got to part with to the Indians?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I've Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And such-like Trifles as they're wont to prize.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis very well: your Articles are good:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now the Thing's to make a Profit from them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our fundamental Maxim is this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That it's no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How! Not a Sin to cheat an Indian, say you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are they not Men? hav'n't they a Right to Justice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As well as we, though savage in their Manners?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! If you boggle here, I say no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is the very Quintessence of Trade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None who neglect it ever did grow rich,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ever will, or can by Indian Commerce.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By this old Ogden built his stately House,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Purchas'd Estates, and grew a little King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He, like an honest Man, bought all by Weight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made the ign'rant Savages believe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That his Right Foot exactly weigh'd a Pound:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By this for many Years he bought their Furs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well, I'll not stick at what is necessary:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But his Device is now grown old and stale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor could I manage such a barefac'd Fraud.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A thousand Opportunities present<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To take Advantage of their Ignorance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the great Engine I employ is Rum,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which makes them think me generous and just,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gives full Scope to practise all my Art.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I then begin my Trade with water'd Rum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cooling Draught well suits their scorching Throats.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which they, poor silly Souls! ignorant of Weights<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Rules of Balancing, do not perceive.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here they come; you'll see how I proceed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jack, is the Rum prepar'd as I commanded?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Jack.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, sir, all's ready when you please to call.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bring here the Scales and Weights immediately.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">You see the Trick is easy and conceal'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Shewing&nbsp;how&nbsp;to&nbsp;slip&nbsp;the&nbsp;scales.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By Jupiter, it's artfully contriv'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And was I King, I swear I'd knight th' Inventor.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Tom, mind the Part that you will have to act.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tom.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, never fear, I'll do as well as Jack.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then, you know, an honest Servant's Pains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Deserve Reward.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O! I'll take care of that.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter a number of <span class="smcap">Indians</span> with packs of fur.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So, what you trade with Indians here to-day?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, if my Goods will suit, and we agree.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis Rum we want, we're tired, hot, and thirsty.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">3rd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You, Mr. Englishman, have you got Rum?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Jack, bring a Bottle, pour them each a Gill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You know which Cask contains the Rum. The Rum?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's good strong Rum, I feel it very soon.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Give me a Glass. Here's Honesty in Trade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We English always drink before we deal.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good Way enough; it makes one sharp and cunning.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hand round another Gill. You're very welcome.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">3rd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some say you Englishmen are sometimes Rogues;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, English good. The Frenchmen give no Rum.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I think it's best to trade with Englishmen.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is your Price for Beaver Skins per Pound?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How much you ask per Quart for this strong Rum?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Five Pounds of Beaver for One Quart of Rum.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Five Pounds? Too much. Which is 't you call Five Pound?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This little Weight. I cannot give you more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well, take 'em; weigh 'em. Don't you cheat us now.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">No: He that cheats an Indian should be hang'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Weighing&nbsp;the&nbsp;packs.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">There's Thirty Pounds precisely of the Whole;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Five times Six is Thirty. Six Quarts of Rum.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jack, measure it to them: you know the Cask.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This Rum is sold. You draw it off the best.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>&nbsp;to&nbsp;receive&nbsp;their&nbsp;rum.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By Jove, you've gain'd more in a single Hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than ever I have done in Half a Year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curse on my Honesty! I might have been<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A little King, and liv'd without Concern,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Ay, there's the Way, my honest Friend, to live.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Clapping&nbsp;his&nbsp;shoulder.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">There's Ninety Weight of Sterling Beaver for you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, would my Conscience let me to the Thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I might enhance my Price, and lessen theirs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Murphey.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I can't but thank you for your kind Instructions,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As from them I expect to reap Advantage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are malicious, and would have Revenge.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">M'Dole.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Can't you avoid them? Let their Vengeance light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On others' Heads, no matter whose, if you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are but secure, and have the Cain in Hand:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whether on him that cheated, or his Friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps an honest Peasant, who ne'er dreamt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Fraud or Villainy in all his life;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such let them murder, if they will a Score,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="gap3 center"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span> <i>A Desart.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Orsbourn</span> and <span class="smcap">Honnyman</span>, two English Hunters.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Long have we toil'd, and rang'd the Woods in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Game, nor Track, nor Sign of any Kind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is to be seen; I swear I am discourag'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weary'd out with this long fruitless Hunt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Life on Earth besides is half so hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So full of Disappointments, as a Hunter's:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each Morn he wakes he views the destin'd Prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And counts the Profits of th' ensuing Day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each Ev'ning at his curs'd ill Fortune pines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And till next Day his Hope of Gain resigns.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Jove, I'll from these Desarts hasten home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swear that never more I'll touch a Gun.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These hateful Indians kidnap all the Game.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curse their black Heads! they fright the Deer and Bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ev'ry Animal that haunts the Wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or by their Witchcraft conjure them away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Englishman can get a single Shot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While they go loaded home with Skins and Furs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twere to be wish'd not one of them survived,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus to infest the World, and plague Mankind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curs'd Heathen Infidels! mere savage Beasts!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They don't deserve to breathe in Christian Air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And should be hunted down like other Brutes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I only wish the Laws permitted us<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hunt the savage Herd where e'er they're found;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd never leave the Trade of Hunting then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While one remain'd to tread and range the Wood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Curse on the Law, I say, that makes it Death<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To kill an Indian, more than to kill a Snake.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What if 'tis Peace? these Dogs deserve no Mercy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cursed revengeful, cruel, faithless Devils!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They kill'd my Father and my eldest Brother.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since which I hate their very Looks and Name.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I, since they betray'd and kill'd my Uncle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hell seize their cruel, unrelenting Souls!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho' these are not the same, 'twould ease my Heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To cleave their painted Heads, and spill their Blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I abhor, detest, and hate them all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now cou'd eat an Indian's Heart with Pleasure.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'd join you, and soop his savage Brains for Sauce;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I lose all Patience when I think of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, if you will, we'll quickly have Amends<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For our long Travel and successless Hunt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sweet Pleasure of Revenge to boot.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What will you do? Present, and pop one down?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, faith, the first we meet well fraught with Furs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if there's Two, and we can make sure Work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Jove, we'll ease the Rascals of their Packs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And send them empty home to their own Country.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then observe, that what we do is secret,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the Hangman will come in for Snacks.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Trust me for that; I'll join with all my Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor with a nicer Aim, or steadier Hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would shoot a Tyger than I would an Indian.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is a Couple stalking now this Way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With lusty Packs; Heav'n favour our Design.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Silence; conceal yourself, and mind your Eye.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are you well charg'd?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am. Take you the nearest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mind to fire exactly when I do.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A charming Chance!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Hush, let them still come nearer.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;shoot,&nbsp;and&nbsp;run&nbsp;to&nbsp;rifle&nbsp;the&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">They're down, old Boy, a Brace of noble Bucks!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Well tallow'd, faith, and noble Hides upon 'em.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Taking&nbsp;up&nbsp;a&nbsp;pack.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">We might have hunted all the Season thro'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Half this Game, and thought ourselves well paid.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By Jove, we might, and been at great Expence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Lead and Powder, here's a single Shot.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I swear I've got as much as I can carry.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And faith I'm not behind; this Pack is heavy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But stop; we must conceal the tawny Dogs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or their blood-thirsty Countrymen will find them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then we're bit. There'll be the Devil to pay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They'll murder us, and cheat the Hangman too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Right. We'll prevent all Mischief of this Kind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where shall we hide their savage Carcases?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">There they will lie conceal'd and snug enough&mdash;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;cover&nbsp;them.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">But stay&mdash;perhaps ere long there'll be a War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then their Scalps will sell for ready Cash<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two Hundred Crowns at least, and that's worth saving.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Well! that is true, no sooner said than done&mdash;</span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Drawing&nbsp;his&nbsp;knife.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I'll strip this Fellow's painted greasy Skull.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Strips&nbsp;off&nbsp;the&nbsp;scalp.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">A damn'd tough Hide, or my Knife's devilish dull&mdash;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Takes&nbsp;the&nbsp;other&nbsp;scalp.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Now let them sleep to-night without their Caps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pleasant Dreams attend their long Repose.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their Guns and Hatchets now are lawful Prize,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they'll not need them on their present Journey.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Devil hates Arms, and dreads the Smell of Powder;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'll not allow such Instruments about him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They're free from training now, they're in his Clutches.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, Honnyman, d'ye think this is not Murder?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I vow I'm shock'd a little to see them scalp'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fear their Ghosts will haunt us in the Dark.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's no more Murder than to crack a Louse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That is, if you've the Wit to keep it private.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as to Haunting, Indians have no Ghosts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But as they live like Beasts, like Beasts they die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've kill'd a Dozen in this self-same Way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never yet was troubled with their Spirits.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Orsbourn.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then I'm content; my Scruples are remov'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what I've done, my Conscience justifies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we must have these Guns and Hatchets alter'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or they'll detect th' Affair, and hang us both.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That's quickly done&mdash;Let us with Speed return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think no more of being hang'd or haunted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But turn our Fur to Gold, our Gold to Wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus gaily spend what we've so slily won,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And bless the first Inventor of a Gun.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span> <i>An English Fort.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter Colonel <span class="smcap">Cockum</span> and Captain <span class="smcap">Frisk</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What shall we do with these damn'd bawling Indians?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They're swarming every Day with their Complaints<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Wrongs and Injuries, and God knows what&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wish the Devil would take them to himself.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Frisk.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your Honour's right to wish the Devil his Due.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd send the noisy Hellhounds packing hence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor spend a Moment in debating with them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more you give Attention to their Murmurs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more they'll plague and haunt you every Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, their old King Ponteach grows damn'd saucy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Talks of his Power, and threatens what he'll do.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perdition to their faithless sooty Souls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd let 'em know at once to keep their Distance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Captain, You're right; their Insolence is such<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As beats my Patience; cursed Miscreants!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are encroaching; fain would be familiar:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll send their painted Heads to Hell with Thunder!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I swear I'll blow 'em hence with Cannon Ball,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And give the Devil an Hundred for his Supper.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Frisk.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They're coming here; you see they scent your Track,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And while you'll listen, they will ne'er be silent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But every Day improve in Insolence.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'll soon dispatch and storm them from my Presence.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>, and other Indian <span class="smcap">Chiefs</span>.</i><br /></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well, Mr. Colonel Cockum, what d' they call you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You give no Answer yet to my Complaint;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Men give my Men always too much Rum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then trade and cheat 'em. What! d' ye think this right?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tush! Silence! hold your noisy cursed Nonsense;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've heard enough of it; what is it to me?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What! you a Colonel, and not command your Men?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let ev'ry one be a Rogue that has a Mind to 't.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why, curse your Men, I suppose they wanted Rum;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They'll rarely be content, I know, without it.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What then? If Indians are such Fools, I think<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White Men like you should stop and teach them better.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I'm not a Pedagogue to your curs'd Indians.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Colonel, I hope that you'll consider this.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Frisk.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why, don't you see the Colonel will not hear you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You'd better go and watch your Men yourself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor plague us with your cursed endless Noise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We've something else to do of more Importance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hah! Captain Frisk, what! you a great man too?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Bus'ness here is only with your Colonel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll be heard, or know the Reason why.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Chief.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I thought the English had been better Men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Chief.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Frenchmen would always hear an Indian speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And answer fair, and make good Promises.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You may be d&mdash;&mdash;d, and all your Frenchmen too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Be d&mdash;&mdash;d! what's that? I do not understand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Devil teach you; he'll do it without a Fee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Devil teach! I think you one great Fool.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did your King tell you thus to treat the Indians?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had he been such a Dunce he ne'er had conquer'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made the running French for Quarter cry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I always mind that such proud Fools are Cowards,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never do aught that is great or good.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forbear your Impudence, you curs'd old Thief;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Moment leave my Fort, and to your Country.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me hear no more of your hellish Clamour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or to D&mdash;&mdash;n I will blow you all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feast the Devil with one hearty Meal.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So ho! Know you whose Country you are in?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think you, because you have subdu'd the French,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Indians too are now become your Slaves?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Country's mine, and here I reign as King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I value not your Threats, nor Forts, nor Guns;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have got Warriors, Courage, Strength, and Skill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Colonel, take care; the Wound is very deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Consider well, for it is hard to cure.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Frisk.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Vile Infidels! observe their Insolence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Old Ponteach puts on a mighty Air.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They'll always be a Torment till destroy'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sent all headlong to the Devil's Kitchen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This curs'd old Thief, no doubt, will give us Trouble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Provok'd and madded at his cool Reception.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Frisk.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! Colonel, they are never worth our minding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What can they do against our Bombs and Cannon?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True, they may skulk, and kill and scalp a few,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, Heav'n be thank'd, we're safe within these Walls:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, I think the Governors are coming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make them Presents, and establish Peace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That may perhaps appease their bloody Minds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keep them quiet for some little Term.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God send the Day that puts them all to sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come, will you crack a Bottle at my Tent?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Frisk.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">With all my Heart, and drink D&mdash;&mdash;n to them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Cockum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I can in nothing more sincerely join.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span> <i>An Apartment in the Fort.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter Governors <span class="smcap">Sharp</span>, <span class="smcap">Gripe</span>, and <span class="smcap">Catchum</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here are we met to represent our King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by his royal Bounties to conciliate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These Indians' Minds to Friendship, Peace, and Love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he that would an honest Living get<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Times so hard and difficult as these,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must mind that good old Rule, Take care of One.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ay, Christian Charity begins at home;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think it's in the Bible, I know I've read it.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I join with Paul, that he's an Infidel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who does not for himself and Friends provide.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, Paul in fact was no bad Politician,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And understood himself as well as most.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All good and wise Men certainly take care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To help themselves and Families the first;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus dictates Nature, Instinct, and Religion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose easy Precepts ought to be obey'd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But how does this affect our present Purpose?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We've heard the Doctrine; what's the Application?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are intrusted with these Indian Presents.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Thousand Pound was granted by the King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To satisfy them of his Royal Goodness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His constant Disposition to their Welfare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Five hundred's gone; you know our late Division,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our great Expence, <i>Et cetera</i>, no Matter:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other Half was laid out for these Goods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be distributed as we think proper;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whether Half (I only put the Question)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of these said Goods, won't answer every End,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring about as long a lasting Peace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As tho' the Whole were lavishly bestow'd?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'm clear upon 't they will, if we affirm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Half's the Whole was sent them by the King.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is no doubt but that One Third wou'd answer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they, poor Souls! are ign'rant of the Worth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of single Things, nor know they how to add<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or calculate, and cast the whole Amount.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why, Want of Learning is a great Misfortune.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How thankful should we be that we have Schools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And better taught and bred than these poor Heathen.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, only these Two simple easy Rules,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Addition and Subtraction, are great Helps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And much contribute to our happiness.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis these I mean to put in Practice now;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Subtraction from these Royal Presents makes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Addition to our Gains without a Fraction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let us overhaul and take the best,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Things may be given that won't do to sell.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;overhaul&nbsp;the&nbsp;goods,&nbsp;&amp;c.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lay these aside; they'll fetch a noble Price.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And these are very saleable, I think.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Indians will be very fond of these.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there the Half, think you?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It's thereabouts.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This bag of Wampum may be added yet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here, Lads, convey these Goods to our Apartment.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Servant.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Indians, sir, are waiting at the Gate.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Conduct them in when you've disposed of these.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This should have been new-drawn before they enter'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pulling&nbsp;out&nbsp;an&nbsp;inventory&nbsp;of&nbsp;the&nbsp;whole&nbsp;goods.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What matters that? They cannot read, you know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you can read to them in gen'ral Terms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>, with several of his Chieftains.</i></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Welcome, my Brothers, we are glad to meet you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hope that you will not repent our coming.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We're glad to see our Brothers here the English.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If honourable Peace be your Desire,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'd always have the Hatchet buried deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Lakes endure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Trees and Herbs within our Country grow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But then you must not cheat and wrong the Indians,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or treat us with Reproach, Contempt, and Scorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Else we will raise the Hatchet to the Sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let it never touch the Earth again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sharpen its Edge, and keep it bright as Silver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or stain it red with Murder and with Blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mind what I say, I do not tell you Lies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We hope you have no Reason to complain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Englishmen conduct to you amiss;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We're griev'd if they have given you Offence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fain would heal the Wound while it is fresh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest it should spread, grow painful, and severe.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your Men make Indians drunk, and then they cheat 'em.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Officers, your Colonels, and your Captains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are proud, morose, ill-natur'd, churlish Men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Treat us with Disrespect, Contempt, and Scorn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I tell you plainly this will never do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We never thus were treated by the French,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Them we thought bad enough, but think you worse.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There's good and bad, you know, in every Nation;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's some good Indians, some are the reverse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom you can't govern, and restrain from ill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So there's some Englishmen that will be bad.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You must not mind the Conduct of a few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor judge the rest by what you see of them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If you've some good, why don't you send them here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These every one are Rogues, and Knaves, and Fools,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think no more of Indians than of Dogs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your King had better send his good Men hither,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keep his bad ones in some other Country;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then you would find that Indians would do well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be peaceable, and honest in their Trade;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'd love you, treat you, as our Friends and Brothers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Raise the Hatchet only in your Cause.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our King is very anxious for your Welfare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And greatly wishes for your Love and Friendship;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He would not have the Hatchet ever raised,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But buried deep, stamp'd down and cover'd o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As with a Mountain that can never move:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this he sent us to your distant Country,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Bid us deliver you these friendly Belts,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Holding&nbsp;out&nbsp;belts&nbsp;of&nbsp;wampum.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">All cover'd over with his Love and Kindness.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He like a Father loves you as his Children;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like a Brother wishes you all Good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll let him know the Wounds that you complain of,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he'll be speedy to apply the Cure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clear the Path to Friendship, Peace, and Trade.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your King, I hear 's a good and upright Man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True to his word, and friendly in his Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not proud and insolent, morose and sour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like these his petty Officers and Servants:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I want to see your King, and let him know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What must be done to keep the Hatchet dull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And how the Path of Friendship, Peace, and Trade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May be kept clean and solid as a Rock.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our King is distant over the great Lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we can quickly send him your Requests;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which he'll listen with attentive Ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And act as tho' you told him with your Tongue.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let him know then his People here are Rogues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cheat and wrong and use the Indians ill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell him to send good Officers, and call<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These proud ill-natur'd Fellows from my Country,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keep his Hunters from my hunting Ground.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He must do this, and do it quickly too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or he will find the Path between us bloody.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of this we will acquaint our gracious King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hope you and your Chiefs will now confirm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A solid Peace as if our King was present;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We're his Ambassadors, and represent him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring these Tokens of his Royal Friendship<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To you, your Captains, Chiefs, and valiant Men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Read, Mr. Catchum, you've the Inventory.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The British King, of his great Bounty, sends<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Ponteach, King upon the Lakes, and his Chiefs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two hundred, No [<i>Aside</i>] a Number of fine Blankets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Six hundred [<i>Aside</i>] Yes, and several Dozen Hatchets,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twenty thousand [<i>Aside</i>] and a Bag of Wampum,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Parcel too of Pans, and Knives, and Kettles.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This rich and royal Bounty you'll accept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as you please distribute to your Chiefs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let them know they come from England's King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Tokens to them of his Love and Favour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We've taken this long Journey at great Charge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see and hold with you this friendly Talk;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We hope your Minds are all disposed to Peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that you like our Sovereign's Bounty well.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Chief.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We think it very small, we heard of more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Most of our Chiefs and Warriors are not here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They all expect to share a Part with us.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Chief.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These won't reach round to more than half our Tribes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Few of our Chiefs will have a single Token<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of your King's Bounty, that you speak so much of.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">3rd Chief.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And those who haven't will be dissatisfied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think themselves slighted, think your King is stingy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or else that you his Governors are Rogues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keep your Master's Bounty for yourselves.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">4th Chief.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We hear such Tricks are sometimes play'd with Indians.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">King Astenaco, the great Southern Chief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who's been in England, and has seen your King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Told me that he was generous, kind, and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But that his Officers were Rogues and Knaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cheated Indians out of what he gave.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">The Devil's in 't, I fear that we're detected.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Indians a'n't Fools, if White Men think us so;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We see, we hear, we think as well as you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We know there 're Lies, and Mischiefs in the World;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We don't know whom to trust, nor when to fear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Men are uncertain, changing as the Wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Inconstant as the Waters of the Lakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some smooth and fair, and pleasant as the Sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some rough and boist'rous, like the Winter Storm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some are Insidious as the subtle Snake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some innocent, and harmless as the Dove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some like the Tyger raging, cruel, fierce,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some like the Lamb, humble, submissive, mild,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scarcely one is every Day the same;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I call no Man bad, till such he's found,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I condemn and cast him from my Sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And no more trust him as a Friend and Brother.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hope to find you honest Men and true.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Indeed you may depend upon our Honours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We're faithful Servants of the best of Kings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We scorn an Imposition on your Ignorance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Abhor the Arts of Falsehood and Deceit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are the Presents our great Monarch sent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's of a bounteous, noble, princely Mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And had he known the Numbers of your Chiefs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each would have largely shar'd his Royal Goodness;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But these are rich and worthy your Acceptance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Few Kings on Earth can such as these bestow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Goodness, Beauty, Excellence, and Worth.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Presents from your Sovereign I accept,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His friendly Belts to us shall be preserved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And in Return convey you those to him.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Belts&nbsp;and&nbsp;furs.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Which let him know our Mind, and what we wish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we dislike his crusty Officers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wish the Path of Peace was made more plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Calumet I do not choose to smoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till I see further, and my other Chiefs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have been consulted. Tell your King from me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That first or last a Rogue will be detected,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I have Warriors, am myself a King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will be honour'd and obey'd as such;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell him my Subjects shall not be oppress'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I will seek Redress and take Revenge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell your King this; I have no more to say.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To our great King your Gifts we will convey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let him know the Talk we've had with you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We're griev'd we cannot smoke the Pipe of Peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And part with stronger Proofs of Love and Friendship;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meantime we hope you'll so consider Matters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As still to keep the Hatchet dull and buried,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And open wide the shining Path of Peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">That you and we may walk without a Blunder.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Th' appear not fully satisfied, I think.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I do not like old Ponteach's Talk and Air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He seems suspicious, and inclin'd to war.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They're always jealous, bloody, and revengeful,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You see that they distrust our Word and Honour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No wonder then if they suspect the Traders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And often charge them with downright Injustice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">True, when even we that come to make them Presents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cannot escape their Fears and Jealousies.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well, we have this, at least, to comfort us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their good Opinion is no Commendation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor their foul Slanders any Stain to Honour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think we've done whatever Men could do<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If they're displeas'd, our Honour is acquitted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we have not been wanting in our Duty<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them, our King, our Country, and our Friends.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But what Returns are these they've left behind?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These Belts are valuable, and neatly wrought.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This Pack of Furs is very weighty too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Skins are pick'd, and of the choicest Kind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">By Jove, they're worth more Money than their Presents.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Indeed they are; the King will be no Loser.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The King! who ever sent such Trumpery to him?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What would the King of England do with Wampum?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Beaver Skins, d'ye think? He's not a Hatter!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Gripe.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then it's a Perquisite belongs to us?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, they're become our lawful Goods and Chattels,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By all the Rules and Laws of Indian Treaties.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King would scorn to take a Gift from Indians,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think us Madmen, should we send them to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Catchum.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I understand we make a fair Division,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And have no Words nor Fraud among ourselves.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Sharp.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We throw the whole into one common Stock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And go Copartners in the Loss and Gain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus most who handle Money for the Crown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Find means to make the better Half their own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, to your better Judgments with Submission,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The self Neglecter's a poor Politician.<br /></span>
+<table summary="rhymebrace" style="margin-left:0em;border:0em;border-collapse:collapse;">
+<tr>
+<td style="padding:0em;"><span class="i0">These Gifts, you see will all Expences pay;</span></td>
+<td style="font-size:300%" rowspan="3">}</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="padding:0em;"><span class="i0">Heav'n send an Indian Treaty every Day;</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="padding:0em;"><span class="i0">We dearly love to serve our King this way.</span></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The End of the First Act.</i></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"></a>ACT II.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span> <i>An Indian House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Philip</span> and <span class="smcap">Chekitan</span> from hunting, loaded with venison.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Day's Toil's ended, and the Ev'ning smiles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the Joy and Pleasantness of Plenty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our good Success and Fortune in the Chace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will make us Mirth and Pastime for the Night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How will the old King and his Hunters smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see us loaded with the fatt'ning Prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joyously relate their own Adventures?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not the brave Victor's Shout, or Spoils of War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would give such Pleasure to their gladden'd Hearts.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These, Philip, are the unstain'd Fruits of Peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Effected by the conqu'ring British Troops.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now may we hunt the Wilds secure from Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seek our Food and Clothing by the Chace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Ease and Plenty thro' our Country reign.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Happy Effects indeed! long may they last!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I suspect the Term will be but short,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere this our happy Realm is curs'd afresh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the Noise and Miseries of War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Blood and Murder stain our Land again.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What hast thou heard that seems to threaten this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it idle Fancy and Conjectures?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our Father's late Behaviour and Discourse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unite to raise Suspicions in my Mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his Designs? Hast thou not yet observ'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That tho' at first he favour'd England's Troops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When they late landed on our fertile Shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proclaim'd his Approbation of their March,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Convoy'd their Stores, protected them from Harm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, put them in Possession of Detroit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And join'd to fill the Air with loud Huzzas<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When England's Flag was planted on its Walls?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet, since, he seems displeas'd at their Success,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thinks himself injured, treated with Neglect<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By their Commanders, as of no Account,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As one subdu'd and conquer'd with the French,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As one, whose Right to Empire now is lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he become a Vassal of their Power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Instead of an Ally. At this he's mov'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his Royal Bosom glows Revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which I suspect will sudden burst and spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Lightning from the Summer's burning Cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That instant sets whole Forests in a Blaze.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Something like this I have indeed perceiv'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this explains what I but now beheld,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Returning from the Chace, myself concealed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Royal Father basking in the Shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His Looks severe, Revenge was in his Eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All his great Soul seem'd mounted in his Face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bent on something hazardous and great.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With pensive Air he view'd the Forest round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smote on his Breast as if oppress'd with Wrongs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Indignation stamp'd upon the Ground;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Extended then and shook his mighty Arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As in Defiance of a coming Foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then like the hunted Elk he forward sprung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As tho' to trample his Assailants down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The broken Accents murmur'd from his Tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As rumbling Thunder from a distant Cloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Distinct I heard, "'Tis fix'd, I'll be reveng'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will make War; I'll drown this Land in Blood."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He disappear'd like the fresh-started Roe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pursu'd by Hounds o'er rocky Hills and Dales,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That instant leaves the anxious Hunter's Eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such was his Speed towards the other Chiefs.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He's gone to sound their Minds to Peace and War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And learn who'll join the Hazards in his Cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Fox, the Bear, the Eagle, Otter, Wolf,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other valiant Princes of the Empire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have late resorted hither for some End<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of common Import. Time will soon reveal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their secret Counsels and their fix'd Decrees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace has its Charms for those who love their Ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But active Souls like mine delight in Blood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Should War be wag'd, what Discords may we fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among ourselves? The powerful Mohawk King<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will ne'er consent to fight against the English,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, more, will join them as firm Ally,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And influence other Chiefs by his Example,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To muster all their Strength against our Father.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fathers perhaps will fight against their Sons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And nearest Friends pursue each other's Lives;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blood, Murder, Death, and Horror will be rife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Peace and Love, and Friendship triumph now.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such stale Conjectures smell of Cowardice.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Father's Temper shews us the reverse:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Danger he defies, and, once resolv'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Arguments will move him to relent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Motives change his Purpose of Revenge,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Prayers prevail upon him to delay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Execution of his fix'd Design:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the starv'd Tyger in Pursuit of Prey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Opposition will retard his Course;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the wing'd Eagle that looks down on Clouds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Hindrances are little in his Eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his great Mind knows not the Pain of Fear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such Hurricanes of Courage often lead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Shame and Disappointment in the End,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tumble blindfold on their own Disgrace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True Valour's slow, deliberate, and cool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Considers well the End, the Way, the Means,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weighs each Circumstance attending them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Imaginary Dangers it detects,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And guards itself against all real Evils.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But here Tenesco comes with Speed important;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His Looks and Face presage us something new.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail, noble Youth! The News of your Return<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And great Success has reach'd your Father's Ears.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great is his Joy; but something more important<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems to rest heavy on his anxious Mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he commands your Presence at his Cabin.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We will attend his Call with utmost Speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Nor wait Refreshment after our Day's Toil.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> II. <i><span class="smcap">Ponteach's</span> Cabin.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>, and <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My Sons, and trusty Counsellor Tenesco,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the sweet smelling Rose, when yet a Bud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lies close conceal'd, till Time and the Sun's Warmth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath swell'd, matur'd, and brought it forth to View,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So these my Purposes I now reveal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are to be kept with You, on pain of Death,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Time hath ripen'd my aspiring Plan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fortune's Sunshine shall disclose the Whole;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or should we fail, and Fortune prove perverse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let it be never known how far we fail'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest Fools shou'd triumph, or our Foes rejoice.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Life of Great Designs is Secrecy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in Affairs of State 'tis Honour's Guard;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Wisdom cannot form a Scheme so well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Fools will laugh if it should prove abortive;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And our Designs once known, our Honour's made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dependent on the Fickleness of Fortune.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What may your great and secret Purpose be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thus requires Concealment in its Birth?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To raise the Hatchet from its short Repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brighten its Edge, and stain it deep with Blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To scourge my proud, insulting, haughty Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To enlarge my Empire, which will soon be yours:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Interest, Glory, Grandeur, I consult,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And therefore hope with Vigour you'll pursue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And execute whatever I command.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When we refuse Obedience to your Will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We are not worthy to be call'd your Sons.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If we inherit not our Father's Valour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We never can deserve to share his Empire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spoke like yourselves, the Sons of Ponteach;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strength, Courage, and Obedience form the Soldier,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the firm Base of all true Greatness lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our Empire now is large, our Forces strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Chiefs are wise, our Warriors valiant Men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We all are furnish'd with the best of Arms,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all things requisite to curb a Foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now's our Time, if ever, to secure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Country, Kindred, Empire, all that's dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From these Invaders of our Rights, the English,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And set their Bounds towards the rising Sun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long have I seen with a suspicious Eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Strength and growing Numbers of the French;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Forts and Settlements I've view'd as Snakes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mortal Bite, bound by the Winter Frost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which in some future warm reviving Day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would stir and hiss, and spit their Poison forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And spread Destruction through our happy Land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where are we now? The French are all subdued,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who are in their Stead become our Lords?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A proud, imperious, churlish, haughty Band.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The French familiarized themselves with us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Studied our Tongue, and Manners, wore our Dress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Married our Daughters, and our Sons their Maids,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dealt honestly, and well supplied our Wants,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Used no One ill, and treated with Respect<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Kings, our Captains, and our aged Men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Call'd us their Friends, nay, what is more, their Children,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seem'd like Fathers anxious for our Welfare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom see we now? their haughty Conquerors<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Possess'd of every Fort, and Lake, and Pass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Big with their Victories so often gain'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On us they look with deep Contempt and Scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are false, deceitful, knavish, insolent;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, think us conquered, and our Country theirs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without a Purchase, or ev'n asking for it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Pleasure I wou'd call their King my Friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yea, honour and obey him as my Father;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd be content, would he keep his own Sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave these distant Lakes and Streams to us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, I would pay him Homage, if requested,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And furnish Warriors to support his Cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thus to lose my Country and my Empire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be a Vassal to his low Commanders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Treated with disrespect and public Scorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Knaves, by Miscreants, Creatures of his Power;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can this become a King like Ponteach,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose Empire's measured only by the Sun?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, I'll assert my Right, the Hatchet raise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drive these Britons hence like frighted Deer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Destroy their Forts, and make them rue the Day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That to our fertile Land they found the Way.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No Contradiction to your great Design;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But will not such Proceeding injure us?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is our Trade and Commerce to be carry'd?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they're possess'd of all the Country round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or whence Supplies of Implements for War?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Whence? Take them from our conquered running Foes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Fortresses are Magazines of Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which we can quickly turn against themselves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when they're driven to their destin'd Bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Love of Gain will soon renew their Trade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The heartless French, whene'er they see us conquer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will join their little Force to help us on.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, many of their own brave trusty Soldiers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Hope of Gain, will give us their Assistance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Gain's their great Commander, and will lead them<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where their brave Generals cannot force their March:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some have engag'd, when they see hope of Plunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sly Disguise to kill their Countrymen.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These Things indeed are promising and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And seem a Prelude to our full Success.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But will not many Indian Chiefs refuse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To join the Lists, and hold themselves oblig'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">T' assist the Foe when hardly press'd by us?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I've sounded all their Minds; there's but a few<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That are not warm and hearty in our Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And those faint Hearts we'll punish at our Leisure:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For hither tends my Purpose; to subdue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Tribes who now their annual Homage pay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the imperious haughty Mohawk Chief,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose Pride and Insolence 'tis Time to curb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He ever boasts the Greatness of his Empire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Swiftness, Skill and Valour of his Warriors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His former Conquests, and his fresh Exploits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Terror of his Arms in distant Lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on a Footing puts himself with me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Wisdom to contrive, and Power to do.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such a proud Rival must not breathe the Air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll die in fighting, or I'll reign alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er every Indian Nation, Tribe, and Chief.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But this in solemn Silence we conceal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till they're drawn in to fight the common Foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then from my Face, the sly Disguise I'll cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shew them Ponteach to their Surprise.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy Plan is wise, and may Success attend it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May all the warlike numerous Tribes unite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor cease to conquer while thou hast a Foe!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then may they join and own thee for their Sovereign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pay full Submission to thy scepter'd Arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And universal Empire by thy own!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would you the Mohawk Emperor displease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wage a bloody War, by which you made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him and his num'rous Tribes your certain Foes?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Most of his Tribes will welcome the Proposal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For long their galled Necks have felt the Yoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long wish'd for Freedom from his partial Sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In favour of the proud incroaching Britons.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, they have oft, in spite of his Displeasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rush'd forth like Wolves upon their naked Borders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, like Tygers broken from their Chains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">they'll glut themselves, and revel in their Blood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Myself will undertake to make even Hendrick<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our zealous Friend against the common Foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His strong Attachment to them I'll dissolve,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make him rage, and thirst for Vengeance on them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This would be doing Honour to thyself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make thee worthy of thy Father's Crown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The secret Means I will not now inquire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor doubt but thus engag'd you will perform.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Chiefs in part are knowing to my Purpose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think of nought but War, and Blood, and Plunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till in full Council we declare our Pleasure.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But first my last Night's Dream I will relate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which much disturb'd my weary anxious Mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And must portend some signal grand Event<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Good or Evil both to me or mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On yonder Plain I saw the lordly Elk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Snuffing the empty Air in seeming Sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tossing his Head aloft, as if in Pride<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of his great Bulk and nervous active Limbs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Scorn of every Beast that haunts the Wood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With mighty Stride he travelled to and fro,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as he mov'd his Size was still increas'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till his wide Branches reached above the Trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his extended Trunk across the Plain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other Beasts beheld with wild Amaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stood trembling round, nor dare they to approach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the fierce Tyger yell'd the loud Alarm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Bears, Cats, Wolves, Panthers, and Porcupines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other Beasts of Prey, with Force united<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And savage Rage, attack'd the common Foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But as the busking Bull, when Summer Flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With keenest Sting disturb the grazing Herd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands careless in some shady cool Retreat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from his Sides sweeps the envenom'd Mites,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or shakes them with a Stamp into the Dust;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So he unmov'd amidst their Clamours stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trampled and spurn'd them with his Hoofs and Horns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all dispers'd in wild Disorder fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And left him Master of th' extended Plain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This Dream no doubt is full of some great Meaning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in it bears the Fate of your Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But whether good or ill, to me 's a Secret.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It ne'er was counted ill to dream of Elks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But always thought portentous of Success,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of happy Life, and Victories in War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or fortune good when we attempt the Chace.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such is the common Say; but here the Size<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Circumstances are uncommon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And therefore can contain no common Meaning:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear these Things portend no Good to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Mischiefs lurk like Serpents in the Grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose pois'nous deadly Bite precedes all Warning.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That this Design will end in mighty Ruin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To us and ours, Discord among our Friends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Triumph to our Foes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A valiant Hero!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou always wast a Coward, and hated War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lov'st to loll on the soft Lap of Peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou art a very Woman in thy Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And talk'st of Snakes and Bugbears in the Dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all is Horror and Amaze about thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And even thy own Shadow makes thee tremble.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there no Courage in delib'rate Wisdom?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is all rank Cowardice but Fire and Fury?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it all womanish to re-consider<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And weigh the Consequences of our Actions,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before we desperately rush upon them?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let me then be the Coward, a mere Woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mine be the Praise of Coolness, yours of Rage.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Peace, Peace, my Sons, nor let this casual Strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">divide your Hearts; both mean the common Good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go Hand in Hand to conquer and promote it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll to our worthy Doctor and the Priest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who for our Souls' Salvation come from France;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sure can solve the Mysteries of Fate,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Secrets of a Dream explain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mean while, Tenesco, warn the other Chiefs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">That they attend my Call within an Hour.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My Warmth perhaps has carried me too far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But it's not in me to be cool and backward<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To act or speak when Kingdoms are the Prize.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Blood runs high at the sweet Sound of Empire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as our Father's Plan ensures to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'm impatient of the least Delay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy Fire thou hast a Right to style a Virtue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heat is our Friend when kept within due Bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if unbridled and allowed to rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It burns and blisters, torments and consumes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, Torrent-like, sweeps every Comfort by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Think if our Father's Plan should prove abortive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Troops repuls'd, or in th' Encounter slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where are our conquer'd Kingdoms then to share,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where are our Vict'ries, Trophies, Triumphs, Crowns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That dazzle in thy Eye, and swell thy Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That nerve thy Arm, and wing thy Feet to War<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With this impetuous Violence and Speed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crest-fallen then, our native Empire lost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In captive Chains we drag a wretched Life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or fly inglorious from the conquering Foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To barren Mountains from this fertile Land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There to repent our Folly when too late,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Anguish mourn, and curse our wretched Fate.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But why so much of Mischiefs that may happen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are mere Possibilities at most;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Creatures of Thought, which ne'er can be Objections,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In valiant Minds, to any great Attempt;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They're empty Echoes of a tim'rous Soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Bubbles driv'n by the tempestuous Storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Breath of Resolution sweeps them off.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dost thou judge them solid from thy Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know the secret Motive in thy Breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus to oppose our Father's great Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And from an Undertaking to dissuade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which thou'lt share the Profit and the Glory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hendrick, the King of Mohawks, hath a Daughter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With whom I saw you dallying in the Shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought you then a Captive to her Charms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bright Monelia hangs upon thy Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And softens all the Passions of thy Soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her thou think'st lost should we proclaim a War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In which the King her Father will not join.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What if I have a Value for Monelia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it a Crime? Does she not merit Love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From all who see her move, or hear her speak?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">True, she is engaging, has a charming Air;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if thy Love is fix'd, I will assist it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And put thee in Possession of the Joy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That thou desirest more than Crowns and Empire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As how, dear Philip? Should we wage a War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which Hendrick disapproves, the Prize is lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not Empires then could make Monelia mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Hopes are dash'd upon that fatal Rock;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Gold, nor Prayers, nor Tears, nor Promises,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor all the Engin'ry of Love at Work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could save a single Moment of my Joy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, I will save it all and make her thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Act but thy Part, and do as I prescribe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Peace or War thou shalt possess the Prize.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy Words revive my half-despairing Heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What must I act? or which Way must I turn?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll brave all Dangers, every Ill defy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Risk Life itself, to call Monelia mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Help me, my Philip, and I'll be thy Slave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resign my Share of Empire to thy Hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lay a Claim to nothing but Monelia.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Rewards I do not ask; I am thy Brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hold my Kindness to thee as a Debt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou know'st I have engag'd to bring King Hendrick<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To join the Lists, and fight against our Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To rouse him to Revenge, and Rage, and War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make him zealous in the common Cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, with uncommon Fury he shall rave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And urge his Warriors on to Blood and Murder.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When this is done, Monelia may be thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hendrick will court Alliance to our Tribe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And joy to call great Ponteach's Son his own.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But should you fail in these Attempts, and he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prove obstinately fix'd against the War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where's then Monelia? where is Chekitan?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Hopes are blasted, all my Joys are fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the vain Phantoms of a Midnight Dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are scattered like the Dust before a Whirlwind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all my Soul is left a Void for Pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vexation, Madness, Frenzy, and Despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Pains of disappointed Love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Better I ne'er had flattered my fond Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor sooth'd my Mind with Prospects of my Joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than thus to perish on the Point of Hope.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Leave all to me; I've so concerted Matters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I defy ev'n Fate to disappoint me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exert thyself, and to Monelia go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Before th' assembled Chiefs in Council meet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge it to her, and to her Brother Torax,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That should their Father prove refractory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Withdraw himself, and order his Domestics<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hasten home at News of our Design;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge it, I say, to them; Torax loves War;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To linger here in Hopes of his Return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which tell them I'll effect ere twice the Sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has run the Circuit of his daily Race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here they may loiter careless, range the Woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As tho' the Noise of War had not been heard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This will give full Success to both our Wishes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou'lt gain the Prize of Love, and I of Wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In favour to our Family and State.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou'lt tame the Turtle, I shall rouse the Tyger;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The one will soothe thy Soul to soft Repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other prove a Terror to our Foes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I see the subtle Argument thou'lt use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And how thou'lt work upon the old King's Weakness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou'lt set his strong Affection for his Children<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At War against his Kindness for our Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By urging their Attachment to our Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they'll endure ev'n Banishment and Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rather than cease to be our steadfast Friends.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All this I'll urge, nay, more, I will convince him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These Foes to us can be no Friends to him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll thunder in his Ears their growing Power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Villainies and Cheats upon his Subjects:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That their fair Shew of Love is foul Disguise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in their Hearts they hate the Name of Indians,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And court his Friendship only for their Profit;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That when no longer he subserves their Ends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He may go whistle up some other Friends.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This must alarm and bring him to our Mind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll hasten to my Charge with utmost Speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strain every Nerve, and every Power exert;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plead, promise, swear like any Christian Trader;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I'll detain them till our Ends are answer'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And you have won their Father to our Purpose.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! what a wretched Thing is a Man in Love!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Fear&mdash;all Hope&mdash;all Diffidence&mdash;all Faith&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Distrusts the greatest Strength, depends on Straws&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soften'd, unprovident, disarm'd, unman'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Led blindfold; every Power denies its Aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Passion's but a Slave to this;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour, Revenge, Ambition, Interest, all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon its Altar bleed&mdash;Kingdoms and Crowns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are slighted and condemn'd, and all the Ties<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Nature are dissolv'd by this poor Passion:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once have I felt its Poison in my Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When this same Chekitan a Captive led<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fair Donanta from the Illinois;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw, admir'd, and lov'd the charming Maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as a Favour ask'd her from his Hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he refus'd and sold her for a Slave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Love is dead, but my Resentment lives,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now's my Time to let the Flame break forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For while I pay this ancient Debt of Vengeance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll serve my Country, and advance myself.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He loves Monelia&mdash;Hendrick must be won&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Monelia and her Brother both must bleed&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is my Vengeance on her Lover's Head&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I'll affirm, 'twas done by Englishmen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to gain Credit both with Friends and Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll wound myself, and say that I receiv'd it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By striving to assist them in the Combat.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This will rouse Hendrick's Wrath, and arm his Troops<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Blood and Vengeance on the common Foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And further still my Profit may extend;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Brother's Rage will lead him into Danger,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, he cut off, the Empire's all my own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus am I fix'd; my Scheme of Goodness laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll effect it, tho' thro' Blood I wade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To desperate Wounds apply a desperate Cure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to tall Structures lay Foundations sure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Fame and Empire hence my Course I bend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Step I take shall thither tend.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>End of the Second Act.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"></a>ACT III.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span> <i>A Forest.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<p class="center">[<i>Seeing <span class="smcap">Torax</span> and <span class="smcap">Monelia</span>, coming towards them.</i>]</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As the young Hunter, anxious in the Chace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With beating Heart and quivering Hand espies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wish'd for Game, and trembles for th' Event,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So I behold the bright Monelia's Steps,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom anxiously I've sought, approach this way&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What shall I say? or how shall I accost her?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is a fatal Minute to mistake in.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Joy or Grief of Life depends upon 't;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is the important Crisis of my Fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've thought a thousand things to say and do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But know not which to say or do the first.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall I begin with my old Tale of Love?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or shall I shock her with the News of War?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must I put on the Face of Joy or Grief?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seem unconcern'd or full of Doubts and Fears?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How unprepar'd I am for the Encounter!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd rather stand against an Host of Foes&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">But she draws near, and Fate must guide me now,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Enter&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Torax</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Monelia</span>.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Where tend your Steps with such an Air of Joy?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To view the Beauties of th' extended Lake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on its mossy Bank recline at Ease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While we behold the Sports of Fish and Fowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which in this Calm no doubt will be diverting.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And these are new Amusements to Monelia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She never saw the Sea or Lakes before.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'm glad our Country's aught to give such Pleasure<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one deservedly so welcome in it.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That I am welcome you have oft assur'd me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I deserve it you may be mistaken,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The outside Shew, the Form, the Dress, the Air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That please at first Acquaintance, oft deceive us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prove more Mimickers of true Desert,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which always brightens by a further Trial,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Appears more lovely as we know it better,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At least can never suffer by Acquaintance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps then you To-morrow will despise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What you esteem To-day, and call deserving.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My Love to you, Monelia, cannot change.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Beauty, like the Sun, for ever pleases,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And like the Earth, my Love can never move.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Earth itself is sometimes known to shake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the bright Sun by Clouds is oft conceal'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gloomy Night succeeds the Smiles of Day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So Beauty oft by foulest Faults is veil'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after one short Blaze admir'd no more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loses its Lustre, drops its sparkling Charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Lover sickens, and his Passion dies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, worse, he hates what he so doted on.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Time only proves the Truth of Worth and Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The one may be a Cheat, the other change,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fears, and Jealousies, and mortal Hate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Succeed the Sunshine of the warmest Passion.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Have I not vow'd my Love to you, Monelia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And open'd all the Weakness of my Heart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You cannot think me false and insincere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I repeat my Vows to love you still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each time I see you move, or hear you speak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It adds fresh Fuel to the growing Flame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You're like the rising Sun, whose Beams increase<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As he advances upward to our View;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We gaze with growing Wonder till we're blind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Beauty fades and dies but his.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus shall I always view your growing Charm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Day and Hour with fresh Delight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witness thou Sun and Moon, and Stars above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witness ye purling Streams and quivering Lakes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witness ye Groves and Hills, and Springs and Plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Witness ye Shades, and the cool Fountain, where<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I first espied the Image of her Charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And starting saw her on th' adjacent Bank,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If I to my Monelia prove untrue.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hoh! now your Talk is so much like a Christian's,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I must be excus'd if I distrust you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think your fair Pretences all designing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I once was courted by a spruce young Blade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A lac'd Coat Captain, warlike, active, gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cockaded Hat and Medal on his Breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every thing was clever but his Tongue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He swore he lov'd, O! how he swore he lov'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Call'd on his God and Stars to witness for him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wish'd he might die, be blown to Hell and damn'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If ever he lov'd woman so before:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Call'd me his Princess, Charmer, Angel, Goddess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swore nothing else was ever half so pretty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So dear, so sweet, so much to please his Taste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He kiss'd, he squeez'd, and press'd me to his Bosom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vow'd nothing could abate his ardent Passion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swore he should die, should drown, or hang himself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could not exist if I denied his Suit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And said a thousand Things I cannot Name:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My simple Heart, made soft by so much Heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half gave Consent, meaning to be his Bride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Moment thus unguarded, he embrac'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And impudently ask'd to stain my Virtue.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With just Disdain I push'd him from my Arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let him know he'd kindled my Resentment;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Scene was chang'd from Sunshine to a Storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! then he curs'd, and swore, and damn'd, and sunk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Call'd me proud Bitch, pray'd Heav'n to blast my Soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wish'd Furies, Hell, and Devils had my Body,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To say no more; bid me begone in Haste<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Without the smallest Mark of his Affection.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This was an Englishman, a Christian Lover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would you compare an Indian Prince to those<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose Trade it is to cheat, deceive, and flatter?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who rarely speak the Meaning of their Hearts?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose Tongues are full of Promises and Vows?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose very Language is a downright Lie?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who swear and call on Gods when they mean nothing?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who call it complaisant, polite good Breeding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To say Ten thousand things they don't intend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell their nearest Friends the basest Falsehood?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know you cannot think me so perverse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such Baseness dwells not in an Indian's Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I'll convince you that I am no Christian.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then do not swear, nor vow, nor promise much,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An honest Heart needs none of this Parade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its Sense steals softly to the list'ning Ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Love, like a rich Jewel we most value,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we ourselves by Chance espy its Blaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And none proclaims where we may find the Prize.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mistake me not, I don't impeach your Honour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor think you undeserving my Esteem;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When our Hands join you may repeat your Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But save these Repetitions from the Tongue.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forgive me, if my Fondness is too pressing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis Fear, 'tis anxious Fear, that makes it so.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What do you fear? have I not said enough?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or would you have me swear some Christian Oath?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, but I fear our Love will be oppos'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Father will forbid our Hands to join.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I cannot think it; you are Ponteach's Son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heir to an Empire large and rich as his.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">True; but your Father is a Friend to Britons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mine a Foe, and now is fix'd on War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Immediate War: This Day the Chiefs assemble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To raise the Hatchet, and to arm the Troops.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then I must leave your Realm, and bid Adieu,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In spite of your fond Passion, or my own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I can never disoblige my Father,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though by it I were sure to gain an Empire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then Chekitan's undone, undone for ever.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unless your Father by kind Fate is mov'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To be our Friend, and join the Lists with mine.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nothing would please me better; I love War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think it time to curb the English Pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And give a check to their increasing Power.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Land is ravag'd by their numerous Bands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Day they're growing more our Lords.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are you sincere, or do you feign this Speech?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Indeed my Tongue does not bely my Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And but my Father's wrong-turn'd Policy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forbids, I'd instant join in War with you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And help to set new Limits to their Power.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis plain, if they proceed, nor you nor I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall rule an Empire, or possess a Crown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our Countries all will soon become a Prey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Strangers; we perhaps shall be their Slaves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But will your Father be convinc'd of this?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I doubt he'll not. The good old Man esteems<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dotes upon them as most worthy Friends;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've told him often that he cherish'd Serpents,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bite his Children, and destroy his Friends.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But this he calls the Folly of my Youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bids me be silent, show Respect to Age,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor sow Sedition in my Father's Empire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stiff as he is, he yet may be subdued;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I've a Power prepar'd that will attack him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should he refuse his Aid to our Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retire himself, and bid his Troops to follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet Philip stands engag'd for his Return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere twice the Sun has ris'n and blest the Earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Philip is eloquent, and so prepar'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He cannot fail to bend him to our Purpose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You and Monelia have a Part to act;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To linger here, should he in Haste retreat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Philip follows and employs his Force.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Stay will add new Life to the Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be of mighty Weight to gain Success.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How shall we tarry midst the Noise of War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Danger of our Lives from Friends and Foes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This will be deem'd a Madness by our Father,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will deserve his most severe Rebuke.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Myself will be a Sponsor for your Safety;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And should your Father baffle our Attempts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conduct you home from all the Noise of War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where may you long in Peace and Plenty smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While I return to mourn my hapless Fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But should Success attend on Philip's Purpose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Father will not discommend your Stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But smiling give new Vigour to the War;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which being ended, and our Foes subdu'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The happy Fruits of Peace succeed to all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we shall taste the greater Sweets of Love.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Purport of our Stay is hid from me;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Philip's subtle, crafty as the Fox.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll give full Scope to his enticing Art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And help him what we can to take the Prey.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In your Protection then I trust myself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor will delay beyond th' appointed Term,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest anxious Fears possess our Father's Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Mischiefs happen that incur his Anger.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is agreed; we now pursue our Walk;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mean time consult what else may be of Use,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">You're pain'd with Love, and I'm in Pain for War.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Game is sure&mdash;Her Brother's on my Side&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her Brother and my own&mdash;My Force is strong&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But could her Father now be rous'd to War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How should I triumph and defy even Fate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But Fortune favours all advent'rous Souls:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll now to Philip; tell him my Success,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rouse up every Spark of Vigour in him:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He will conceive fresh Hopes, and be more zealous.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene</span> II. <i><span class="smcap">Ponteach's</span> Cabin.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>, an Indian <span class="smcap">Conjurer</span>, and French <span class="smcap">Priest</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well! have you found the Secret of my Dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By all your Cries, and Howls, and Sweats, and Prayers?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is the Meaning still conceal'd from Man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And only known to Genii and the Gods?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Conjurer.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Two Hours I've lain within the sultry Stove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Floods of Sweat ran trickling from my Skin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Howls and Cries and all the Force of Sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have I invok'd your Genius and my own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smote on my Breast, and beat against my Head,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To move an Answer, and the Secret learn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all in vain, no Answer can I have,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till I first learn what secret Purposes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And great Designs are brooding in your Mind.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At our pure Virgin's Shrine I've bowed my Knees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there in fervent Prayer pour'd out my Soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Call'd on Saint Peter, call'd on all the Saints<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That know the Secrets both of Heaven and Earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And can reveal what Gods themselves can do:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've us'd the Arts of our most holy Mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which I receiv'd when I forsook the World,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gave myself to Holiness and Heaven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But can't obtain the Secret of your Dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till I first know the Secrets of your Heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or what you hope or wish to be effected.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis on these Terms we learn the Will of God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What Good or Ill awaits on Kings or Kingdoms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And without this, St. Peter's Self can't tell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But at a Dream like yours would be confounded.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You're well agreed&mdash;Our Gods are much alike&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I suspect both Rogues&mdash;What! won't they tell!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should they betray my Scheme, the whole is blown.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And yet I fain would know. I'll charge them first.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look here; if I disclose a Secret to you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell it to none but silent honest Gods;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death to you both, if you reveal to Men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Both.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We will, we will, the Gods alone shall know.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Know then that I have fix'd on speedy War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To drive these new Encroachers from my Country.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For this I meant t' engage our several Tribes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when our Foes are driven to their Bounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we may stand and hold our Rights secure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unite our Strength under one common Head,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom all these Petty Kings must own their Lord,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not even Hendrick's self shall be excused.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is my Purpose. Learn if it shall prosper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or will it end in Infamy and Shame?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Conjurer.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="hangindent"><p>[<i>Smiting on his breast, groaning, and muttering in his cloak or
+blanket, falls down upon the ground, beats his head against
+it, and pretends to listen: then rises, and says with a rumbling
+hideous voice:</i>]</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Success and Victory shall attend your Arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You are the mighty Elk that none can conquer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Tribes shall own you for their King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus, say the Genii, does your Dream intend.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+
+
+<div class="hangindent"><p>[<i>Looking up to Heaven in a praying posture for a small space,
+says:</i>]</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Had I but known you was resolv'd on War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And War against those Heretics the English,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I need not to have ask'd a God or Saint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To signify the Import of your Dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your great Design shall have a prosperous End,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis by the Gods approv'd, and must succeed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Angels and Saints are dancing now in Heaven:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Enemies are theirs, are hated by them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And they'll protect and help you as their Champion,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">That fights their Battles, and defends their Cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our great St. Peter is himself a Warrior;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He drew his Sword against such Infidels,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now, like him, you'll gain immortal Honour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Gods in Heaven and Saints on Earth will praise you.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Gods and Genii do as you have said.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I'll to the Chiefs, and hasten them to Arms.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Conjurer</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This, by St. Peter, goes as I would have it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Conjurer agreed with me to pump him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or else deny to solve his dubious Vision:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But, that we've so agreed in our Responses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is all mere Providence, and rul'd by Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To give us further Credit with this Indian.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now he is fix'd&mdash;will wage immediate War&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This will be joyful News in France and Rome,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Ponteach is in Arms, and won't allow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The English to possess their new-gain'd Empire:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he has slain their Troops, destroy'd their Forts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Expell'd them from the Lakes to their old Limits:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he prefers the French, and will assist<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To repossess them of this fertile Land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By all the Saints, of this I'll make a Merit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Declare myself to be the wise Projector;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This may advance me towards St. Peter's Chair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And these blind Infidels by Accident<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May have a Hand in making me a Pope&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But stop&mdash;Won't this defeat my other Purpose?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To gain the Mohawk Princess to my Wishes?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No&mdash;by the holy Virgin, I'll surprise her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And have one hearty Revel in her Charms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now I'll hasten to this Indian Council;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I may do something there that's apropos.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span> <i>An Indian Senate-House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>, <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>, <span class="smcap">Philip</span>, <span class="smcap">Astinaco</span>, <span class="smcap">Bear</span>, <span class="smcap">Wolf</span>, and
+French <span class="smcap">Priest</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are all the Chiefs and Warriors here assembled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we expect to honour this Day's Council?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All are conven'd except the Mohawk King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who, as we are inform'd, denies his Presence.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I've half succeeded with the stubborn Chief.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He will not join in Council, but hath promised,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till further Notice, not to be our Foe:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'll see how we unite, and what Success<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attends our Arms; in short, he gives strong Hints<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That he will soon befriend the common Cause.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Do what he will, 'tis this explains my Meaning;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Taking&nbsp;up&nbsp;the&nbsp;hatchet.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">You all are well appris'd of my Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which every passing Moment but confirms:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, my Heart's pain'd while I withhold my Hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From Blood and Vengeance on our hated Foes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tho' I should stand alone, I'll try my Power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To punish their Encroachments, Frauds, and Pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet tho' I die, it is my Country's Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis better thus to die than be despis'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Better to die than be a Slave to Cowards,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Better to die than see my Friends abus'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Aged scorn'd, the Young despis'd and spurn'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Better to die than see my Country ruin'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Myself, my Sons, my Friends reduc'd to Famine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Expell'd from hence to barren Rocks and Mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To curse our wretched Fate and pine in Want;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our pleasant Lakes and Fertile Lands usurp'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Strangers, Ravagers, rapacious Christians.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who is it don't prefer a Death in War<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To this impending Wretchedness and Shame?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who is it loves his Country, Friends, or Self,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And does not feel Resentment in his Soul?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who is it sees their growing Strength and Power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And how we waste and fail by swift Degrees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That does not think it Time to rouse and arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kill the Serpent ere we feel it sting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fall the Victims of its painful Poison?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! could our Fathers from their Country see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their ancient Rights encroach'd upon and ravag'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we their Children slow, supine, and careless<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To keep the Liberty and Land they left us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tamely fall a Sacrifice to Knaves!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How would their Bosoms glow with patriot Shame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see their Offspring so unlike themselves?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They dared all Dangers to defend their Rights,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor tamely bore an Insult from a Foe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their plain rough Souls were brave and full of Fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lovers of War, nor knew the Pain of Fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rouse, then, ye Sons of ancient Heroes, rouse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Put on your Arms, and let us act a Part<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worthy the Sons of such renowned Chiefs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor urge I you to Dangers that I shun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or mean to act my Part by Words alone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Hand shall wield the Hatchet in the Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These Feet pursue the frighted running Foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Body rush into the hottest Battle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There should I fall, I shall secure my Honour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, dying, urge my Countrymen to Vengeance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With more Success than all the Force of Words.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should I survive, I'll shed the foremost Tear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er my brave Countrymen that chance to fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll be the foremost to revenge their Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, while I live, honour both them and theirs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I add no more, but wait to hear your Minds.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tho' I'm a Warrior, and delight in Arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have oft with Pleasure heard the Sound of Battle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oft return'd with Victory and Triumph;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I'm not fond to fight without just Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or shed the Blood of Men for my Diversion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I have seen, with my own Eyes I've seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">High Provocations from our present Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Pride and Insults, Knavery and Frauds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their large Encroachments on our common Rights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which every Day increase, are seen by all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grown so common, they are disregarded.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What calls on us more loudly for Revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is their Contempt and Breach of public Faith.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we complain, they sometimes promise fair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When we grow restless, Treaties are propos'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Promises are gilded then with Presents.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is the End? Still the old Trade goes on;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Colonels, Governors, and mighty Men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cheat, lie, and break their solemn Promises,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And take no care to have our Wrongs redress'd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their King is distant, would he hear our Prayers:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still we've no other Way to come at Justice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But by our Arms to punish Wrongs like these,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Wrongs like these are national and public,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Concern us all, and call for public Vengeance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Wrongs like these are recent in our Minds.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Public or private Wrongs, no matter which.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think our Hunters ought to be reveng'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Bodies are found torn by rav'nous Beasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But who doubts they were kill'd by Englishmen?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Heads are scalp'd, their Arms and Jewels gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Beasts of Prey can have no Use for these.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No, they were murdered, slyly, basely shot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who that has a Heart does not resent it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! how I long to tear their mangled Limbs!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, I could eat their Hearts, and drink their Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And revel in their Torments, Pains, and Tortures;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, though I go alone, I'll seek Revenge.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Astinaco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is the Fire and Madness of your Youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And must be curb'd to do your Country Service.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Facts are not always what they seem to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this perhaps may be the Fault of One<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom their Laws punish if you once detect him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall we then, to revenge your Countrymen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To recompense a Wrong by one committed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rouse all to Arms, and make a general Slaughter?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis higher Motives move my Mind to War,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make me zealous in the common Cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But hear me&mdash;'Tis no Trifle we're upon&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we have Wisdom, it must now be used;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we have Numbers, they must be united;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we have Strength, it must be all exerted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we have Courage it must be inflamed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Art and Stratagem be practis'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We've more to do than fright a Pigeon Roost,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or start a timorous Flock of running Deer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, we've a strong, a warlike stubborn Foe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unus'd to be repuls'd and quit the Field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, flush'd with Victories and long Success,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Numbers, Strength, and Courage all renown'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis little of them that you see or know.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've seen their Capital, their Troops and Stores,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Ships, their Magazines of Death and Vengeance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, what is more, I've seen their potent King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who like a God sits over all the World,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thunders forth his Vengeance thro' the Earth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When he is pleas'd, Smiles sit upon his Face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Goodness flows in Rivers at his Feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When he's provok'd, 'tis like a fiery Tempest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All's Terror and Amazement in his Presence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And frighted Heroes trembling flee his Wrath.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What then is to be done? what may we hope?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At most, by secret, sly, and subtle Means<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To curb these vagrant Outcasts of his Subjects,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secure our Countries from their further Ravage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make ourselves of more Importance to them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps procure a Peace to our Advantage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this I'll join and head my valiant Troops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who will not fail to act a valiant Part.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">The Bear.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What is the Greatness of their King to us?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What of his Strength or Wisdom? Shall we fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Lion chain'd, or in another World?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or what avails his flowing Goodness to us?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does not the ravenous Tyger feed her Young?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fierce Panther fawn upon his Mate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do not the Wolves defend and help their Fellows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The poisonous Serpent feed her hissing Brood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And open wide her Mouth for their Protection?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So this good King shows Kindness to his own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And favours them, to make a Prey of others;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But at his Hands we may expect no Favour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look back, my Friends, to our Forefathers' Time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is their Country? where their pleasant Haunts?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The running Streams and shady Forests where?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They chas'd the flying Game, and liv'd in Plenty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo, these proud Strangers now possess the Whole;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Cities, Towns, and Villages arise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Forests are spoil'd, the Haunts of Game destroy'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Sea Coasts made one general Waste;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Between the Rivers Torrent-like they sweep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drive our Tribes toward the setting Sun.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They who once liv'd on yon delightful Plains<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are now no more, their very Name is lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Sons of potent Kings, subdu'd and murder'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are Vagrants, and unknown among their Neighbours.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where will the Ravage stop? the Ruin where?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does not the Torrent rush with growing Speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hurry us to the same wretched End?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us grow wise then by our Fathers' Folly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unite our Strength, too long it's been divided,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mutual Fears and Jealousies obtain'd:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This has encourag'd our encroaching Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we'll convince them, once, we dare oppose them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">The Wolf.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet we have Strength by which we may oppose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But every Day this Strength declines and fails.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our great Forefathers, ere these Strangers came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Liv'd by the Chace, with Nature's Gifts content,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cooling Fountain quench'd their raging Thirst.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doctors, and Drugs, and Med'cines were unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even Age itself was free from Pain and Sickness.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swift as the Wind, o'er Rocks and Hills they chas'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flying Game, the bounding Stag outwinded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tir'd the savage Bear, and tam'd the Tyger;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Evening feasted on the past Day's Toil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor then fatigu'd; the merry Dance and Song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Succeeded; still with every rising Sun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Sport renew'd; or if some daring Foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Provok'd their Wrath, they bent the hostile Bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor waited his Approach, but rush'd with Speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fearless of Hunger, Thirst, Fatigue, or Death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we their soften'd Sons, a puny Race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are weak in Youth, fear Dangers where they're not;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are weary'd with what was to them a Sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Panting and breathless in One short Hour's Chace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Effort of our Strength is feeble.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We're poison'd with the Infection of our Foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their very Looks and Actions are infectious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in deep Silence spread Destruction round them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bethink yourselves while any Strength remains;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dare to be like your Fathers, brave and strong,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor further let the growing Poison spread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And would you stop it, you must resolve to conquer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Destroy their Forts and Bulwarks, burn their Towns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keep them at a greater Distance from us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! 'tis a Day I long have wish'd to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, aged as I am, my Youth returns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To act with Vigour in so good a Cause.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, you shall see the old Wolf will not fail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To head his Troops, and urge them on to Battle.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your Minds are all for War, we'll not delay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor doubt but others gladly will comply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When they behold our Union and Success.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This Holy Priest has something to propose<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That may excite us all to greater Zeal.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let him be heard: 'Tis something from his Gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And may import the common Interest much.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<p class="center">[<i>Coming from one side, where he hath stood listening.</i>]</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis not to shew my Eloquence of Speech,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or drown your Senses with unmeaning Sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I desire Admittance to your Council;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is an Impulse from the Gods that moves me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That what I say will be to your Advantage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! With what secret Pleasure I behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So many wise and valiant Kings unite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in a Cause by Gods and Saints espous'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaven smiles on your Design, and it shall prosper.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You're going to fight the Enemies of God;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rebels and Traitors to the King of Kings;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, those who once betray'd and kill'd his Son,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who came to save you Indians from Damnation&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He was an Indian, therefore they destroy'd him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He rose again and took his flight to Heaven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But when his Foes are slain he'll quick return;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And be your kind Protector, Friend, and King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be therefore brave and fight his Battles for him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spare not his Enemies, where-e'r you find 'em:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The more you murder them, the more you please him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kill all you captivate, both old and young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mothers and Children, let them feel your Tortures;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He that shall kill a Briton, merits Heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And should you chance to fall, you'll be convey'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By flying Angels to your King that's there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where these your hated Foes can never come.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doubt you the Truth of this my Declaration?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I have a Witness here that cannot lie.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pulling&nbsp;out&nbsp;a&nbsp;burning&nbsp;glass.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">This Glass was touch'd by your great Saviour's Hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And after left in holy Peter's Care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I command, it brings down Fire from Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">To witness for me that I tell no Lie.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>The&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>&nbsp;gather&nbsp;round&nbsp;and&nbsp;gaze.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Behold&mdash;Great God, send Fire, convince these Indian Kings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">That I'm thy Servant, and report the Truth,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>In&nbsp;a&nbsp;very&nbsp;praying&nbsp;posture&nbsp;and&nbsp;solemn&nbsp;canting&nbsp;tone.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Am sent to teach them what they ought to do,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To kill and scalp, to torture and torment<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Thy murderous treacherous Foes, the hateful English.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>It&nbsp;takes&nbsp;fire;&nbsp;the&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>&nbsp;are&nbsp;amaz'd,&nbsp;and&nbsp;retreat&nbsp;from&nbsp;it.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who now can doubt the Justice of our Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or this Man's Mission from the King above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that we ought to follow his Commands?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Astinaco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis wonderful indeed&mdash;It must be so&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This cannot be a Cheat&mdash;It is from Heaven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">All.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We are convinc'd and ready to obey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We are impatient to revenge our King.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<p class="center">[<i>Takes up the bloody hatchet and flourishes it round.</i>]</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus do I raise the Hatchet from the Ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sharpen'd and bright may it be stain'd with Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never dull'd nor rusted till we've conquer'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And taught proud Englishmen to dread its Edge.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">All.</span></p>
+<p class="center">[<i>Flourishing their hatchets, and striking them upon a block.</i>]</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus will we hew and carve their mangled Bodies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And give them to the Beasts and Birds for Food.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And thus our Names and Honours will maintain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Trees remain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our unborn Children shall rejoice to hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How we their Fathers made the English fear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">The War Song.</span></p>
+
+<div class="hangindent"><p><i>To the tune of "Over the Hills and far away," sung by <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>,
+the head warrior. They all join in the Chorus, and dance, while
+that is singing, in a circle round him; and during the Chorus the
+music plays.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where-e'r the Sun displays his Light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Moon is seen to shine by Night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where-e'r the noisy Rivers flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Trees and Grass and Herbage grow.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Be 't known that we this War begin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With proud insulting Englishmen;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">The Hatchet we have lifted high,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Holding&nbsp;up&nbsp;their&nbsp;hatchets.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">And them we'll conquer or we'll die.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Edge is keen, the Blade is bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing saves them but their Flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then like Heroes we'll pursue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the Hills and Valleys through.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They'll like frighted Women quake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When they behold a hissing Snake;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or like timorous Deer away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave both Goods and Arms a Prey.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pain'd with Hunger, Cold, or Heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Haste they'll from our Land retreat;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">While we'll employ our scalping Knives&mdash;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Drawing&nbsp;and&nbsp;flourishing&nbsp;their&nbsp;scalping&nbsp;knives.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Take off their Skulls, and spare their Lives.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or in their Country they'll complain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor ever dare return again;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or if they should they'll rue the Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And curse the Guide that shew'd the Way.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If Fortune smiles, we'll not be long<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ere we return with Dance and Song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ah! if we should chance to die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear Wives and Children do not cry.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our Friends will ease your Grief and Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By double Vengeance on the Foe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will kill, and scalp, and shed their Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where-e'r they find them thro' the Wood.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No pointing Foe shall ever say<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas there the vanquish'd Indian lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or boasting to his Friends relate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Tale of our unhappy Fate.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let us with Courage then away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hunt and seize the frighted Prey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor think of Children, Friend, or Wife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While there's an Englishman alive.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In Heat and Cold, thro' Wet and Dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will we pursue, and they shall fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Seas which they a Refuge think,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And there in wretched Crowds they'll sink.&mdash;<i>Chorus.</i><br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;omnes&nbsp;singing.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The End of the Third Act.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"></a>ACT IV.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span> <i>The Border of a Grove.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span> to <span class="smcap">Philip</span> and <span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Troops are all assembled, some have march'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps are now engag'd, and warm in Battle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The rest have Orders where to bend their Course.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each Tribe is headed by a valiant Chief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except the Bulls which fall to one of you;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other stays to serve the State at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or back us, should our Forces prove too weak.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Bulls are brave, had they a brave Commander,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They'd push the Battle home with sure Success.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd choose of all the Troops to be their Leader;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For tho' I'd neither Courage, Skill, nor Strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour attends the Man who heads the Brave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many are dubb'd for Heroes in these Times,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who owe their Fame to those whom they commanded.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But we shall ne'er suspect your Title false;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Already you've confirm'd your Fame and Courage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prov'd your Skill and Strength as a Commander.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Still I'll endeavour to deserve your Praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor long delay the Honour you propose.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But this will interfere with your Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And oversets the Scheme of winning Hendrick.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Ah true&mdash;and kills your Hope&mdash;This Man 's in Love.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>To&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Indeed! In Love with whom? King Hendrick's Daughter?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The same; and I've engag'd to win her Father.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This may induce him to espouse our Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which likewise you engag'd should be effected.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But then I can't command as was propos'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must resign that Honour to this Lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While I conduct and form this double Treaty.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am content if you but please yourselves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By Means and Ways not hurtful to the Public.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Was not the Public serv'd, no private Ends<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would tempt me to detain him from the Field,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or in his stead propose myself a Leader;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But every Power I have shall be exerted:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if in Strength or Wisdom I should fail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dare presume you'll ever find me faithful.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I doubt it not&mdash;You'll not delay your Charge;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">The Troops are all impatient for the Battle.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Philip</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is not to my Mind&mdash;But I must do it&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Philip heads the Troops, my Hopes are blown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must prepare, and leave the Event to Fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And him&mdash;'Tis fix'd&mdash;There is no other Choice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Monelia I must leave, and think of Battles&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She will be safe&mdash;But, Oh! the Chance of War&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perhaps I fall&mdash;and never see her more&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This shocks my Soul in spite of Resolution&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bare Perhaps is more than Daggers to me&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To part for ever! I'd rather stand against<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Embattled Troops than meet this single Thought;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Thought in Poison dipp'd and pointed round;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! how it pains my doubting trembling Heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must not harbour it&mdash;My Word is gone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">My Honour calls&mdash;and, what is more, my Love.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Noise&nbsp;of&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Monelia</span>&nbsp;striving&nbsp;behind&nbsp;the&nbsp;scene.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">What Sound is that?&mdash;It is Monelia's Voice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And in Distress&mdash;What Monster gives her Pain?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Going&nbsp;towards&nbsp;the&nbsp;sound,&nbsp;the&nbsp;Scene&nbsp;opens&nbsp;and&nbsp;discovers&nbsp;the <span class="smcap">Priest</span>&nbsp;with&nbsp;her.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span> <i><span class="smcap">Monelia</span> and <span class="smcap">Priest</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What do I see? The holy <span class="smcap">Priest</span> is with her.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<p class="center">[<i>Struggling with the <span class="smcap">Priest</span>, and trying to disengage herself.</i>]</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, I would sooner die than be dishonour'd&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut my own Throat, or drown me in the Lake.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Do you love Indians better than us white Men?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, should an Indian make the foul Attempt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd murder him, or kill my wretched Self.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I must I can, and will enjoy you now.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You must! You sha'n't, you cruel, barbarous Christian.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Hold, thou mad Tyger&mdash;What Attempt is this?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Seizing&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Are you a Christian Priest? What do you here?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pushes&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">What was his Will, Monelia? He is dumb.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May he be dumb and blind, and senseless quite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That had such brutal Baseness in his Mind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Base false Deceiver, what could you intend?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Making&nbsp;towards&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh I am faint&mdash;You have preserv'd my Honour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Which he, foul Christian, thirsted to destroy.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Priest</span>&nbsp;attempts&nbsp;to&nbsp;go.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stay; leave your Life to expiate your Crime:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Your heated Blood shall pay for your Presumption.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Offering&nbsp;to&nbsp;strike&nbsp;him&nbsp;with&nbsp;a&nbsp;hatchet.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good Prince, forbear your pious Hand from Blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I did not know you was this Maiden's Lover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I took her for a Stranger, half your Foe.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Did you not know she was King Hendrick's Daughter?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did you not know that she was not your Wife?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have you not told us, holy Men like you<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are by the Gods forbid all fleshly Converse?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have you not told us, Death, and Fire, and Hell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Await those who are incontinent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or dare to violate the Rites of Wedlock?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That your God's Mother liv'd and died a Virgin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thereby set Example to her Sex?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What means all this? Say you such Things to us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That you alone may revel in these Pleasures?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have a Dispensation from St. Peter<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To quench the Fire of Love when it grows painful.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This makes it innocent like Marriage Vows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all our holy Priests, and she herself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Commit no Sin in this Relief of Nature:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, being holy, there is no Pollution<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Communicated from us as from others;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, Maids are holy after we've enjoy'd them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, should the Seed take Root, the Fruit is pure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh vain Pretense! Falsehood and foul Deception!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">None but a Christian could devise such Lies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did I not fear it might provoke your Gods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Tongue should never frame Deceit again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If there are Gods, and such as you have told us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They must abhor all Baseness and Deceit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will not fail to punish Crimes like yours.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them I leave you&mdash;But avoid my Presence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor let me ever see your hated Head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or hear your lying Tongue within this Country.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Now by St. Peter I must go&mdash;He's raging.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That Day I do, by your great dreadful God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Hand shall cleave your Head, and spill your Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not all your Prayers, and Lies, and Saints shall save you.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I've got his Father's Secret, and will use it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Such Disappointment ought to be reveng'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Don't mutter here, and conjure up your Saints,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I value not their Curses, or your Prayers.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Stepping&nbsp;towards&nbsp;the&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Priest</span>&nbsp;to&nbsp;hurry&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Priest.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">By all the Saints, young Man, thou shalt repent it.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Base, false Dissembler&mdash;Tyger, Snake, a Christian!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I hate the Sight; I fear the very Name.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O Prince, what has not your kind Presence sav'd me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It sav'd to me more than my Father's Empire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far more than Crowns and Worlds&mdash;It sav'd Monelia,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Hope of whom is more than the Creation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this I feel the Triumph of an Hero,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glory more than if I'd conquer'd Kingdoms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, I am thine, I'm more than ever thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am your Captive now, your lawful Prize:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You've taken me in War, a dreadful War!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And snatch'd me from the hungry Tyger's Jaw.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More than my Life and Service is your Due,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And had I more I would devote it to you.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O my Monelia! rich is my Reward,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had I lost Life itself in the Encounter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But still I fear that Fate will snatch you from me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where is your Brother? Why was you alone?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Torax</span>, from listening to their discourse.</i></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here am I: What would you of me?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Torax!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've been assaulted by a barbarous Man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by mere Accident escap'd my Ruin.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What Foe is here? The English are not come?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No: But a Christian lurk'd within the Grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Christian is a Foe to Virtue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Insidious, subtle, cruel, base, and false!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like Snakes, their very Eyes are full of Poison;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where they are not, Innocence is safe.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The holy Priest! Is he so vile a Man?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard him mutter Threat'nings as I past him.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I spar'd his guilty Life, but drove him hence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Pain of Death and Tortures, never more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To tread the Earth, or breathe the Air with me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be warn'd by this to better tend your Charge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You see how Mischiefs lie conceal'd about us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We tread on Serpents ere we hear them hiss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Tygers lurk to seize the incautious Prey.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must this Hour lead forth my Troops to Battle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They're now in Arms, and waiting my Command.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What Safety shall I have when you are gone?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must not, cannot, will not longer tarry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest other Christians, or some other Foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Attempt my Ruin.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Torax will be your Guard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Honour suffers, should I now decline;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is my Country's Cause; I've pawn'd my Word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prevented Philip, to make sure of you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He stays. 'Tis all in favour to our Love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We must at present please ourselves with Hopes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! my fond Heart no more conceals its Flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear, my Prince, I fear our Fates are cruel:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's something whispers in my anxious Breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That if you go, I ne'er shall see you more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! how her Words unman and melt my Soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">As if her Fears were Prophecies of Fate.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">I will not go and leave you thus in Fears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll frame Excuses&mdash;Philip shall command&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll find some other Means to turn the King;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll venture Honour, Fortune, Life, and Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rather than trust you from my Sight again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For what avails all that the World can give?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If you're withheld, all other Gifts are Curses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fame and Fortune serve to make me wretched.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now you grow wild&mdash;You must not think of staying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our only Hope, you know, depends on Philip.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will not fear, but hope for his Success,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And your Return with Victory and Triumph,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Love and Honour both may crown our Joy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now this is kind; I am myself again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You had unman'd and soften'd all my Soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Disarm'd my Hand, and cowardiz'd my Heart:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now in every Vein I feel an Hero,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Defy the thickest Tempest of the War:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, like a Lion conscious of his Strength,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fearless of Death I'll rush into the Battle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll fight, I'll conquer, triumph and return;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Laurels I'll gain and lay them at your Feet.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Monelia.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May the Success attend you that you wish!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May our whole Scheme of Happiness succeed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May our next Meeting put an End to Fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fortune shine upon us in full Blaze!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May Fate preserve you as her Darling Charge!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May all the Gods and Goddesses, and Saints,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If conscious of our Love, turn your Protectors!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the great thundering God with Lightning burn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Him that but means to interrupt your Peace.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span> <i>Indian Senate-House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span> and <span class="smcap">Philip</span>.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Say you that Torax then is fond of War?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is, and waits impatient my Return.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis friendly in you thus to help your Brother;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I suspect his Courage in the Field;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A love-sick Boy makes but a cow'rdly Captain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His Love may spur him on with greater Courage;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He thinks he's fighting for a double Prize;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And but for this, and Hopes of greater Service<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In forwarding the Treaty with the Mohawk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I now had been in Arms and warm in Battle.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I much commend the Wisdom of your Stay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Prepare yourself, and hasten to his Quarters;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You cannot make th' Attempt with too much Speed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge ev'ry Argument with Force upon him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge my strong Friendship, urge your Brother's Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His Daughter's Happiness, the common Good;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The general Sense of all the Indian Chiefs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Baseness of our Foes, our Hope of Conquest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Richness of the Plunder if we speed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we'll divide and share it as he pleases;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That our Success is certain if he joins us.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Urge these, and what besides to you occurs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All cannot fail, I think, to change his Purpose.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">You'd think so more if you knew all my Plan.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">I'm all prepar'd now I've receiv'd your Orders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But first must speak t' his Children ere I part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am to meet them in the further Grove.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hark! there's a Shout&mdash;We've News of some Success;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is the Noise of Victory and Triumph.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Enter&nbsp;a&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Messenger</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Messenger.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Huzza! for our brave Warriors are return'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loaded with Plunder and the Scalps of Christians.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Enter&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Warriors</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What have you done? Why all this Noise and Shouting?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Three Forts are taken, all consum'd and plunder'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The English in them all destroy'd by Fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except some few escap'd to die with Hunger.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We've smok'd the Bear in spite of all his Craft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burnt up their Den, and made them take the Field:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mighty Colonel Cockum and his Captain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Have dull'd our Tomhocks; here are both their Scalps:<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Holding&nbsp;out&nbsp;the&nbsp;two&nbsp;scalps.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Their Heads are split, our Dogs have eat their Brains.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If that be all they've eat, the Hounds will starve.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">3rd Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">These are the scalps of those two famous Cheats<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Who bought our Furs for Rum, and sold us Water.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Holding&nbsp;out&nbsp;the&nbsp;scalps,&nbsp;which&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>&nbsp;takes.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Our Men are loaded with their Furs again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other Plunder from the Villains' Stores.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">All this is brave!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Tossing&nbsp;up&nbsp;the&nbsp;scalps,&nbsp;which&nbsp;others&nbsp;catch,&nbsp;and toss&nbsp;and&nbsp;throw&nbsp;them&nbsp;about.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">This Way we'll serve them all.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We'll cover all our Cabins with their Scalps.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warriors.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We'll fat our Dogs upon their Brains and Blood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ere long we'll have their Governors in Play.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And knock their grey-wig'd Scalps about this Way.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Game is started; Warriors, hunt away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor let them find a Place to shun your Hatchets.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">All Warriors.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We will: We will soon shew you other Scalps.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bring some alive; I long to see them dance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Fire and Flames, it us'd to make them caper.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warriors.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Such Sport enough you'll have before we've done.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This still will help to move the Mohawk King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spare not to make the most of our Success.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Trust me for that&mdash;Hark; there's another Shout;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Shouting&nbsp;without.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">A Shout for Prisoners&mdash;Now I have my Sport.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is indeed; and there's a Number too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Warriors</span>.</i></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We've broke the Barrier, burnt their Magazines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slew Hundreds of them, and pursu'd the rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quite to their Settlements.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There we took<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their famous Hunters Honnyman and Orsbourn:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">The last is slain, this is his bloody Scalp.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Tossing&nbsp;it&nbsp;up.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">With them we found the Guns of our lost Hunters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other Proofs that they're the Murderers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, Honnyman confesses the base Deed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, boasting, says, he's kill'd a Score of Indians.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">3rd Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This is the bloody Hunter: This his Wife;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Leading&nbsp;them&nbsp;forward,&nbsp;pinioned&nbsp;and&nbsp;tied&nbsp;together.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">With two young Brats that will be like their Father.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We took them in their Nest, and spoil'd their Dreams.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh I could eat their Hearts, and drink their Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were they not Poison, and unfit for Dogs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, you Blood-hunter, have you lost your Feeling?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">You Tygress Bitch! You Breeder up of Serpents!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Slapping&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Honnyman</span>&nbsp;in&nbsp;the&nbsp;face,&nbsp;and&nbsp;kicking&nbsp;his&nbsp;wife.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stop&mdash;We must first consult which way to torture.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whether all shall die&mdash;We will retire.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip</span> [<i>going</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Take care they don't escape.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">They're bound secure.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Indians</span>;&nbsp;manent&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Prisoners</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, Honnyman, how desperate is our Case!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's not a single Hope of Mercy left:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How savage, cruel, bloody did they look!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rage and Revenge appear'd in every Face.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You may depend upon 't, we all must die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've made such Havoc, they'll have no Compassion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They only wait to study out new Torments:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All that can be inflicted or endur'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We may expect from their relentless Hands.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their brutal Eyes ne'er shed a pitying Tear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their savage Hearts ne'er had a Thought of Mercy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Bosoms swell with Rancour and Revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, Devil-like, delight in others' Plagues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love Torments, Torture, Anguish, Fire, and Pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep-fetch'd Groan, the melancholy Sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the Terrors and Distress of Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These are their Music, and enhance their Joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Silence then submit yourself to Fate:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make no Complaint, nor ask for their Compassion;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This will confound and half destroy their Mirth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, this may put a stop to many Tortures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To which our Prayers and Tears and Plaints would move them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, dreadful Scene! Support me, mighty God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pass the Terrors of this dismal Hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All dark with Horrors, Torments, Pains, and Death!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, let me not despair of thy kind Help;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give Courage to my wretched, groaning Heart!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tush, Silence! You'll be overheard.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, my dear Husband! 'Tis an Hour for Prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An Infidel would pray in our Distress:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An Atheist would believe there was some God<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To pity Pains and Miseries so great.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If there's a God, he knows our secret Wishes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This Noise can be no Sacrifice to him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It opens all the Springs of our weak Passions.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Besides, it will be Mirth to our Tormentors;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They'll laugh, and call this Cowardice in Christians<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And say Religion makes us all mere Women.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I will suppress my Grief in Silence then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And secretly implore the Aid of Heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Forbid to pray! Oh, dreadful Hour indeed!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pausing.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Think you they will not spare our dear sweet Babes?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must these dear Innocents be put to Tortures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or dash'd to Death, and share our wretched Fate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Must this dear Babe that hangs upon my Breast<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Looking&nbsp;upon&nbsp;her&nbsp;infant.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Be snatch'd by savage Hands and torn in Pieces!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, how it rends my Heart! It is too much!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tygers would kindly soothe a Grief like mine;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unconscious Rocks would melt, and flow in Tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">At this last Anguish of a Mother's Soul.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pauses,&nbsp;and&nbsp;views&nbsp;her&nbsp;child&nbsp;again.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Sweet Innocent! It smiles at this Distress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fondly draws this final Comfort from me:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Dear Babe, no more: Dear Tommy too must die,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Looking&nbsp;at&nbsp;her&nbsp;other&nbsp;child.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Oh, my sweet First-born! Oh, I'm overpower'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pausing.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I had determin'd not to shed a Tear;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Weeping.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">But you have all unman'd my Resolution;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You've call'd up all the Father in my Soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Why have you nam'd my Children? Oh, my Son!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Looking&nbsp;upon&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">My only Son&mdash;My Image&mdash;Other Self!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How have I doted on the charming Boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fondly plann'd his Happiness in Life!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now his Life ends: Oh, the Soul-bursting Thought!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He falls a Victim for his Father's Folly.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had I not kill'd their Friends, they might have spar'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Wife, my Children, and perhaps myself,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this sad, dreadful Scene had never happen'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But 'tis too late that I perceive my Folly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Heaven forgive, 'tis all I dare to hope for.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What! have you been a Murderer indeed!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kill'd the Indians for Revenge and Plunder?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I thought you rash to tempt their brutal Rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But did not dream you guilty as you said.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am indeed. I murder'd many of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thought it not amiss, but now I fear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O shocking Thought! Why have you let me know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yourself thus guilty in the Eye of Heaven?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I and my dear Babes were by you brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To this Extreme of Wretchedness and Woe?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why have you let me know the solemn Weight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of horrid Guilt that lies upon us all?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To have died innocent, and seen these Babes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By savage Hands dash'd to immortal Rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This had been light, for this implies no Crime:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now we die as guilty Murderers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not savage Indians, but just Heaven's Vengeance<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pursues our Lives with all these Pains and Tortures.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is a Thought that points the keenest Sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leaves no Room for Anguish to be heighten'd.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Upbraid me not, nor lay my Guilt to Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You and these Fruits of our past Morning Love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are innocent. I feel the Smart and Anguish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Stings of Conscience, and my Soul on Fire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's not a Hell more painful than my Bosom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor Torments for the Damn'd more keenly pointed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How could I think to murder was no Sin?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, my lost Neighbour! I seduc'd him too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now death with all its Terrors disappears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all I fear 's a dreadful Something-after;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Mind forebodes a horrid, woful Scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Guilt is chain'd and tortur'd with Despair.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Mind oppress'd with Guilt may find Relief.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, could I reach the pitying Ear of Heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all my Soul evaporate in Sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'T would ask Forgiveness! but I fear too late;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And next I'd ask that you and these dear Babes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might bear no Part in my just Punishment.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who knows but by pathetic Prayers and Tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their savage Bosoms may relent towards you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fix their Vengeance where just Heaven points it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I still will hope, and every Motive urge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should I succeed, and melt their rocky Hearts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd take it as a Presage of my Pardon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And die with Comfort when I see you live.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Death&nbsp;halloo&nbsp;is&nbsp;heard&nbsp;without.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hark! they are coming&mdash;Hear that dreadful Halloo.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is Death's solemn Sentence to us all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are resolv'd, and all Entreaty's vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh horrid Scene! how shall I act my Part?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was it but simple Death to me alone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But all your Deaths are mine, and mine the Guilt.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Indians</span> with stakes, hatchets, and firebrands.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, horrid Preparation, more than Death!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Plant down the Stakes, and let them be confin'd:<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;loose&nbsp;them&nbsp;from&nbsp;each&nbsp;other.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">First kill the Tygers, then destroy their Whelps.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This Brat is in our Way, I will dispatch it.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Offering&nbsp;to&nbsp;snatch&nbsp;the&nbsp;sucking&nbsp;infant.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, my dear Babe shall in my Bosom die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is its Nourishment, and there its End.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Die both together then, 'twill mend the Sport;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tie the other to his Father, make a Pair;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then each will have a Consort in their Pains;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Their sweet Brats with them, to increase the Dance.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;are&nbsp;tied&nbsp;down,&nbsp;facing&nbsp;each&nbsp;other&nbsp;upon&nbsp;their&nbsp;knees,&nbsp;and their&nbsp;backs&nbsp;to&nbsp;the&nbsp;stakes.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All now is ready; they are bound secure.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Whene'er you please, their jovial Dance begins.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>To&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, my dear Husband! What a Sight is this!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could ever fabling Poet draw Distress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To such Perfection! Sad Catastrophe!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are not Colours for such deep-dyed Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor words expressive of such heighten'd Anguish.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ourselves, our Babes, O cruel, cruel Fate!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This, this is Death indeed with all its Terrors.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is there no secret Pity in your Minds?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can you not feel some tender Passion move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When you behold the Innocent distress'd?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True, I am guilty, and will bear your Tortures:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take your Revenge by all the Arts of Torment;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Invent new Torments, lengthen out my Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And let me feel the keenest Edge of Pain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But spare this innocent afflicted Woman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those smiling Babes who never yet thought Ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They never did nor ever will offend you.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It cannot be: They are akin to you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well learnt to hunt and murder, kill and rob.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who ever spar'd a Serpent in the Egg?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or left young Tygers quiet in their Den?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or cherishes young Vipers in his Bosom?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Begin, begin; I'll lead the merry Dance.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Offering&nbsp;at&nbsp;the&nbsp;woman&nbsp;with&nbsp;a&nbsp;firebrand.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stop: Are we not unwise to kill this Woman?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or Sacrifice her Children to our Vengeance?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have not wrong'd us; can't do present Mischief.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know her Friends; they're rich and powerful,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in their Turn will take severe Revenge:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But if we spare, they'll hold themselves oblig'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And purchase their Redemption with rich Presents.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is not this better than an Hour's Diversion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear their Groans, and Plaints, and piteous Cries?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Warriors.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Your Counsel's wise, and much deserves our Praise;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They shall be spar'd.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Untie, and take them hence;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;untie&nbsp;the&nbsp;woman&nbsp;and&nbsp;the&nbsp;oldest&nbsp;child&nbsp;from&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Honnyman</span>, and&nbsp;retire&nbsp;a&nbsp;little&nbsp;to&nbsp;consult&nbsp;his&nbsp;death.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">When the War ends her Friends shall pay us for it.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I'd rather have the Sport than all the Pay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, now, kind Heaven, thou hast heard my Prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what's to follow I can meet with Patience.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Oh, my dear husband, could you too be freed!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Weeping.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Yet must I stay and suffer Torments with you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This seeming Mercy is but Cruelty!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I cannot leave you in this Scene of Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis easier far to stay and die together!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! but regard our Children's Preservation:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Conduct their Youth, and form their Minds to Virtue;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor let them know their Father's wretched End,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lest lawless Vengeance should betray them too.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If I must live, I must retire from hence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor see your fearful Agonies in Death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This would be more than all the Train of Torments.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The horrid Sight would sink me to the Dust;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These helpless Infants would become a Prey<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To worse than Beasts, to savage, bloody Men.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Leave me&mdash;They are prepar'd, and coming on&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heav'n save you all! Oh, 'tis the last dear Sight!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, may we meet where Fear and Grief are banish'd!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Dearest of Men, adieu&mdash;Adieu till then.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit,&nbsp;weeping&nbsp;with&nbsp;her&nbsp;children.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Bring Fire and Knives, and Clubs, and Hatchets all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Let the old Hunter feel the Smart of Pain.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;fall&nbsp;upon&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Honnyman</span>&nbsp;with&nbsp;various&nbsp;instruments&nbsp;of&nbsp;torture.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Oh! this is exquisite!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Groaning&nbsp;and&nbsp;struggling.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">1st Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hah! Does this make you dance?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Warrior.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is fine fat Game!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Make him caper.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Striking&nbsp;him&nbsp;with&nbsp;a&nbsp;club,&nbsp;kicking,&nbsp;&amp;c.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O ye eternal Powers, that rule on high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If in your Minds be Sense of human Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear my Complaints, and pity my Distress!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, call upon your Gods, you faint-heart Coward!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Honnyman.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, dreadful Racks! When will this Torment end?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, for a Respite from all Sense of Pain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">'Tis come&mdash;I go&mdash;You can&mdash;no more torment.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Dies.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">He's dead; he'll hunt no more; h' 'as done with Game.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Striking&nbsp;the&nbsp;dead&nbsp;body,&nbsp;and&nbsp;spitting&nbsp;in&nbsp;the&nbsp;face.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Drive hence his wretched Spirit, lest it plague us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Let him go hunt the Woods; he's now disarm'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;run&nbsp;round&nbsp;brushing&nbsp;the&nbsp;walls,&nbsp;&amp;c.,&nbsp;to&nbsp;dislodge&nbsp;the&nbsp;spirit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">All.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out, Hunter, out, your Business here is done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out to the Wilds, but do not take your Gun.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span> [<i>to the Spirit</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go, tell our Countrymen, whose Blood you shed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That the great Hunter Honnyman is dead:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That we're alive, we'll make the English know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whene'er they dare to serve us Indians so:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This will be joyful News to Friends from France,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">We'll join the Chorus then, and have a Dance.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;omnes,&nbsp;dancing,&nbsp;and&nbsp;singing&nbsp;the&nbsp;last&nbsp;two&nbsp;lines.</i></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>End of the Fourth Act.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="gap3"><a name="ACT_V" id="ACT_V"></a>ACT V.</h2>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span> <i>The Border of a Grove, in which <span class="smcap">Monelia</span> and <span class="smcap">Torax</span> are asleep.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Philip</span> [speaking to himself].</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As a dark Tempest brewing in the Air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For many Days hides Sun and Moon, and Stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length grown ripe, bursts forth and forms a Flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That frights both Men and Beasts, and drowns the Land;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So my dark Purpose now must have its Birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long nourish'd in my Bosom, 'tis matur'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And ready to astonish and embroil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kings and their Kingdoms, and decide their Fates.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Are they not here? Have I delay'd too long?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>He&nbsp;espies&nbsp;them&nbsp;asleep.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Yes, in a Posture too beyond my Hopes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Asleep! This is the Providence of Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And proves she patronizes my Design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And I'll show her that Philip is no Coward.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Taking&nbsp;up&nbsp;his&nbsp;hatchet&nbsp;in&nbsp;one&nbsp;hand,&nbsp;and&nbsp;scalping&nbsp;knife&nbsp;in the&nbsp;other,&nbsp;towards&nbsp;them.</i>]<br /></div>
+<span class="i0">A Moment now is more than Years to come:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Intrepid as I am, the Work is shocking.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>He&nbsp;retreats&nbsp;from&nbsp;them.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Is it their Innocence that shakes my Purpose?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No; I can tear the Suckling from the Breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drink their Blood who never knew a Crime.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it because my Brother's Charmer dies?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That cannot be, for that is my Revenge.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it because Monelia is a Woman?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I've long been blind and deaf to their Enchantments.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it because I take them thus unguarded?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No; though I act the Coward, it's a Secret.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is it shakes my firm and fix'd Resolve?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">'Tis childish Weakness: I'll not be unman'd.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Approaches&nbsp;and&nbsp;retreats&nbsp;again.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">There's something awful in the Face of Princes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he that sheds their Blood, assaults the Gods:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">But I'm a Prince, and 'tis by me they die;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Advances&nbsp;arm'd&nbsp;as&nbsp;before.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Each Hand contains the Fate of future Kings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And, were they Gods, I would not balk my Purpose.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Stabs&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Monelia</span>&nbsp;with&nbsp;the&nbsp;knife.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Hah! Philip, are you come? What can you mean?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Torax</span>&nbsp;starts&nbsp;and&nbsp;cries&nbsp;out.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Go learn my Meaning in the World of Spirits;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Knocks&nbsp;him&nbsp;down&nbsp;with&nbsp;his&nbsp;hatchet,&nbsp;&amp;c.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">'Tis now too late to make a Question of it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Play is ended [<i>Looking upon the bodies</i>], now succeeds the Farce.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Hullo! Help! Haste! the Enemy is here.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Calling&nbsp;at&nbsp;one&nbsp;of&nbsp;the&nbsp;doors,&nbsp;and&nbsp;returning.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Help is at Hand&mdash;But I must first be wounded:<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Wounds&nbsp;himself.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Now let the Gods themselves detect the Fraud.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter an <span class="smcap">Indian</span>.</i></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What means your Cry? Is any Mischief here?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Behold this flowing Blood; a desperate Wound!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Shewing&nbsp;his&nbsp;wound.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And there's a Deed that shakes the Root of Empires.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pointing&nbsp;to&nbsp;the&nbsp;bodies.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">2nd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, fatal Sight! the Mohawk Prince is murder'd.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">3rd Indian.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Princess too is weltering in her Blood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Both, both are gone; 'tis well that I escap'd.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>.</i></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What means this Outcry, Noise, and Tumult here?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh see, my Father! see the Blood of Princes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Sight that might provoke the Gods to weep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And drown the Country in a Flood of Tears.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great was my Haste, but could not stop the Deed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I rush'd among their Numbers for Revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">They frighted fled; there I receiv'd this Wound.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Shewing&nbsp;his&nbsp;wound&nbsp;to&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who, what were they? or where did they escape?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Band of English Warriors, bloody Dogs!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This Way they ran from my vindictive Arm,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pointing,&nbsp;&amp;c.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Which but for this base Wound would sure have stopp'd them.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Pursue, pursue, with utmost Speed pursue,<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>To&nbsp;the&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Warriors</span>&nbsp;present.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Outfly the Wind till you revenge this Blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">'Tis royal Blood, we count it as our own.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Warriors</span>&nbsp;in&nbsp;haste.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">This Scene is dark, and doubtful the Event;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some great Decree of Fate depends upon it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And mighty Good or Ill awaits Mankind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Blood of Princes cannot flow in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Gods must be in Council to permit it:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is the Harbinger of their Designs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To change, new-mould, and alter Things on Earth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And much I fear, 'tis ominous of Ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me and mine; it happen'd in my Kingdom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their Father's Rage will swell into a Torrent&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They were my Guests&mdash;His Wrath will centre here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our guilty Land hath drunk his Children's Blood.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Had I not seen the flying Murderers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Myself been wounded to revenge their Crime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had you not hasten'd to pursue the assassins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He might have thought us treacherous and false,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or wanting in our hospitable Care:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But now it cannot but engage his Friendship,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rouse him to Arms, and with a Father's Rage<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He'll point his Vengeance where it ought to fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thus this Deed, though vile and dark as Night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In its Events will open Day upon us,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prove of great Advantage to our State.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Haste then; declare our Innocence and Grief;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell the old King we mourn as for our own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And are determin'd to revenge his Wrongs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Assure him that our Enemies are his,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And rouse him like a Tyger to the Prey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I will with Speed; but first this bleeding Wound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Demands my Care, lest you lament me too.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit,&nbsp;to&nbsp;have&nbsp;his&nbsp;wound&nbsp;dress'd.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Pale, breathless Youths! Your Dignity still lives:<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Viewing&nbsp;the&nbsp;bodies.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Your Murderers were blind, or they'd have trembled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dar'd to wound such Majesty and Worth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It would have tam'd the savage running Bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made the raging Tyger fondly fawn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But your more savage Murderers were Christians.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, the distress'd good King! I feel for him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wish to comfort his desponding Heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">But your last Rites require my present Care.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span> <i>The Senate-House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span>, <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>, and others.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let all be worthy of the royal Dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spare no Expense to grace th' unhappy Scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And aggrandize the solemn, gloomy Pomp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all our mournful, melancholy Rites.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It shall be done; all Things are now preparing.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never were Funeral Rites bestow'd more just;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who knew them living, must lament them dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who sees them dead, must wish to grace their Tombs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the sad Respect of Grief and Tears.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Mourning is as general as the News;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grief sits on every Face, in every Eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gloomy Melancholy in Silence reigns:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing is heard but Sighs and sad Complaints,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if the First-born of the Realm were slain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus would I have it; let no Eye be dry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Heart unmov'd, let every Bosom swell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">With Sighs and Groans. What Shouting do I hear?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>A&nbsp;shouting&nbsp;without,&nbsp;repeated&nbsp;several&nbsp;times.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is the Shout of Warriors from the Battle;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">The Sound of Victory and great Success.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>He&nbsp;goes&nbsp;to&nbsp;listen&nbsp;to&nbsp;it.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Such is the State of Men and human Things;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We weep, we smile, we mourn, and laugh thro' Life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here falls a Blessing, there alights a Curse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the good Genius or the evil reigns.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It's right it should be so. Should either conquer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The World would cease, and Mankind be undone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By constant Frowns or Flatteries from Fate;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This constant Mixture makes the Potion safe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And keeps the sickly Mind of Man in Health.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is my Son. What has been your Success?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We've fought the Enemy, broke thro' their Ranks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slain many on the Spot, pursu'd the rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Night conceal'd and sav'd them from our Arms.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis bravely done, and shall be duly honour'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the Signs and Marks of public Joy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What means this Gloom I see in every Face?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These smother'd Groans and stifled half-drawn Sighs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Does it offend that I've return'd in Triumph?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I fear to name&mdash;And yet it must be known.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Be not alarm'd, my Son, the Laws of Fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must be obey'd: She will not hear our Dictates.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm not a Stranger to your youthful Passion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fear the Disappointment will confound you.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Has he not sped? Has ill befell my Brother?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, he is wounded but&mdash;Monelia's slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Torax both. Slain by the cowardly English,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who 'scap'd your Brother's wounded threat'ning Arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But are pursued by such as will revenge it.&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Oh wretched, wretched, wretched Chekitan!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I know you're shock'd&mdash;The Scene has shock'd us all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what we could, we've done to wipe the Stain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From us, our Family, our Land and State;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now prepare due Honours for the Dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the solemn Pomp of public Grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shew Respect as if they were our own.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is this my Triumph after Victory?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A solemn, dreadful pompous Shew:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Why have I 'scap'd their Swords and liv'd to see it?<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Monelia dead! aught else I could have borne:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm stupefy'd: I can't believe it true;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shew me the Dead; I will believe my Eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But cannot mourn or drop a Tear till then.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I will conduct you to them&mdash;Follow me&mdash;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is a sad Reception from a Conquest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And puts an awful Gloom upon our Joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear his Grief will overtop his Reason;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Lover weeps with more than common Pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor flows his greatest Sorrow at his Eyes:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His Grief is inward, and his Heart sheds Tears,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in his Soul he feels the pointed Woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When he beholds the lovely Object lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deep-felt Wound admits no sudden Cure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The festering Humour will not be dispers'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It gathers on the Mind, and Time alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">That buries all Things, puts an End to this.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;omnes.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span> <i>The Grove, with the dead bodies; <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span> pointing
+<span class="smcap">Chekitan</span> to them.</i></p>
+
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There lie the Bodies, Prince, a wretched Sight!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathless and pale.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">A wretched Sight indeed;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Going&nbsp;towards&nbsp;them.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Oh, my Monelia; has thy Spirit fled?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Art thou no more? a bloody, breathless Corpse!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Am I return'd full flush'd with Hopes of Joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all the Honours Victory can give,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see thee thus? Is this, is this my Welcome?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is this our Wedding? Wilt thou not return?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, charming Princess, art thou gone for ever?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is this the fatal Period of our Love?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! had I never seen thy Beauty bloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I had not now been griev'd to see it pale:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had I not known such Excellence had liv'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should not now be curs'd to see it dead:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had not my Heart been melted by thy Charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It would not now have bled to see them lost.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, wherefore, wherefore, wherefore do I live:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Monelia is not&mdash;What's the World to me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All dark and gloomy, horrid, waste, and void:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Light of the Creation is put out!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Blessings of the Gods are all withdrawn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing remains but Wretchedness and Woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Monelia's gone; Monelia is no more.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Heavens are veil'd because she don't behold them:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Earth is curs'd, for it hath drunk her Blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Air is Poison, for she breathes no more:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why fell I not by the base Briton's Sword?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why press'd I not upon the fatal Point?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then had I never seen this worse than Death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But dying said, 'tis well&mdash;Monelia lives.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Comfort, my Prince, nor let your Passion swell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To such a Torrent, it o'erwhelms your Reason,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And preys upon the Vitals of your Soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You do but feed the Viper by this View;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Retire, and drive the Image from your Thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Time will soon replace your every Joy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O my Tenesco, had you ever felt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gilded Sweets, or pointed Pains of Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You'd not attempt to sooth a Grief like mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why did you point me to the painful Sight?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why have you shown this Shipwreck of my Hopes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And plac'd me in this beating Storm of Woe?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why was I told of my Monelia's Fate?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why wa'n't the wretched Ruin all conceal'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under some fair Pretence&mdash;That she had fled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was made a Captive, or had chang'd her Love&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why wa'n't I left to guess her wretched End?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or have some slender Hope that she still liv'd?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You've all been cruel; she died to torment me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To raise my Pain, and blot out every Joy.&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I fear'd as much: His Passion makes him wild&mdash;<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">I wish it may not end in perfect Frenzy.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who were the Murderers? Where did they fly?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where was my Brother, not to take Revenge?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Show me their Tracks, I'll trace them round the Globe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll fly like Lightning, ravage the whole Earth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kill every thing I meet, or hear, or see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Depopulate the World of Men and Beasts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">'Tis all too little for that single Death.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pointing&nbsp;to&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Monelia's</span>&nbsp;corpse.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">I'll tear the Earth that dar'd to drink her Blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kill Trees, and Plants, and every springing Flower:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing shall grow, nothing shall be alive,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing shall move; I'll try to stop the Sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And make all dark and barren, dead and sad;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his tall Sphere down to the lowest Centre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There I'll descend, and hide my wretched Self,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And reign sole Monarch in a World of Ruin.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This is deep Madness, it hath seiz'd his Brain.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">But first I'll snatch a parting last Embrace.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>He&nbsp;touches&nbsp;and&nbsp;goes&nbsp;to&nbsp;embrace&nbsp;the&nbsp;corpse.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Thou dear cold Clay! forgive the daring Touch;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is thy Chekitan, thy wounded Lover.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">'Tis; and he hastens to revenge thy Death.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Torax</span>&nbsp;groans&nbsp;and&nbsp;attempts&nbsp;to&nbsp;speak.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Oh, oh, I did not&mdash;Philip&mdash;Philip&mdash;Oh.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>&nbsp;starts.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What&mdash;did I not hear a Groan? and Philip call'd?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">It was, it was, and there is Motion too.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Approaches&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Torax</span>,&nbsp;who&nbsp;groans&nbsp;and&nbsp;speaks&nbsp;again.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Philip&mdash;help. Oh! Oh!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">He is alive&mdash;We'll raise him from the Ground.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;lift&nbsp;him&nbsp;up,&nbsp;and&nbsp;speak&nbsp;to&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Torax, are you alive? or are our Ears deceiv'd?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh. Philip, do not&mdash;do not&mdash;be so cruel.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is bewilder'd, and not yet himself.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Pour this into his Lips&mdash;it will revive him.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>They&nbsp;give&nbsp;him&nbsp;something.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">This is a Joy unhop'd for in Distress.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Torax</span>&nbsp;revives&nbsp;more.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! Philip, Philip!&mdash;Where is Philip gone?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Murderers are pursued&mdash;He will go soon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And now can carry Tidings of your Life.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He carry Tidings! he's the Murderer.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is not murder'd; he was slightly wounded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hastens now to see the King your Father.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He is false, a barbarous, bloody Man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Murderer, a base disguis'd Assassin.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He still is maz'd, and knows not whom he's with<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Yes, you are Chekitan, and that's Monelia.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pointing&nbsp;to&nbsp;the&nbsp;corpse.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">This is Tenesco&mdash;Philip stabb'd my Sister,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And struck at me; here was the stunning Blow.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pointing&nbsp;to&nbsp;his&nbsp;head.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">He took us sleeping in this silent Grove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There by Appointment from himself we waited.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw him draw the bloody Knife from her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, starting, ask'd him, Why, or what he meant?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He answered with the Hatchet on my Skull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And doubtless thought me dead and bound in Silence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am myself, and what I say is Fact.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The English 'twas beset you; Philip ran<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For your Assistance, and himself is wounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He may be wounded, but he wounded me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No Englishman was there, he was alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dare confront him with his Villainy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Depend upon 't, he's treacherous, false, and bloody.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May we believe, or is this all a Dream?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are we awake? Is Torax yet alive?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or is it Juggling, Fascination all?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis most surprising! What to judge I know not.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll lead him hence; perhaps he's still confus'd.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Torax.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I gladly will go hence for some Relief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But shall not change, from what I've now aver'd.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Then this sad Storm of Ruin 's but begun.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Philip must fly, or next it lights on him.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exeunt&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Torax</span>&nbsp;led&nbsp;by&nbsp;him.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And can this be&mdash;Can Philip be so false?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dwells there such Baseness in a Brother's Heart?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So much Dissimulation in the Earth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is there such Perfidy among Mankind?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It shocks my Faith&mdash;But yet it must be so&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, it was he, Monelia, shed thy Blood.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This made him forward to commence our Friend,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with unusual Warmth engage to help us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was for this so cheerful he resign'd<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To me the Honour of Command in War;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The English Troops would never come so near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Wounds were not inflicted by their Arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All, all confirms the Guilt on Philip's Head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You died, Monelia, by my Brother's Hand;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Brother too intrusted with our Love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm stupify'd and senseless at the Thought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Head, my very Heart is petrify'd.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This adds a Mountain to my Weight of Woe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It now is swell'd too high to be lamented;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Complaints, and Sighs, and Tears are thrown away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revenge is all the Remedy that's left;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what Revenge is equal to the Crime?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His Life for her's! An Atom for the Earth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A Single Fly&mdash;a Mite for the Creation:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turn where I will I find myself confounded:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I must seek and study out new Means.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Help me, ye Powers of Vengeance! grant your Aid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye that delight in Blood, and Death, and Pain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Teach me the Arts of Cruelty and Wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till I have Vengeance equal to my Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And my Monelia's Shade is satisfied.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His Grief no Doubt will rise into a Rage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To see his Charmer rolling in her Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I choose to see him not till my Return;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By then the Fierceness of the Flame may cease;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, he'll grow cool, and quite forget his Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When I report her Father's kindled Wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And all the Vengeance he intends to take.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>&nbsp;comes&nbsp;in&nbsp;sight.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">But this is he, I cannot now avoid him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How shall I soothe his Grief&mdash;He looks distracted&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'm such a Stranger grown to Tears and Pity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear he will not think I sympathize.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Chekitan</span>.</i></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Have I then found thee, thou false hearted Traitor?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou Tyger, Viper, Snake, thou worse than Christian;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bloodthirsty Butcher, more than Murderer!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou every Thing but what Men ought to love!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Do you still live to breathe and see the Sun?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And face me with your savage guilty Eye?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I fear'd, alas, you would run mad and rave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why do you blame me that I am not dead?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I risk'd my Life, was wounded for your Sake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did all I could for your Monelia's Safety,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And to revenge you on her Murderers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Grief distracts you, or you'd thank me for 't.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would you still tempt my Rage, and fire my Soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Already bent to spill your treacherous Blood?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You base Dissembler! know you are detected,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Torax still lives, and has discover'd all.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i><span class="smcap">Philip</span>&nbsp;starts&nbsp;and&nbsp;trembles.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Torax alive!&mdash;It cannot&mdash;must not be.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Aside.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well may you shake&mdash;You cannot mend your Blow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He lived to see, what none but you could think of,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bloody Knife drawn from Monelia's Breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had you a thousand Lives, they'd be too few;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had you a Sea of Blood, 't would be too small<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wash away your deep-dy'd Stain of Guilt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now you shall die; and Oh, if there be Powers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That after Death take Vengeance on such Crimes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May they pursue you with their Flames of Wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Till all their Magazines of Pain are spent.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>He&nbsp;attacks&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Philip</span>&nbsp;with&nbsp;his&nbsp;hatchet.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Philip.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I must defend myself [<i>Drawing his hatchet</i>], the Case is desperate.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Fights;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Philip</span>&nbsp;falls.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Fate is too hard; and I'm oblig'd to yield.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas well begun&mdash;but has a wretched End&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet I'm reveng'd&mdash;She cannot live again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You cannot boast to 've shed more Blood than I&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Oh, had I&mdash;had I&mdash;struck but one Blow more!<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Dies.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Chekitan.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What have I done! this is my Brother's Blood!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A guilty Murderer's Blood! He was no Brother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Nature's Laws and Ties are hence dissolv'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is no Kindred, Friendship, Faith, or Love<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Among Mankind&mdash;Monelia's dead&mdash;The World<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is all unhing'd&mdash;There's universal War&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She was the Tie, the Centre of the Whole;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And she remov'd, all is one general Jar.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where next, Monelia, shall I bend my Arm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To heal this Discord, this Disorder still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring the Chaos Universe to Form?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blood still must flow and float the scatter'd Limbs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till thy much injur'd love in Peace subsides.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then every jarring Discord once will cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And a new World from these rude Ruins rise.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pauses.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Here then I point the Edge, from hence shall flow<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Pointing&nbsp;his&nbsp;knife&nbsp;to&nbsp;his&nbsp;heart.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">The raging crimson Flood, this is the Fountain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose swift Day's Stream shall waft me to thy Arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Lest Philip's Ghost should injure thy Repose.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Stabs&nbsp;himself.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">I come, I come&mdash;Monelia, now I come&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Philip&mdash;away&mdash;She's mine in spite of Death.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Dies.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>.</i><br /></p>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! I'm too late, the fatal Work is done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unhappy Princes; this your wretched End;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your Country's Hopes and your fond Father's Joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are you no more? Slain by each other's Hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or what is worse; or by the Air you breath'd?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all is Murder, Death, and Blood about us:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing safe; it is contagious all:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Earth, and Air, and Skies are full of Treason!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Evil Genius rules the Universe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on Mankind rains Tempests of Destruction.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where will the Slaughter of the Species end?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When it begins with Kings and with their Sons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A general Ruin threatens all below.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How will the good King hear the sad Report?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I fear th' Event; but as it can't be hid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll bear it to him in the softest Terms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And summon every Power to soothe his Grief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">And slack the Torrent of his Royal Passion.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center gap3"><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span> <i>Senate-House.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach</span> [<i>solus</i>].</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Torrent rises, and the Tempest blows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where will this rough, rude Storm of Ruin end?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What crimson Floods are yet to drench the Earth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What new-form'd Mischiefs hover in the Air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And point their Stings at this devoted Head?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has Fate exhausted all her Stores of Wrath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or has she other Vengeance in reserve?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What can she more? My Sons, my Name is gone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Hopes all blasted, my Delights all fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing remains but an afflicted King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That might be pitied by Earth's greatest Wretch.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My Friends; my Sons, ignobly, basely slain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are more than murder'd, more than lost by Death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had they died fighting in their Country's Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should have smil'd and gloried in their Fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, boasting that I had such Sons to lose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would have rode in Triumph o'er their Tombs.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thus to die, the Martyrs of their Folly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Involv'd in all the complicated Guilt<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Treason, Murder, Falsehood, and Deceit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unbridled Passion, Cowardice, Revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every Thing that can debase the Man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And render him the just Contempt of all,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fix the foulest Stain of Infamy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond the Power of Time to blot it out;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is too much; and my griev'd Spirit sinks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the Weight of such gigantic Woe.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye that would see a piteous, wretched King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look on a Father griev'd and curs'd like me;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look on a King whose Sons have died like mine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then you'll confess that these are dangerous Names,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And put it in the Power of Fate to curse us;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is on such she shews her highest Spite.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I'm too far&mdash;'Tis not a Time to grieve<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For private Losses, when the Public calls.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>, looking sorrowful.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What are your Tidings?&mdash;I have no more Sons.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But you have Subjects, and regard their Safety.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The treacherous Priest, intrusted with your Councils,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has publish'd all, and added his own Falsehoods;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Chiefs have all revolted from your Cause,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Patch'd up a Peace, and lend their Help no more.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And is this all? we must defend ourselves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Supply the Place of Numbers with our Courage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And learn to conquer with our very Looks:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is a Time that tries the Truth of Valour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He shows his Courage that dares stem the Storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And live in spite of Violence and Fate.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall holy Perfidy and seeming Lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Destroy our Purpose, sink us into Cowards?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May your Hopes prosper! I'll excite the Troops<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">By your Example still to keep the Field.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis coming on. Thus Wave succeeds to Wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the Storm's spent, then all subsides again&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Chiefs revolted:&mdash;My Design betray'd:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May he that trusts a Christian meet the same;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have no Faith, no Honesty, no God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cannot merit Confidence from Men.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were I alone the boist'rous Tempest's Sport,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'd quickly move my shatter'd, trembling Bark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And follow my departed Sons to Rest.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my brave Countrymen, my Friends, my Subjects,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Demand my Care: I'll not desert the Helm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor leave a dang'rous Station in Distress;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, I will live, in spite of Fate I'll live;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was I not Ponteach, was I not a King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such Giant Mischiefs would not gather round me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And since I'm Ponteach, since I am a King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll shew myself Superior to them all;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll rise above this Hurricane of Fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shew my Courage to the Gods themselves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>, surprised and pausing.</i></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am prepar'd, be not afraid to tell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You cannot speak what Ponteach dare not hear.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenesco.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our bravest Troops are slain, the rest pursu'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All is Disorder, Tumult, and Rebellion.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those that remain insist on speedy Flight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You must attend them, or be left alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unto the Fury of a conquering Foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor will they long expect your Royal Pleasure.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p class="center gap2"><span class="smcap">Ponteach.</span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Will they desert their King in such an Hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Pity might induce them to protect him?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kings like the Gods are valued and ador'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Men expect their Bounties in Return,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Place them in Want, destroy the giving Power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All Sacrifices and Regards will cease.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Go, tell my Friends that I'll attend their Call.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Rising.&nbsp;Exit&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Tenesco</span>.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">I will not fear&mdash;but must obey my Stars:<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Looking&nbsp;round.</i><br /></div>
+<span class="i0">Ye fertile Fields and glad'ning Streams, adieu;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye Fountains that have quench'd my scorching Thirst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye Shades that hid the Sun-beams from my Head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye Groves and Hills that yielded me the Chace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye flow'ry Meads, and Banks, and bending Trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And thou proud Earth, made drunk with Royal Blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am no more your Owner and your King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But witness for me to your new base Lords,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That my unconquer'd Mind defies them still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though I fly, 'tis on the Wings of Hope.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yes, I will hence where there's no British Foe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wait a Respite from this Storm of Woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beget more Sons, fresh Troops collect and arm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And other Schemes of future Greatness form;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Britons may boast, the Gods may have their Will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0 lfloat">Ponteach I am, and shall be Ponteach still.<br /></span>
+<div class="stagedir">&nbsp;&nbsp;[<i>Exit.</i><br /></div>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Finis.</i></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ponteach, by Robert Rogers
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ponteach
+       The Savages of America
+
+Author: Robert Rogers
+
+Editor: Montrose J. Moses
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2009 [EBook #29223]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PONTEACH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Starner, Brownfox and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES
+
+This e-book contains the text of _Ponteach_, extracted from Representative
+Plays by American Dramatists: Vol 1, 1765-1819. Comments and background
+to all the plays and the other plays are available at Project Gutenberg.
+
+Spelling as in the original has been preserved.
+
+
+
+
+PONTEACH
+
+
+_By_ ROBERT ROGERS
+
+[Illustration: MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS]
+
+
+
+
+MAJOR ROBERT ROGERS
+(1727-1795)
+
+
+Robert Rogers, a soldier of fortune, is the _Davy Crockett_ of
+Colonial times. Born at Dumbarton, New Hampshire, on November 17th
+(some authorities say 1730, another 1731, while the _Dictionary of
+National Biography_ says 1727), he was the son of James Rogers, a
+farmer living in a frontier cabin at Methuen, in upper Massachusetts.
+
+Robert's boyhood was spent in an atmosphere characteristic of pioneer
+life. He had scarcely passed his fifteenth year (Nevins claims in
+1746), when he helped withstand an attack of Indians near his home,
+and this may be considered his first active experience with the Red
+Man. From this time on, the history of the career of Robert Rogers is
+the history of the efforts of the Colonists against the Indians as far
+west as Detroit, and as far south as South Carolina. The necessity
+which confronted all of the Colonists made of young Rogers one of the
+most expert hunters of the period, and in this connection he was
+associated with the famous John Stark, of Green Mountain Boys
+reputation. In the latter's Memoir, written by Caleb Stark, we have as
+graphic a pen-picture of Rogers, the hunter, at twenty-two, as we have
+actual likenesses of Rogers in the pictures of the time.[1]
+
+Evidently Rogers flourished financially at this period, for we find
+him buying land in Massachusetts in 1753. His activity as a soldier in
+the French and Indian War put him in command of a company, known as
+"Rogers' Rangers," and he participated in the Siege of Detroit against
+Pontiac and the French. This experience of his must have fired Rogers
+with the desire, after careful consideration of the condition of the
+Indian, to put his special plea for the cause of the Red Man in some
+permanent literary form, for "Ponteach" was published in 1766, after
+Rogers had left America, had gone to London, and thence had taken
+vessel for Algiers, where he fought under Dey.
+
+By 1761, Rogers had so far advanced in worldly standing that he could
+afford to turn his attention to family affairs. We find him visiting
+Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where Elizabeth, daughter of the Reverend
+Arthur Browne, lived. The two were married on June 30th of that year;
+but evidently there was about Robert Rogers something his
+father-in-law did not quite relish. For, in 1763, a dispute arose
+between the two, because of Rogers' increasing dissipation. That they
+did not reach, however, any immediate open rupture, may have been due
+very largely to the fact that Rogers was becoming quite a land-owner
+in New York and New Hampshire. It was not until March 4, 1778, after
+Rogers had gone through many and varied experiences, not the least of
+which was serving a term in the Debtors' Prison in England, that his
+wife was granted, by the New Hampshire Legislature, a decree of
+divorce. She thereupon married Captain John Poach.
+
+Naturally, most of the interest attached to Rogers is historical, not
+literary. His career in the French and Indian War, outlined by him in
+his "Journal of the French and Indian War," which was published in
+London in 1765; his activity in the Cherokee War in South Carolina;[2]
+his association with William Bird, when he had an opportunity of
+studying the methods of Indian guides; his political ambitions when he
+returned to England in 1765--all of these are matters for the
+historian, and have received adequate consideration by Francis Parkman
+and other writers. During these activities, Rogers was not idle with
+his pen. He kept his Journals, and they clearly reveal how much of a
+ranger he was. After the fashion of the times, when he returned to
+England, anxious to let his friends know of the conditions in America,
+he not only published his Journals (1769), but also a concise account
+of North America (1770). But there must have been something about
+Rogers as a soldier of fortune that was not as straight or as honest
+as _Davy Crockett_. We find him, for example, entrusted with the post
+of Governor of Mackinac, and conducting affairs so illy that he was
+tried for treason. He may have advanced as a soldier through the
+successive ranks to Major, but it would seem that the higher up he
+advanced in position the more unscrupulous he became.
+
+After serving his term in the Debtors' Prison, which began on June 14,
+1773, he returned to America, at the beginning of the Revolution.
+Among his Colonial friends, he not only counted John Stark, the
+ranger, but Israel Putnam as well, both of them ardent patriots and
+upholders of the American cause. It would seem, in 1775, that Rogers,
+to all outward appearance, was himself in sympathy with America. He
+professed being the staunch lover of those principles which America
+was upholding. But General Washington soon had cause to doubt his
+loyalty, and he was watched. With the result that his arrest was
+ordered, and thereupon he confessed his adherence to the Crown. Rogers
+then joined the forces of General Howe, bringing with him an
+invaluable knowledge of the land in New York and New Jersey, and
+adjacent territory. He was put in command of a company, known as the
+"Queen's Rangers," and throughout the Revolution fought bravely on the
+opposing side. After returning to England, he battled for further
+recognition, but never received the full honours he courted. He died
+on May 18, 1795, in South London.
+
+"Ponteach" was probably never given in Rogers's time. There is no
+record of its even having been considered by any of the theatrical
+companies. It was published in 1766, with a London imprint on the
+title-page.[3] There is some slight probability that it was given an
+amateur production at Lake George by the summer residents
+there--certainly an appropriate spot to present a play by Rogers,
+inasmuch as the Ranger was known in that neighbourhood, and there is
+now familiar to all visitors a place called "Rogers's Slide," marking
+one of his escapades with the Indians.
+
+In the present collection, the editor has followed the text of the
+1766 edition, fully realizing the consistent changes made by Mr. Allan
+Nevins in his edition of the play which, with an Introduction,
+Biography, and invaluable historical notes, was published in 1914 by
+the Caxton Club of Chicago.[4]
+
+This piece is one which is not only interesting as representative of
+the early type of Indian drama in America, but it is also interesting
+as reflective of the attitude of a dramatist with a problem to
+propound. "Ponteach" is our first American problem play. Parkman
+claims that at least part of it was written by Rogers, thus throwing
+doubt on his entire claim to authorship. There is not only a dignity
+displayed in the drawing of the main character of the Indian, but
+there is a very naive attempt at subtle humour in the characters of
+the Englishmen. There is no distinct excellence in depicting Indian
+character as such, after the romantic manner of Cooper, although
+Rogers, with his English tradition, has been able to lend to his
+dialogue a certain dignity of diction which is striking, and which
+gives the play a decided literary value. Taken, however, as an
+historical document--and Mr. Nevins does this--one can trace in
+"Ponteach" the whole range of Rogers's experience as an Indian
+fighter. There are constant allusions in the text to matters which Mr.
+Nevins has found necessary to explain in copious footnotes, and
+therefore to the student I would recommend this single edition of the
+play. "Ponteach" is published here, not from a scholarly standpoint,
+but simply as an example of early Indian drama.
+
+Of these Indian dramas, there are many examples in the early history
+of American playwriting. Laurence Hutton has an entertaining chapter
+on the subject in his "Curiosities of the American Stage," in which he
+enumerates such titles as "Oroloosa," "Oroonoka," "Miautoumah," to say
+nothing of "Hiawatha." "Metamora; or, The Last of the Wampanoags" was
+brought to success through the powerful acting of Edwin Forrest,
+December 15, 1829. William Wheatley, of the Park Theatre, was likewise
+famed for his Indian impersonations. Among other more or less
+well-known plays of the species, enumerated by Wegelin, are:
+
+F. DEFFENBACH. "Onliata; or, The Indian Heroine." Philadelphia. 1821.
+
+JOSEPH DODDRIDGE. "Logan: The Last of the Race of Skikellemus, Chief
+of the Cayuga Nation." Buffalo Creek, Brooke Co., Va. 1823.
+
+G. W. P. CUSTIS. "The Indian Prophecy." A National Drama in Two Acts,
+founded on a most interesting and romantic occurrence in the life of
+General Washington. Georgetown. 1828.
+
+NATHANIEL DEERING. "Carrabasset; or, The Last of the Norridgewocks." A
+Tragedy in Five Acts. Portland. 1830.
+
+W. H. C. HOSMER. "The Fall of Tecumseh." Avon. 1830.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] These pictures were struck off on October 1, 1776. See Smith's
+"British Mezzotint Portraits."
+
+[2] See the South Carolina _Gazette_ files for 1760, 1761.
+
+[3] Ponteach:/or the/Savages of America,/A/Tragedy/[Major Robert
+Rogers.] London:/Printed for the Author; and Sold by J.
+Millan,/opposite the Admiralty, Whitehall./M.DCC.LXVI./[Price 2s. 6d.]
+
+[4] Ponteach/or the/Savages of America/A Tragedy/By Robert Rogers/With
+an Introduction/and a Biography of the Author/By Allan Nevins/Chicago/
+The Caxton Club/1914/
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: PONTEACH:
+
+OR THE
+
+Savages of America.
+
+
+A
+
+TRAGEDY.
+
+
+LONDON: Printed for the Author; and Sold by J. MILLAN, opposite the
+_Admiralty, Whitehall_.
+
+M.DCC.LXVI.
+
+[Price 2s. 6d.]
+
+
+FAC-SIMILE TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION]
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+
+PONTEACH,               Indian Emperor on the Great Lakes.
+
+PHILIP _and_ CHEKITAN,  Sons of Ponteach.
+
+TENESCO,                His chief Counsellor and Generalissimo.
+
+ASTINACO,        }
+THE BEAR,        }      Indian Kings who join with Ponteach.
+THE WOLF,        }
+
+TORAX _and_      }      Son and Daughter to Hendrick, Emperor
+MONELIA          }        of the Mohawks.
+
+INDIAN                  Conjurer.
+
+FRENCH                  Priest.
+
+SHARP,           }
+GRIPE,           }      Three English Governors.
+CATCHUM,         }
+
+Colonel COCKUM,  }      Commanders at a Garrison in Ponteach's
+Captain FRISK,   }      Country.
+
+M'DOLE _and_     }      Two Indian Traders.
+MURPHEY,         }
+
+HONNYMAN _and_   }      Two English Hunters.
+ORSBOURN,        }
+
+Mrs.  HONNYMAN,         Wife to Honnyman, the Hunter.
+
+              Warriors, Messengers, &c.
+
+
+
+
+PONTEACH: OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. _An Indian Trading House._
+
+_Enter M'DOLE and MURPHEY, two Indian Traders, and their Servants._
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune
+Among the Savages in this wild Desart?
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living,
+Which 'faith I find it hard enough to do;
+Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,
+That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade?
+Know you the Principles by which it prospers,
+And how to make it lucrative and safe?
+If not, you're like a Ship without a Rudder,
+That drives at random, and must surely sink.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+I'm unacquainted with your Indian Commerce,
+And gladly would I learn the Arts from you,
+Who're old, and practis'd in them many Years.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders,
+A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,
+Who might as well turn Ministers of State.
+But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you
+Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,
+Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich,
+Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.
+What have you got to part with to the Indians?
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+I've Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells,
+And such-like Trifles as they're wont to prize.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+'Tis very well: your Articles are good:
+But now the Thing's to make a Profit from them,
+Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither.
+Our fundamental Maxim is this,
+That it's no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+How! Not a Sin to cheat an Indian, say you?
+Are they not Men? hav'n't they a Right to Justice
+As well as we, though savage in their Manners?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Ah! If you boggle here, I say no more;
+This is the very Quintessence of Trade,
+And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it;
+None who neglect it ever did grow rich,
+Or ever will, or can by Indian Commerce.
+By this old Ogden built his stately House,
+Purchas'd Estates, and grew a little King.
+He, like an honest Man, bought all by Weight,
+And made the ign'rant Savages believe
+That his Right Foot exactly weigh'd a Pound:
+By this for many Years he bought their Furs,
+And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+Well, I'll not stick at what is necessary:
+But his Device is now grown old and stale,
+Nor could I manage such a barefac'd Fraud.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+A thousand Opportunities present
+To take Advantage of their Ignorance;
+But the great Engine I employ is Rum,
+More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs.
+This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand,
+Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant;
+Which makes them think me generous and just,
+And gives full Scope to practise all my Art.
+I then begin my Trade with water'd Rum,
+The cooling Draught well suits their scorching Throats.
+Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return:
+My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd,
+That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One;
+Which they, poor silly Souls! ignorant of Weights
+And Rules of Balancing, do not perceive.
+But here they come; you'll see how I proceed.
+Jack, is the Rum prepar'd as I commanded?
+
+JACK.
+
+Yes, sir, all's ready when you please to call.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Bring here the Scales and Weights immediately.
+You see the Trick is easy and conceal'd.
+                                    [_Shewing how to slip the scales._
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+By Jupiter, it's artfully contriv'd;
+And was I King, I swear I'd knight th' Inventor.
+--Tom, mind the Part that you will have to act.
+
+TOM.
+
+Ah, never fear, I'll do as well as Jack.
+But then, you know, an honest Servant's Pains
+Deserve Reward.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+O! I'll take care of that.
+
+_Enter a number of INDIANS with packs of fur._
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+So, what you trade with Indians here to-day?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Yes, if my Goods will suit, and we agree.
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+'Tis Rum we want, we're tired, hot, and thirsty.
+
+3RD INDIAN.
+
+You, Mr. Englishman, have you got Rum?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Jack, bring a Bottle, pour them each a Gill.
+You know which Cask contains the Rum. The Rum?
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+It's good strong Rum, I feel it very soon.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Give me a Glass. Here's Honesty in Trade;
+We English always drink before we deal.
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+Good Way enough; it makes one sharp and cunning.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Hand round another Gill. You're very welcome.
+
+3RD INDIAN.
+
+Some say you Englishmen are sometimes Rogues;
+You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+No, English good. The Frenchmen give no Rum.
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+I think it's best to trade with Englishmen.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+What is your Price for Beaver Skins per Pound?
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+How much you ask per Quart for this strong Rum?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Five Pounds of Beaver for One Quart of Rum.
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+Five Pounds? Too much. Which is 't you call Five Pound?
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+This little Weight. I cannot give you more.
+
+1ST INDIAN.
+
+Well, take 'em; weigh 'em. Don't you cheat us now.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+No: He that cheats an Indian should be hang'd.  [_Weighing the packs._
+There's Thirty Pounds precisely of the Whole;
+Five times Six is Thirty. Six Quarts of Rum.
+Jack, measure it to them: you know the Cask.
+This Rum is sold. You draw it off the best.
+                               [_Exeunt INDIANS to receive their rum._
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+By Jove, you've gain'd more in a single Hour
+Than ever I have done in Half a Year;
+Curse on my Honesty! I might have been
+A little King, and liv'd without Concern,
+Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Ay, there's the Way, my honest Friend, to live.
+                                             [_Clapping his shoulder._
+There's Ninety Weight of Sterling Beaver for you,
+Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;
+And, would my Conscience let me to the Thing,
+I might enhance my Price, and lessen theirs,
+And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.
+
+MURPHEY.
+
+I can't but thank you for your kind Instructions,
+As from them I expect to reap Advantage.
+But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,
+They are malicious, and would have Revenge.
+
+M'DOLE.
+
+Can't you avoid them? Let their Vengeance light
+On others' Heads, no matter whose, if you
+Are but secure, and have the Cain in Hand:
+For they're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,
+Whether on him that cheated, or his Friend,
+Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,
+Perhaps an honest Peasant, who ne'er dreamt
+Of Fraud or Villainy in all his life;
+Such let them murder, if they will a Score,
+The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,
+Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Desart._
+
+_Enter ORSBOURN and HONNYMAN, two English Hunters._
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Long have we toil'd, and rang'd the Woods in vain,
+No Game, nor Track, nor Sign of any Kind
+Is to be seen; I swear I am discourag'd
+And weary'd out with this long fruitless Hunt.
+No Life on Earth besides is half so hard,
+So full of Disappointments, as a Hunter's:
+Each Morn he wakes he views the destin'd Prey,
+And counts the Profits of th' ensuing Day;
+Each Ev'ning at his curs'd ill Fortune pines,
+And till next Day his Hope of Gain resigns.
+By Jove, I'll from these Desarts hasten home,
+And swear that never more I'll touch a Gun.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+These hateful Indians kidnap all the Game.
+Curse their black Heads! they fright the Deer and Bear,
+And ev'ry Animal that haunts the Wood,
+Or by their Witchcraft conjure them away.
+No Englishman can get a single Shot,
+While they go loaded home with Skins and Furs.
+'Twere to be wish'd not one of them survived,
+Thus to infest the World, and plague Mankind.
+Curs'd Heathen Infidels! mere savage Beasts!
+They don't deserve to breathe in Christian Air,
+And should be hunted down like other Brutes.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+I only wish the Laws permitted us
+To hunt the savage Herd where e'er they're found;
+I'd never leave the Trade of Hunting then,
+While one remain'd to tread and range the Wood.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Curse on the Law, I say, that makes it Death
+To kill an Indian, more than to kill a Snake.
+What if 'tis Peace? these Dogs deserve no Mercy;
+Cursed revengeful, cruel, faithless Devils!
+They kill'd my Father and my eldest Brother.
+Since which I hate their very Looks and Name.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+And I, since they betray'd and kill'd my Uncle;
+Hell seize their cruel, unrelenting Souls!
+Tho' these are not the same, 'twould ease my Heart
+To cleave their painted Heads, and spill their Blood.
+I abhor, detest, and hate them all,
+And now cou'd eat an Indian's Heart with Pleasure.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I'd join you, and soop his savage Brains for Sauce;
+I lose all Patience when I think of them,
+And, if you will, we'll quickly have Amends
+For our long Travel and successless Hunt,
+And the sweet Pleasure of Revenge to boot.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+What will you do? Present, and pop one down?
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Yes, faith, the first we meet well fraught with Furs;
+Or if there's Two, and we can make sure Work,
+By Jove, we'll ease the Rascals of their Packs,
+And send them empty home to their own Country.
+But then observe, that what we do is secret,
+Or the Hangman will come in for Snacks.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Trust me for that; I'll join with all my Heart;
+Nor with a nicer Aim, or steadier Hand,
+Would shoot a Tyger than I would an Indian.
+There is a Couple stalking now this Way
+With lusty Packs; Heav'n favour our Design.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Silence; conceal yourself, and mind your Eye.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Are you well charg'd?
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I am. Take you the nearest,
+And mind to fire exactly when I do.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+A charming Chance!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Hush, let them still come nearer.
+                          [_They shoot, and run to rifle the INDIANS._
+They're down, old Boy, a Brace of noble Bucks!
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Well tallow'd, faith, and noble Hides upon 'em.   [_Taking up a pack._
+We might have hunted all the Season thro'
+For Half this Game, and thought ourselves well paid.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+By Jove, we might, and been at great Expence
+For Lead and Powder, here's a single Shot.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+I swear I've got as much as I can carry.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+And faith I'm not behind; this Pack is heavy.
+But stop; we must conceal the tawny Dogs,
+Or their blood-thirsty Countrymen will find them,
+And then we're bit. There'll be the Devil to pay,
+They'll murder us, and cheat the Hangman too.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Right. We'll prevent all Mischief of this Kind.
+Where shall we hide their savage Carcases?
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+There they will lie conceal'd and snug enough--    [_They cover them._
+But stay--perhaps ere long there'll be a War,
+And then their Scalps will sell for ready Cash
+Two Hundred Crowns at least, and that's worth saving.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Well! that is true, no sooner said than done--   [_Drawing his knife._
+I'll strip this Fellow's painted greasy Skull.
+                                              [_Strips off the scalp._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+A damn'd tough Hide, or my Knife's devilish dull--
+                                             [_Takes the other scalp._
+Now let them sleep to-night without their Caps,
+And pleasant Dreams attend their long Repose.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Their Guns and Hatchets now are lawful Prize,
+For they'll not need them on their present Journey.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+The Devil hates Arms, and dreads the Smell of Powder;
+He'll not allow such Instruments about him,
+They're free from training now, they're in his Clutches.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+But, Honnyman, d'ye think this is not Murder?
+I vow I'm shock'd a little to see them scalp'd,
+And fear their Ghosts will haunt us in the Dark.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+It's no more Murder than to crack a Louse,
+That is, if you've the Wit to keep it private.
+And as to Haunting, Indians have no Ghosts,
+But as they live like Beasts, like Beasts they die.
+I've kill'd a Dozen in this self-same Way,
+And never yet was troubled with their Spirits.
+
+ORSBOURN.
+
+Then I'm content; my Scruples are remov'd.
+And what I've done, my Conscience justifies.
+But we must have these Guns and Hatchets alter'd,
+Or they'll detect th' Affair, and hang us both.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+That's quickly done--Let us with Speed return,
+And think no more of being hang'd or haunted;
+But turn our Fur to Gold, our Gold to Wine,
+Thus gaily spend what we've so slily won,
+And bless the first Inventor of a Gun.                      [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III. _An English Fort._
+
+_Enter Colonel COCKUM and Captain FRISK._
+
+COCKUM.
+
+What shall we do with these damn'd bawling Indians?
+They're swarming every Day with their Complaints
+Of Wrongs and Injuries, and God knows what--
+I wish the Devil would take them to himself.
+
+FRISK.
+
+Your Honour's right to wish the Devil his Due.
+I'd send the noisy Hellhounds packing hence,
+Nor spend a Moment in debating with them.
+The more you give Attention to their Murmurs,
+The more they'll plague and haunt you every Day,
+Besides, their old King Ponteach grows damn'd saucy,
+Talks of his Power, and threatens what he'll do.
+Perdition to their faithless sooty Souls,
+I'd let 'em know at once to keep their Distance.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Captain, You're right; their Insolence is such
+As beats my Patience; cursed Miscreants!
+They are encroaching; fain would be familiar:
+I'll send their painted Heads to Hell with Thunder!
+I swear I'll blow 'em hence with Cannon Ball,
+And give the Devil an Hundred for his Supper.
+
+FRISK.
+
+They're coming here; you see they scent your Track,
+And while you'll listen, they will ne'er be silent,
+But every Day improve in Insolence.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+I'll soon dispatch and storm them from my Presence.
+
+_Enter PONTEACH, and other Indian CHIEFS._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Well, Mr. Colonel Cockum, what d' they call you?
+You give no Answer yet to my Complaint;
+Your Men give my Men always too much Rum,
+Then trade and cheat 'em. What! d' ye think this right?
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Tush! Silence! hold your noisy cursed Nonsense;
+I've heard enough of it; what is it to me?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What! you a Colonel, and not command your Men?
+Let ev'ry one be a Rogue that has a Mind to 't.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Why, curse your Men, I suppose they wanted Rum;
+They'll rarely be content, I know, without it.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What then? If Indians are such Fools, I think
+White Men like you should stop and teach them better.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+I'm not a Pedagogue to your curs'd Indians.                  [_Aside._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Colonel, I hope that you'll consider this.
+
+FRISK.
+
+Why, don't you see the Colonel will not hear you?
+You'd better go and watch your Men yourself,
+Nor plague us with your cursed endless Noise;
+We've something else to do of more Importance.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Hah! Captain Frisk, what! you a great man too?
+My Bus'ness here is only with your Colonel;
+And I'll be heard, or know the Reason why.
+
+1ST CHIEF.
+
+I thought the English had been better Men.
+
+2ND CHIEF.
+
+Frenchmen would always hear an Indian speak,
+And answer fair, and make good Promises.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+You may be d----d, and all your Frenchmen too.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Be d----d! what's that? I do not understand.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+The Devil teach you; he'll do it without a Fee.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Devil teach! I think you one great Fool.
+Did your King tell you thus to treat the Indians?
+Had he been such a Dunce he ne'er had conquer'd,
+And made the running French for Quarter cry.
+I always mind that such proud Fools are Cowards,
+And never do aught that is great or good.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+Forbear your Impudence, you curs'd old Thief;
+This Moment leave my Fort, and to your Country.
+Let me hear no more of your hellish Clamour,
+Or to D----n I will blow you all,
+And feast the Devil with one hearty Meal.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+So ho! Know you whose Country you are in?
+Think you, because you have subdu'd the French,
+That Indians too are now become your Slaves?
+This Country's mine, and here I reign as King;
+I value not your Threats, nor Forts, nor Guns;
+I have got Warriors, Courage, Strength, and Skill.
+Colonel, take care; the Wound is very deep,
+Consider well, for it is hard to cure.              [_Exeunt INDIANS._
+
+FRISK.
+
+Vile Infidels! observe their Insolence;
+Old Ponteach puts on a mighty Air.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+They'll always be a Torment till destroy'd,
+And sent all headlong to the Devil's Kitchen.
+This curs'd old Thief, no doubt, will give us Trouble,
+Provok'd and madded at his cool Reception.
+
+FRISK.
+
+Oh! Colonel, they are never worth our minding,
+What can they do against our Bombs and Cannon?
+True, they may skulk, and kill and scalp a few,
+But, Heav'n be thank'd, we're safe within these Walls:
+Besides, I think the Governors are coming,
+To make them Presents, and establish Peace.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+That may perhaps appease their bloody Minds,
+And keep them quiet for some little Term.
+God send the Day that puts them all to sleep,
+Come, will you crack a Bottle at my Tent?
+
+FRISK.
+
+With all my Heart, and drink D----n to them.
+
+COCKUM.
+
+I can in nothing more sincerely join.                       [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV. _An Apartment in the Fort._
+
+_Enter Governors SHARP, GRIPE, and CATCHUM._
+
+SHARP.
+
+Here are we met to represent our King,
+And by his royal Bounties to conciliate
+These Indians' Minds to Friendship, Peace, and Love.
+But he that would an honest Living get
+In Times so hard and difficult as these,
+Must mind that good old Rule, Take care of One.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Ay, Christian Charity begins at home;
+I think it's in the Bible, I know I've read it.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I join with Paul, that he's an Infidel
+Who does not for himself and Friends provide.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Yes, Paul in fact was no bad Politician,
+And understood himself as well as most.
+All good and wise Men certainly take care
+To help themselves and Families the first;
+Thus dictates Nature, Instinct, and Religion,
+Whose easy Precepts ought to be obey'd.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+But how does this affect our present Purpose?
+We've heard the Doctrine; what's the Application?
+
+SHARP.
+
+We are intrusted with these Indian Presents.
+A Thousand Pound was granted by the King,
+To satisfy them of his Royal Goodness,
+His constant Disposition to their Welfare,
+And reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.
+Five hundred's gone; you know our late Division,
+Our great Expence, _Et cetera_, no Matter:
+The other Half was laid out for these Goods,
+To be distributed as we think proper;
+And whether Half (I only put the Question)
+Of these said Goods, won't answer every End,
+And bring about as long a lasting Peace
+As tho' the Whole were lavishly bestow'd?
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I'm clear upon 't they will, if we affirm
+That Half's the Whole was sent them by the King.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+There is no doubt but that One Third wou'd answer,
+For they, poor Souls! are ign'rant of the Worth
+Of single Things, nor know they how to add
+Or calculate, and cast the whole Amount.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Why, Want of Learning is a great Misfortune.
+How thankful should we be that we have Schools,
+And better taught and bred than these poor Heathen.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+Yes, only these Two simple easy Rules,
+Addition and Subtraction, are great Helps,
+And much contribute to our happiness.
+
+SHARP.
+
+'Tis these I mean to put in Practice now;
+Subtraction from these Royal Presents makes
+Addition to our Gains without a Fraction.
+But let us overhaul and take the best,
+Things may be given that won't do to sell.
+                                       [_They overhaul the goods, &c._
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+Lay these aside; they'll fetch a noble Price.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+And these are very saleable, I think.
+
+SHARP.
+
+The Indians will be very fond of these.
+Is there the Half, think you?
+
+GRIPE.
+
+It's thereabouts.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+This bag of Wampum may be added yet.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Here, Lads, convey these Goods to our Apartment.
+
+SERVANT.
+
+The Indians, sir, are waiting at the Gate.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Conduct them in when you've disposed of these.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+This should have been new-drawn before they enter'd.
+                       [_Pulling out an inventory of the whole goods._
+
+GRIPE.
+
+What matters that? They cannot read, you know,
+And you can read to them in gen'ral Terms.
+
+_Enter PONTEACH, with several of his Chieftains._
+
+SHARP.
+
+Welcome, my Brothers, we are glad to meet you,
+And hope that you will not repent our coming.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+We're glad to see our Brothers here the English.
+If honourable Peace be your Desire,
+We'd always have the Hatchet buried deep,
+While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Lakes endure,
+And Trees and Herbs within our Country grow.
+But then you must not cheat and wrong the Indians,
+Or treat us with Reproach, Contempt, and Scorn;
+Else we will raise the Hatchet to the Sky,
+And let it never touch the Earth again,
+Sharpen its Edge, and keep it bright as Silver,
+Or stain it red with Murder and with Blood.
+Mind what I say, I do not tell you Lies.
+
+SHARP.
+
+We hope you have no Reason to complain
+That Englishmen conduct to you amiss;
+We're griev'd if they have given you Offence,
+And fain would heal the Wound while it is fresh,
+Lest it should spread, grow painful, and severe.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Your Men make Indians drunk, and then they cheat 'em.
+Your Officers, your Colonels, and your Captains
+Are proud, morose, ill-natur'd, churlish Men,
+Treat us with Disrespect, Contempt, and Scorn.
+I tell you plainly this will never do,
+We never thus were treated by the French,
+Them we thought bad enough, but think you worse.
+
+SHARP.
+
+There's good and bad, you know, in every Nation;
+There's some good Indians, some are the reverse,
+Whom you can't govern, and restrain from ill;
+So there's some Englishmen that will be bad.
+You must not mind the Conduct of a few,
+Nor judge the rest by what you see of them.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+If you've some good, why don't you send them here?
+These every one are Rogues, and Knaves, and Fools,
+And think no more of Indians than of Dogs.
+Your King had better send his good Men hither,
+And keep his bad ones in some other Country;
+Then you would find that Indians would do well,
+Be peaceable, and honest in their Trade;
+We'd love you, treat you, as our Friends and Brothers,
+And Raise the Hatchet only in your Cause.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Our King is very anxious for your Welfare,
+And greatly wishes for your Love and Friendship;
+He would not have the Hatchet ever raised,
+But buried deep, stamp'd down and cover'd o'er,
+As with a Mountain that can never move:
+For this he sent us to your distant Country,
+Bid us deliver you these friendly Belts,
+                                       [_Holding out belts of wampum._
+All cover'd over with his Love and Kindness.
+He like a Father loves you as his Children;
+And like a Brother wishes you all Good;
+We'll let him know the Wounds that you complain of,
+And he'll be speedy to apply the Cure,
+And clear the Path to Friendship, Peace, and Trade.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Your King, I hear 's a good and upright Man,
+True to his word, and friendly in his Heart;
+Not proud and insolent, morose and sour,
+Like these his petty Officers and Servants:
+I want to see your King, and let him know
+What must be done to keep the Hatchet dull,
+And how the Path of Friendship, Peace, and Trade
+May be kept clean and solid as a Rock.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Our King is distant over the great Lake,
+But we can quickly send him your Requests;
+To which he'll listen with attentive Ear,
+And act as tho' you told him with your Tongue.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Let him know then his People here are Rogues,
+And cheat and wrong and use the Indians ill.
+Tell him to send good Officers, and call
+These proud ill-natur'd Fellows from my Country,
+And keep his Hunters from my hunting Ground.
+He must do this, and do it quickly too,
+Or he will find the Path between us bloody.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Of this we will acquaint our gracious King,
+And hope you and your Chiefs will now confirm
+A solid Peace as if our King was present;
+We're his Ambassadors, and represent him,
+And bring these Tokens of his Royal Friendship
+To you, your Captains, Chiefs, and valiant Men.
+Read, Mr. Catchum, you've the Inventory.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+The British King, of his great Bounty, sends
+To Ponteach, King upon the Lakes, and his Chiefs,
+Two hundred, No [_Aside_] a Number of fine Blankets,
+Six hundred [_Aside_] Yes, and several Dozen Hatchets,
+Twenty thousand [_Aside_] and a Bag of Wampum,
+A Parcel too of Pans, and Knives, and Kettles.
+
+SHARP.
+
+This rich and royal Bounty you'll accept,
+And as you please distribute to your Chiefs,
+And let them know they come from England's King,
+As Tokens to them of his Love and Favour.
+We've taken this long Journey at great Charge,
+To see and hold with you this friendly Talk;
+We hope your Minds are all disposed to Peace,
+And that you like our Sovereign's Bounty well.
+
+1ST CHIEF.
+
+We think it very small, we heard of more.
+Most of our Chiefs and Warriors are not here,
+They all expect to share a Part with us.
+
+2ND CHIEF.
+
+These won't reach round to more than half our Tribes,
+Few of our Chiefs will have a single Token
+Of your King's Bounty, that you speak so much of.
+
+3RD CHIEF.
+
+And those who haven't will be dissatisfied,
+Think themselves slighted, think your King is stingy,
+Or else that you his Governors are Rogues,
+And keep your Master's Bounty for yourselves.
+
+4TH CHIEF.
+
+We hear such Tricks are sometimes play'd with Indians.
+King Astenaco, the great Southern Chief,
+Who's been in England, and has seen your King,
+Told me that he was generous, kind, and true,
+But that his Officers were Rogues and Knaves,
+And cheated Indians out of what he gave.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+The Devil's in 't, I fear that we're detected.               [_Aside._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Indians a'n't Fools, if White Men think us so;
+We see, we hear, we think as well as you;
+We know there 're Lies, and Mischiefs in the World;
+We don't know whom to trust, nor when to fear;
+Men are uncertain, changing as the Wind,
+Inconstant as the Waters of the Lakes,
+Some smooth and fair, and pleasant as the Sun,
+Some rough and boist'rous, like the Winter Storm;
+Some are Insidious as the subtle Snake,
+Some innocent, and harmless as the Dove;
+Some like the Tyger raging, cruel, fierce,
+Some like the Lamb, humble, submissive, mild,
+And scarcely one is every Day the same;
+But I call no Man bad, till such he's found,
+Then I condemn and cast him from my Sight;
+And no more trust him as a Friend and Brother.
+I hope to find you honest Men and true.
+
+SHARP.
+
+Indeed you may depend upon our Honours,
+We're faithful Servants of the best of Kings;
+We scorn an Imposition on your Ignorance,
+Abhor the Arts of Falsehood and Deceit.
+These are the Presents our great Monarch sent,
+He's of a bounteous, noble, princely Mind
+And had he known the Numbers of your Chiefs,
+Each would have largely shar'd his Royal Goodness;
+But these are rich and worthy your Acceptance,
+Few Kings on Earth can such as these bestow,
+For Goodness, Beauty, Excellence, and Worth.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Presents from your Sovereign I accept,
+His friendly Belts to us shall be preserved,
+And in Return convey you those to him.              [_Belts and furs._
+Which let him know our Mind, and what we wish,
+That we dislike his crusty Officers,
+And wish the Path of Peace was made more plain,
+The Calumet I do not choose to smoke,
+Till I see further, and my other Chiefs
+Have been consulted. Tell your King from me,
+That first or last a Rogue will be detected,
+That I have Warriors, am myself a King,
+And will be honour'd and obey'd as such;
+Tell him my Subjects shall not be oppress'd,
+But I will seek Redress and take Revenge;
+Tell your King this; I have no more to say.
+
+SHARP.
+
+To our great King your Gifts we will convey,
+And let him know the Talk we've had with you;
+We're griev'd we cannot smoke the Pipe of Peace,
+And part with stronger Proofs of Love and Friendship;
+Meantime we hope you'll so consider Matters,
+As still to keep the Hatchet dull and buried,
+And open wide the shining Path of Peace,
+That you and we may walk without a Blunder.         [_Exeunt INDIANS._
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Th' appear not fully satisfied, I think.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I do not like old Ponteach's Talk and Air,
+He seems suspicious, and inclin'd to war.
+
+SHARP.
+
+They're always jealous, bloody, and revengeful,
+You see that they distrust our Word and Honour;
+No wonder then if they suspect the Traders,
+And often charge them with downright Injustice.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+True, when even we that come to make them Presents,
+Cannot escape their Fears and Jealousies.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+Well, we have this, at least, to comfort us;
+Their good Opinion is no Commendation,
+Nor their foul Slanders any Stain to Honour.
+I think we've done whatever Men could do
+To reconcile their savage Minds to Peace.
+If they're displeas'd, our Honour is acquitted,
+And we have not been wanting in our Duty
+To them, our King, our Country, and our Friends.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+But what Returns are these they've left behind?
+These Belts are valuable, and neatly wrought.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+This Pack of Furs is very weighty too;
+The Skins are pick'd, and of the choicest Kind.
+
+SHARP.
+
+By Jove, they're worth more Money than their Presents.
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Indeed they are; the King will be no Loser.
+
+SHARP.
+
+The King! who ever sent such Trumpery to him?
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+What would the King of England do with Wampum?
+Or Beaver Skins, d'ye think? He's not a Hatter!
+
+GRIPE.
+
+Then it's a Perquisite belongs to us?
+
+SHARP.
+
+Yes, they're become our lawful Goods and Chattels,
+By all the Rules and Laws of Indian Treaties.
+The King would scorn to take a Gift from Indians,
+And think us Madmen, should we send them to him.
+
+CATCHUM.
+
+I understand we make a fair Division,
+And have no Words nor Fraud among ourselves.
+
+SHARP.
+
+We throw the whole into one common Stock,
+And go Copartners in the Loss and Gain.
+Thus most who handle Money for the Crown
+Find means to make the better Half their own;
+And, to your better Judgments with Submission,
+The self Neglecter's a poor Politician.
+These Gifts, you see will all Expences pay;  }
+Heav'n send an Indian Treaty every Day;      }
+We dearly love to serve our King this way.   }
+
+_The End of the First Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. _An Indian House._
+
+_Enter PHILIP and CHEKITAN from hunting, loaded with venison._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+The Day's Toil's ended, and the Ev'ning smiles
+With all the Joy and Pleasantness of Plenty.
+Our good Success and Fortune in the Chace
+Will make us Mirth and Pastime for the Night.
+How will the old King and his Hunters smile
+To see us loaded with the fatt'ning Prey,
+And joyously relate their own Adventures?
+Not the brave Victor's Shout, or Spoils of War,
+Would give such Pleasure to their gladden'd Hearts.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+These, Philip, are the unstain'd Fruits of Peace,
+Effected by the conqu'ring British Troops.
+Now may we hunt the Wilds secure from Foes,
+And seek our Food and Clothing by the Chace,
+While Ease and Plenty thro' our Country reign.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Happy Effects indeed! long may they last!
+But I suspect the Term will be but short,
+Ere this our happy Realm is curs'd afresh
+With all the Noise and Miseries of War,
+And Blood and Murder stain our Land again.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What hast thou heard that seems to threaten this,
+Or is it idle Fancy and Conjectures?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Our Father's late Behaviour and Discourse
+Unite to raise Suspicions in my Mind
+Of his Designs? Hast thou not yet observ'd,
+That tho' at first he favour'd England's Troops,
+When they late landed on our fertile Shore,
+Proclaim'd his Approbation of their March,
+Convoy'd their Stores, protected them from Harm,
+Nay, put them in Possession of Detroit;
+And join'd to fill the Air with loud Huzzas
+When England's Flag was planted on its Walls?
+Yet, since, he seems displeas'd at their Success,
+Thinks himself injured, treated with Neglect
+By their Commanders, as of no Account,
+As one subdu'd and conquer'd with the French,
+As one, whose Right to Empire now is lost,
+And he become a Vassal of their Power,
+Instead of an Ally. At this he's mov'd,
+And in his Royal Bosom glows Revenge,
+Which I suspect will sudden burst and spread
+Like Lightning from the Summer's burning Cloud,
+That instant sets whole Forests in a Blaze.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Something like this I have indeed perceiv'd;
+And this explains what I but now beheld,
+Returning from the Chace, myself concealed,
+Our Royal Father basking in the Shade,
+His Looks severe, Revenge was in his Eyes,
+All his great Soul seem'd mounted in his Face,
+And bent on something hazardous and great.
+With pensive Air he view'd the Forest round;
+Smote on his Breast as if oppress'd with Wrongs,
+With Indignation stamp'd upon the Ground;
+Extended then and shook his mighty Arm,
+As in Defiance of a coming Foe;
+Then like the hunted Elk he forward sprung,
+As tho' to trample his Assailants down.
+The broken Accents murmur'd from his Tongue,
+As rumbling Thunder from a distant Cloud,
+Distinct I heard, "'Tis fix'd, I'll be reveng'd;
+I will make War; I'll drown this Land in Blood."
+He disappear'd like the fresh-started Roe
+Pursu'd by Hounds o'er rocky Hills and Dales,
+That instant leaves the anxious Hunter's Eye;
+Such was his Speed towards the other Chiefs.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+He's gone to sound their Minds to Peace and War,
+And learn who'll join the Hazards in his Cause.
+The Fox, the Bear, the Eagle, Otter, Wolf,
+And other valiant Princes of the Empire,
+Have late resorted hither for some End
+Of common Import. Time will soon reveal
+Their secret Counsels and their fix'd Decrees.
+Peace has its Charms for those who love their Ease,
+But active Souls like mine delight in Blood.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Should War be wag'd, what Discords may we fear
+Among ourselves? The powerful Mohawk King
+Will ne'er consent to fight against the English,
+Nay, more, will join them as firm Ally,
+And influence other Chiefs by his Example,
+To muster all their Strength against our Father.
+Fathers perhaps will fight against their Sons,
+And nearest Friends pursue each other's Lives;
+Blood, Murder, Death, and Horror will be rife,
+Where Peace and Love, and Friendship triumph now.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Such stale Conjectures smell of Cowardice.
+Our Father's Temper shews us the reverse:
+All Danger he defies, and, once resolv'd,
+No Arguments will move him to relent,
+No Motives change his Purpose of Revenge,
+No Prayers prevail upon him to delay
+The Execution of his fix'd Design:
+Like the starv'd Tyger in Pursuit of Prey,
+No Opposition will retard his Course;
+Like the wing'd Eagle that looks down on Clouds,
+All Hindrances are little in his Eye,
+And his great Mind knows not the Pain of Fear.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Such Hurricanes of Courage often lead
+To Shame and Disappointment in the End,
+And tumble blindfold on their own Disgrace.
+True Valour's slow, deliberate, and cool,
+Considers well the End, the Way, the Means,
+And weighs each Circumstance attending them.
+Imaginary Dangers it detects,
+And guards itself against all real Evils.
+But here Tenesco comes with Speed important;
+His Looks and Face presage us something new.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Hail, noble Youth! The News of your Return
+And great Success has reach'd your Father's Ears.
+Great is his Joy; but something more important
+Seems to rest heavy on his anxious Mind,
+And he commands your Presence at his Cabin.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+We will attend his Call with utmost Speed,
+Nor wait Refreshment after our Day's Toil.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II. _PONTEACH'S Cabin._
+
+_PONTEACH, PHILIP, CHEKITAN, and TENESCO._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+My Sons, and trusty Counsellor Tenesco,
+As the sweet smelling Rose, when yet a Bud,
+Lies close conceal'd, till Time and the Sun's Warmth
+Hath swell'd, matur'd, and brought it forth to View,
+So these my Purposes I now reveal
+Are to be kept with You, on pain of Death,
+Till Time hath ripen'd my aspiring Plan,
+And Fortune's Sunshine shall disclose the Whole;
+Or should we fail, and Fortune prove perverse,
+Let it be never known how far we fail'd,
+Lest Fools shou'd triumph, or our Foes rejoice.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Life of Great Designs is Secrecy,
+And in Affairs of State 'tis Honour's Guard;
+For Wisdom cannot form a Scheme so well,
+But Fools will laugh if it should prove abortive;
+And our Designs once known, our Honour's made
+Dependent on the Fickleness of Fortune.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+What may your great and secret Purpose be,
+That thus requires Concealment in its Birth?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+To raise the Hatchet from its short Repose,
+Brighten its Edge, and stain it deep with Blood;
+To scourge my proud, insulting, haughty Foes,
+To enlarge my Empire, which will soon be yours:
+Your Interest, Glory, Grandeur, I consult,
+And therefore hope with Vigour you'll pursue
+And execute whatever I command.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+When we refuse Obedience to your Will,
+We are not worthy to be call'd your Sons.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+If we inherit not our Father's Valour,
+We never can deserve to share his Empire.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Spoke like yourselves, the Sons of Ponteach;
+Strength, Courage, and Obedience form the Soldier,
+And the firm Base of all true Greatness lay.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Our Empire now is large, our Forces strong,
+Our Chiefs are wise, our Warriors valiant Men;
+We all are furnish'd with the best of Arms,
+And all things requisite to curb a Foe;
+And now's our Time, if ever, to secure
+Our Country, Kindred, Empire, all that's dear,
+From these Invaders of our Rights, the English,
+And set their Bounds towards the rising Sun.
+Long have I seen with a suspicious Eye
+The Strength and growing Numbers of the French;
+Their Forts and Settlements I've view'd as Snakes
+Of mortal Bite, bound by the Winter Frost,
+Which in some future warm reviving Day
+Would stir and hiss, and spit their Poison forth,
+And spread Destruction through our happy Land.
+Where are we now? The French are all subdued,
+But who are in their Stead become our Lords?
+A proud, imperious, churlish, haughty Band.
+The French familiarized themselves with us,
+Studied our Tongue, and Manners, wore our Dress,
+Married our Daughters, and our Sons their Maids,
+Dealt honestly, and well supplied our Wants,
+Used no One ill, and treated with Respect
+Our Kings, our Captains, and our aged Men;
+Call'd us their Friends, nay, what is more, their Children,
+And seem'd like Fathers anxious for our Welfare.
+Whom see we now? their haughty Conquerors
+Possess'd of every Fort, and Lake, and Pass,
+Big with their Victories so often gain'd;
+On us they look with deep Contempt and Scorn,
+Are false, deceitful, knavish, insolent;
+Nay, think us conquered, and our Country theirs,
+Without a Purchase, or ev'n asking for it.
+With Pleasure I wou'd call their King my Friend,
+Yea, honour and obey him as my Father;
+I'd be content, would he keep his own Sea,
+And leave these distant Lakes and Streams to us;
+Nay, I would pay him Homage, if requested,
+And furnish Warriors to support his Cause.
+But thus to lose my Country and my Empire,
+To be a Vassal to his low Commanders,
+Treated with disrespect and public Scorn
+By Knaves, by Miscreants, Creatures of his Power;
+Can this become a King like Ponteach,
+Whose Empire's measured only by the Sun?
+No, I'll assert my Right, the Hatchet raise,
+And drive these Britons hence like frighted Deer,
+Destroy their Forts, and make them rue the Day
+That to our fertile Land they found the Way.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+No Contradiction to your great Design;
+But will not such Proceeding injure us?
+Where is our Trade and Commerce to be carry'd?
+For they're possess'd of all the Country round,
+Or whence Supplies of Implements for War?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Whence? Take them from our conquered running Foes.
+Their Fortresses are Magazines of Death,
+Which we can quickly turn against themselves;
+And when they're driven to their destin'd Bounds,
+Their Love of Gain will soon renew their Trade.
+The heartless French, whene'er they see us conquer,
+Will join their little Force to help us on.
+Nay, many of their own brave trusty Soldiers,
+In Hope of Gain, will give us their Assistance;
+For Gain's their great Commander, and will lead them
+Where their brave Generals cannot force their March:
+Some have engag'd, when they see hope of Plunder,
+In sly Disguise to kill their Countrymen.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+These Things indeed are promising and fair,
+And seem a Prelude to our full Success.
+But will not many Indian Chiefs refuse
+To join the Lists, and hold themselves oblig'd
+T' assist the Foe when hardly press'd by us?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I've sounded all their Minds; there's but a few
+That are not warm and hearty in our Cause,
+And those faint Hearts we'll punish at our Leisure:
+For hither tends my Purpose; to subdue
+The Tribes who now their annual Homage pay
+To the imperious haughty Mohawk Chief,
+Whose Pride and Insolence 'tis Time to curb.
+He ever boasts the Greatness of his Empire,
+The Swiftness, Skill and Valour of his Warriors,
+His former Conquests, and his fresh Exploits,
+The Terror of his Arms in distant Lands,
+And on a Footing puts himself with me,
+For Wisdom to contrive, and Power to do.
+Such a proud Rival must not breathe the Air;
+I'll die in fighting, or I'll reign alone
+O'er every Indian Nation, Tribe, and Chief.
+But this in solemn Silence we conceal,
+Till they're drawn in to fight the common Foe,
+Then from my Face, the sly Disguise I'll cast,
+And shew them Ponteach to their Surprise.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Thy Plan is wise, and may Success attend it;
+May all the warlike numerous Tribes unite,
+Nor cease to conquer while thou hast a Foe!
+Then may they join and own thee for their Sovereign,
+Pay full Submission to thy scepter'd Arm,
+And universal Empire by thy own!
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Would you the Mohawk Emperor displease,
+And wage a bloody War, by which you made
+Him and his num'rous Tribes your certain Foes?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Most of his Tribes will welcome the Proposal;
+For long their galled Necks have felt the Yoke,
+Long wish'd for Freedom from his partial Sway,
+In favour of the proud incroaching Britons.
+Nay, they have oft, in spite of his Displeasure,
+Rush'd forth like Wolves upon their naked Borders,
+And now, like Tygers broken from their Chains,
+they'll glut themselves, and revel in their Blood.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Myself will undertake to make even Hendrick
+Our zealous Friend against the common Foe;
+His strong Attachment to them I'll dissolve,
+And make him rage, and thirst for Vengeance on them.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+This would be doing Honour to thyself,
+And make thee worthy of thy Father's Crown.
+The secret Means I will not now inquire,
+Nor doubt but thus engag'd you will perform.
+The Chiefs in part are knowing to my Purpose,
+And think of nought but War, and Blood, and Plunder,
+Till in full Council we declare our Pleasure.
+But first my last Night's Dream I will relate,
+Which much disturb'd my weary anxious Mind,
+And must portend some signal grand Event
+Of Good or Evil both to me or mine.
+On yonder Plain I saw the lordly Elk
+Snuffing the empty Air in seeming Sport,
+Tossing his Head aloft, as if in Pride
+Of his great Bulk and nervous active Limbs,
+And Scorn of every Beast that haunts the Wood.
+With mighty Stride he travelled to and fro,
+And as he mov'd his Size was still increas'd,
+Till his wide Branches reached above the Trees,
+And his extended Trunk across the Plain.
+The other Beasts beheld with wild Amaze,
+Stood trembling round, nor dare they to approach
+Till the fierce Tyger yell'd the loud Alarm,
+When Bears, Cats, Wolves, Panthers, and Porcupines,
+And other Beasts of Prey, with Force united
+And savage Rage, attack'd the common Foe.
+But as the busking Bull, when Summer Flies,
+With keenest Sting disturb the grazing Herd,
+Stands careless in some shady cool Retreat,
+And from his Sides sweeps the envenom'd Mites,
+Or shakes them with a Stamp into the Dust;
+So he unmov'd amidst their Clamours stood,
+Trampled and spurn'd them with his Hoofs and Horns,
+Till all dispers'd in wild Disorder fled,
+And left him Master of th' extended Plain.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This Dream no doubt is full of some great Meaning,
+And in it bears the Fate of your Design,
+But whether good or ill, to me 's a Secret.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+It ne'er was counted ill to dream of Elks,
+But always thought portentous of Success,
+Of happy Life, and Victories in War,
+Or fortune good when we attempt the Chace.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Such is the common Say; but here the Size
+And all the Circumstances are uncommon,
+And therefore can contain no common Meaning:
+I fear these Things portend no Good to us,
+That Mischiefs lurk like Serpents in the Grass,
+Whose pois'nous deadly Bite precedes all Warning.
+That this Design will end in mighty Ruin
+To us and ours, Discord among our Friends,
+And Triumph to our Foes.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+A valiant Hero!
+Thou always wast a Coward, and hated War,
+And lov'st to loll on the soft Lap of Peace.
+Thou art a very Woman in thy Heart,
+And talk'st of Snakes and Bugbears in the Dark,
+Till all is Horror and Amaze about thee,
+And even thy own Shadow makes thee tremble.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Is there no Courage in delib'rate Wisdom?
+Is all rank Cowardice but Fire and Fury?
+Is it all womanish to re-consider
+And weigh the Consequences of our Actions,
+Before we desperately rush upon them?
+Let me then be the Coward, a mere Woman,
+Mine be the Praise of Coolness, yours of Rage.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Peace, Peace, my Sons, nor let this casual Strife
+divide your Hearts; both mean the common Good;
+Go Hand in Hand to conquer and promote it.
+I'll to our worthy Doctor and the Priest,
+Who for our Souls' Salvation come from France;
+They sure can solve the Mysteries of Fate,
+And all the Secrets of a Dream explain;
+Mean while, Tenesco, warn the other Chiefs
+That they attend my Call within an Hour.
+                                       [_Exeunt PONTEACH and TENESCO._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+My Warmth perhaps has carried me too far,
+But it's not in me to be cool and backward
+To act or speak when Kingdoms are the Prize.
+My Blood runs high at the sweet Sound of Empire,
+Such as our Father's Plan ensures to us,
+And I'm impatient of the least Delay.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Thy Fire thou hast a Right to style a Virtue;
+Heat is our Friend when kept within due Bounds,
+But if unbridled and allowed to rage,
+It burns and blisters, torments and consumes,
+And, Torrent-like, sweeps every Comfort by.
+Think if our Father's Plan should prove abortive,
+Our Troops repuls'd, or in th' Encounter slain,
+Where are our conquer'd Kingdoms then to share,
+Where are our Vict'ries, Trophies, Triumphs, Crowns,
+That dazzle in thy Eye, and swell thy Heart;
+That nerve thy Arm, and wing thy Feet to War
+With this impetuous Violence and Speed?
+Crest-fallen then, our native Empire lost,
+In captive Chains we drag a wretched Life,
+Or fly inglorious from the conquering Foe
+To barren Mountains from this fertile Land,
+There to repent our Folly when too late,
+In Anguish mourn, and curse our wretched Fate.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+But why so much of Mischiefs that may happen?
+These are mere Possibilities at most;
+Creatures of Thought, which ne'er can be Objections,
+In valiant Minds, to any great Attempt;
+They're empty Echoes of a tim'rous Soul,
+Like Bubbles driv'n by the tempestuous Storm,
+The Breath of Resolution sweeps them off.
+Nor dost thou judge them solid from thy Heart,
+I know the secret Motive in thy Breast,
+Thus to oppose our Father's great Design,
+And from an Undertaking to dissuade,
+In which thou'lt share the Profit and the Glory.
+Hendrick, the King of Mohawks, hath a Daughter,
+With whom I saw you dallying in the Shade,
+And thought you then a Captive to her Charms.
+The bright Monelia hangs upon thy Heart,
+And softens all the Passions of thy Soul;
+Her thou think'st lost should we proclaim a War,
+In which the King her Father will not join.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What if I have a Value for Monelia,
+Is it a Crime? Does she not merit Love
+From all who see her move, or hear her speak?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+True, she is engaging, has a charming Air;
+And if thy Love is fix'd, I will assist it,
+And put thee in Possession of the Joy
+That thou desirest more than Crowns and Empire.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+As how, dear Philip? Should we wage a War,
+Which Hendrick disapproves, the Prize is lost.
+Not Empires then could make Monelia mine;
+All Hopes are dash'd upon that fatal Rock;
+Nor Gold, nor Prayers, nor Tears, nor Promises,
+Nor all the Engin'ry of Love at Work,
+Could save a single Moment of my Joy.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Yes, I will save it all and make her thine,
+Act but thy Part, and do as I prescribe,
+In Peace or War thou shalt possess the Prize.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Thy Words revive my half-despairing Heart.
+What must I act? or which Way must I turn?
+I'll brave all Dangers, every Ill defy,
+Risk Life itself, to call Monelia mine.
+Help me, my Philip, and I'll be thy Slave,
+Resign my Share of Empire to thy Hand,
+And lay a Claim to nothing but Monelia.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Rewards I do not ask; I am thy Brother,
+And hold my Kindness to thee as a Debt.
+Thou know'st I have engag'd to bring King Hendrick
+To join the Lists, and fight against our Foes,
+To rouse him to Revenge, and Rage, and War,
+And make him zealous in the common Cause.
+Nay, with uncommon Fury he shall rave,
+And urge his Warriors on to Blood and Murder.
+When this is done, Monelia may be thine,
+Hendrick will court Alliance to our Tribe,
+And joy to call great Ponteach's Son his own.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+But should you fail in these Attempts, and he
+Prove obstinately fix'd against the War,
+Where's then Monelia? where is Chekitan?
+My Hopes are blasted, all my Joys are fled,
+Like the vain Phantoms of a Midnight Dream,
+Are scattered like the Dust before a Whirlwind,
+And all my Soul is left a Void for Pain,
+Vexation, Madness, Frenzy, and Despair,
+And all the Pains of disappointed Love.
+Better I ne'er had flattered my fond Heart,
+Nor sooth'd my Mind with Prospects of my Joy,
+Than thus to perish on the Point of Hope.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Leave all to me; I've so concerted Matters,
+That I defy ev'n Fate to disappoint me.
+Exert thyself, and to Monelia go,
+Before th' assembled Chiefs in Council meet;
+Urge it to her, and to her Brother Torax,
+That should their Father prove refractory,
+Withdraw himself, and order his Domestics
+To hasten home at News of our Design;
+Urge it, I say, to them; Torax loves War;
+To linger here in Hopes of his Return,
+Which tell them I'll effect ere twice the Sun
+Has run the Circuit of his daily Race.
+Here they may loiter careless, range the Woods,
+As tho' the Noise of War had not been heard.
+This will give full Success to both our Wishes:
+Thou'lt gain the Prize of Love, and I of Wrath,
+In favour to our Family and State.
+Thou'lt tame the Turtle, I shall rouse the Tyger;
+The one will soothe thy Soul to soft Repose,
+The other prove a Terror to our Foes.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+I see the subtle Argument thou'lt use,
+And how thou'lt work upon the old King's Weakness,
+Thou'lt set his strong Affection for his Children
+At War against his Kindness for our Foes,
+By urging their Attachment to our Cause,
+That they'll endure ev'n Banishment and Death,
+Rather than cease to be our steadfast Friends.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+All this I'll urge, nay, more, I will convince him,
+These Foes to us can be no Friends to him;
+I'll thunder in his Ears their growing Power,
+Their Villainies and Cheats upon his Subjects:
+That their fair Shew of Love is foul Disguise;
+That in their Hearts they hate the Name of Indians,
+And court his Friendship only for their Profit;
+That when no longer he subserves their Ends,
+He may go whistle up some other Friends.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+This must alarm and bring him to our Mind.
+I'll hasten to my Charge with utmost Speed,
+Strain every Nerve, and every Power exert;
+Plead, promise, swear like any Christian Trader;
+But I'll detain them till our Ends are answer'd,
+And you have won their Father to our Purpose.                 [_Exit._
+
+PHILIP [_solus_].
+
+Oh! what a wretched Thing is a Man in Love!
+All Fear--all Hope--all Diffidence--all Faith--
+Distrusts the greatest Strength, depends on Straws--
+Soften'd, unprovident, disarm'd, unman'd,
+Led blindfold; every Power denies its Aid,
+And every Passion's but a Slave to this;
+Honour, Revenge, Ambition, Interest, all
+Upon its Altar bleed--Kingdoms and Crowns
+Are slighted and condemn'd, and all the Ties
+Of Nature are dissolv'd by this poor Passion:
+Once have I felt its Poison in my Heart,
+When this same Chekitan a Captive led
+The fair Donanta from the Illinois;
+I saw, admir'd, and lov'd the charming Maid,
+And as a Favour ask'd her from his Hands,
+But he refus'd and sold her for a Slave.
+My Love is dead, but my Resentment lives,
+And now's my Time to let the Flame break forth,
+For while I pay this ancient Debt of Vengeance,
+I'll serve my Country, and advance myself.
+He loves Monelia--Hendrick must be won--
+Monelia and her Brother both must bleed--
+This is my Vengeance on her Lover's Head--
+Then I'll affirm, 'twas done by Englishmen--
+And to gain Credit both with Friends and Foes,
+I'll wound myself, and say that I receiv'd it
+By striving to assist them in the Combat.
+This will rouse Hendrick's Wrath, and arm his Troops
+To Blood and Vengeance on the common Foe.
+And further still my Profit may extend;
+My Brother's Rage will lead him into Danger,
+And, he cut off, the Empire's all my own.
+Thus am I fix'd; my Scheme of Goodness laid,
+And I'll effect it, tho' thro' Blood I wade,
+To desperate Wounds apply a desperate Cure,
+And to tall Structures lay Foundations sure;
+To Fame and Empire hence my Course I bend,
+And every Step I take shall thither tend.
+
+_End of the Second Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Forest._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+[_Seeing TORAX and MONELIA, coming towards them._]
+
+As the young Hunter, anxious in the Chace,
+With beating Heart and quivering Hand espies
+The wish'd for Game, and trembles for th' Event,
+So I behold the bright Monelia's Steps,
+Whom anxiously I've sought, approach this way--
+What shall I say? or how shall I accost her?
+It is a fatal Minute to mistake in.
+The Joy or Grief of Life depends upon 't;
+It is the important Crisis of my Fate.
+I've thought a thousand things to say and do,
+But know not which to say or do the first.
+Shall I begin with my old Tale of Love?
+Or shall I shock her with the News of War?
+Must I put on the Face of Joy or Grief?
+Seem unconcern'd or full of Doubts and Fears?
+How unprepar'd I am for the Encounter!
+I'd rather stand against an Host of Foes--
+But she draws near, and Fate must guide me now,
+                                           [_Enter TORAX and MONELIA._
+Where tend your Steps with such an Air of Joy?
+
+TORAX.
+
+To view the Beauties of th' extended Lake,
+And on its mossy Bank recline at Ease,
+While we behold the Sports of Fish and Fowl,
+Which in this Calm no doubt will be diverting.
+And these are new Amusements to Monelia,
+She never saw the Sea or Lakes before.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+I'm glad our Country's aught to give such Pleasure
+To one deservedly so welcome in it.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+That I am welcome you have oft assur'd me,
+That I deserve it you may be mistaken,
+The outside Shew, the Form, the Dress, the Air,
+That please at first Acquaintance, oft deceive us,
+And prove more Mimickers of true Desert,
+Which always brightens by a further Trial,
+Appears more lovely as we know it better,
+At least can never suffer by Acquaintance.
+Perhaps then you To-morrow will despise
+What you esteem To-day, and call deserving.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+My Love to you, Monelia, cannot change.
+Your Beauty, like the Sun, for ever pleases,
+And like the Earth, my Love can never move.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+The Earth itself is sometimes known to shake,
+And the bright Sun by Clouds is oft conceal'd,
+And gloomy Night succeeds the Smiles of Day;
+So Beauty oft by foulest Faults is veil'd,
+And after one short Blaze admir'd no more,
+Loses its Lustre, drops its sparkling Charms,
+The Lover sickens, and his Passion dies.
+Nay, worse, he hates what he so doted on.
+Time only proves the Truth of Worth and Love,
+The one may be a Cheat, the other change,
+And Fears, and Jealousies, and mortal Hate,
+Succeed the Sunshine of the warmest Passion.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Have I not vow'd my Love to you, Monelia,
+And open'd all the Weakness of my Heart?
+You cannot think me false and insincere,
+When I repeat my Vows to love you still;
+Each time I see you move, or hear you speak,
+It adds fresh Fuel to the growing Flame.
+You're like the rising Sun, whose Beams increase
+As he advances upward to our View;
+We gaze with growing Wonder till we're blind,
+And every Beauty fades and dies but his.
+Thus shall I always view your growing Charm,
+And every Day and Hour with fresh Delight.
+Witness thou Sun and Moon, and Stars above,
+Witness ye purling Streams and quivering Lakes,
+Witness ye Groves and Hills, and Springs and Plains,
+Witness ye Shades, and the cool Fountain, where
+I first espied the Image of her Charms,
+And starting saw her on th' adjacent Bank,
+If I to my Monelia prove untrue.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Hoh! now your Talk is so much like a Christian's,
+That I must be excus'd if I distrust you,
+And think your fair Pretences all designing.
+I once was courted by a spruce young Blade,
+A lac'd Coat Captain, warlike, active, gay,
+Cockaded Hat and Medal on his Breast,
+And every thing was clever but his Tongue;
+He swore he lov'd, O! how he swore he lov'd,
+Call'd on his God and Stars to witness for him,
+Wish'd he might die, be blown to Hell and damn'd,
+If ever he lov'd woman so before:
+Call'd me his Princess, Charmer, Angel, Goddess,
+Swore nothing else was ever half so pretty,
+So dear, so sweet, so much to please his Taste,
+He kiss'd, he squeez'd, and press'd me to his Bosom,
+Vow'd nothing could abate his ardent Passion,
+Swore he should die, should drown, or hang himself,
+Could not exist if I denied his Suit,
+And said a thousand Things I cannot Name:
+My simple Heart, made soft by so much Heat,
+Half gave Consent, meaning to be his Bride.
+The Moment thus unguarded, he embrac'd,
+And impudently ask'd to stain my Virtue.
+With just Disdain I push'd him from my Arms,
+And let him know he'd kindled my Resentment;
+The Scene was chang'd from Sunshine to a Storm,
+Oh! then he curs'd, and swore, and damn'd, and sunk,
+Call'd me proud Bitch, pray'd Heav'n to blast my Soul,
+Wish'd Furies, Hell, and Devils had my Body,
+To say no more; bid me begone in Haste
+Without the smallest Mark of his Affection.
+This was an Englishman, a Christian Lover.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Would you compare an Indian Prince to those
+Whose Trade it is to cheat, deceive, and flatter?
+Who rarely speak the Meaning of their Hearts?
+Whose Tongues are full of Promises and Vows?
+Whose very Language is a downright Lie?
+Who swear and call on Gods when they mean nothing?
+Who call it complaisant, polite good Breeding,
+To say Ten thousand things they don't intend,
+And tell their nearest Friends the basest Falsehood?
+I know you cannot think me so perverse,
+Such Baseness dwells not in an Indian's Heart,
+And I'll convince you that I am no Christian.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Then do not swear, nor vow, nor promise much,
+An honest Heart needs none of this Parade;
+Its Sense steals softly to the list'ning Ear,
+And Love, like a rich Jewel we most value,
+When we ourselves by Chance espy its Blaze
+And none proclaims where we may find the Prize.
+Mistake me not, I don't impeach your Honour,
+Nor think you undeserving my Esteem;
+When our Hands join you may repeat your Love,
+But save these Repetitions from the Tongue.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Forgive me, if my Fondness is too pressing,
+'Tis Fear, 'tis anxious Fear, that makes it so.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+What do you fear? have I not said enough?
+Or would you have me swear some Christian Oath?
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+No, but I fear our Love will be oppos'd,
+Your Father will forbid our Hands to join.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+I cannot think it; you are Ponteach's Son,
+Heir to an Empire large and rich as his.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+True; but your Father is a Friend to Britons,
+And mine a Foe, and now is fix'd on War,
+Immediate War: This Day the Chiefs assemble,
+To raise the Hatchet, and to arm the Troops.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Then I must leave your Realm, and bid Adieu,
+In spite of your fond Passion, or my own;
+For I can never disoblige my Father,
+Though by it I were sure to gain an Empire.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Then Chekitan's undone, undone for ever.
+Unless your Father by kind Fate is mov'd
+To be our Friend, and join the Lists with mine.
+
+TORAX.
+
+Nothing would please me better; I love War,
+And think it time to curb the English Pride,
+And give a check to their increasing Power.
+The Land is ravag'd by their numerous Bands,
+And every Day they're growing more our Lords.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Are you sincere, or do you feign this Speech?
+
+TORAX.
+
+Indeed my Tongue does not bely my Heart;
+And but my Father's wrong-turn'd Policy
+Forbids, I'd instant join in War with you,
+And help to set new Limits to their Power.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+'Tis plain, if they proceed, nor you nor I
+Shall rule an Empire, or possess a Crown,
+Our Countries all will soon become a Prey
+To Strangers; we perhaps shall be their Slaves.
+But will your Father be convinc'd of this?
+
+TORAX.
+
+I doubt he'll not. The good old Man esteems
+And dotes upon them as most worthy Friends;
+I've told him often that he cherish'd Serpents,
+To bite his Children, and destroy his Friends.
+But this he calls the Folly of my Youth,
+Bids me be silent, show Respect to Age,
+Nor sow Sedition in my Father's Empire.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Stiff as he is, he yet may be subdued;
+And I've a Power prepar'd that will attack him.
+Should he refuse his Aid to our Design,
+Retire himself, and bid his Troops to follow,
+Yet Philip stands engag'd for his Return,
+Ere twice the Sun has ris'n and blest the Earth.
+Philip is eloquent, and so prepar'd,
+He cannot fail to bend him to our Purpose.
+You and Monelia have a Part to act;
+To linger here, should he in Haste retreat
+Till Philip follows and employs his Force.
+Your Stay will add new Life to the Design,
+And be of mighty Weight to gain Success.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+How shall we tarry midst the Noise of War,
+In Danger of our Lives from Friends and Foes;
+This will be deem'd a Madness by our Father,
+And will deserve his most severe Rebuke.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Myself will be a Sponsor for your Safety;
+And should your Father baffle our Attempts,
+Conduct you home from all the Noise of War,
+Where may you long in Peace and Plenty smile,
+While I return to mourn my hapless Fate.
+But should Success attend on Philip's Purpose.
+Your Father will not discommend your Stay,
+But smiling give new Vigour to the War;
+Which being ended, and our Foes subdu'd,
+The happy Fruits of Peace succeed to all,
+But we shall taste the greater Sweets of Love.
+
+TORAX.
+
+The Purport of our Stay is hid from me;
+But Philip's subtle, crafty as the Fox.
+We'll give full Scope to his enticing Art,
+And help him what we can to take the Prey.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+In your Protection then I trust myself,
+Nor will delay beyond th' appointed Term,
+Lest anxious Fears possess our Father's Heart,
+Or Mischiefs happen that incur his Anger.
+
+TORAX.
+
+It is agreed; we now pursue our Walk;
+Mean time consult what else may be of Use,
+You're pain'd with Love, and I'm in Pain for War.           [_Exeunt._
+
+CHEKITAN [_solus_].
+
+The Game is sure--Her Brother's on my Side--
+Her Brother and my own--My Force is strong--
+But could her Father now be rous'd to War,
+How should I triumph and defy even Fate?
+But Fortune favours all advent'rous Souls:
+I'll now to Philip; tell him my Success,
+And rouse up every Spark of Vigour in him:
+He will conceive fresh Hopes, and be more zealous.
+
+
+SCENE II. _PONTEACH'S Cabin._
+
+_PONTEACH, an Indian CONJURER, and French PRIEST._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Well! have you found the Secret of my Dream,
+By all your Cries, and Howls, and Sweats, and Prayers?
+Or is the Meaning still conceal'd from Man,
+And only known to Genii and the Gods?
+
+CONJURER.
+
+Two Hours I've lain within the sultry Stove,
+While Floods of Sweat ran trickling from my Skin;
+With Howls and Cries and all the Force of Sound
+Have I invok'd your Genius and my own,
+Smote on my Breast, and beat against my Head,
+To move an Answer, and the Secret learn.
+But all in vain, no Answer can I have,
+Till I first learn what secret Purposes
+And great Designs are brooding in your Mind.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+At our pure Virgin's Shrine I've bowed my Knees,
+And there in fervent Prayer pour'd out my Soul;
+Call'd on Saint Peter, call'd on all the Saints
+That know the Secrets both of Heaven and Earth,
+And can reveal what Gods themselves can do:
+I've us'd the Arts of our most holy Mother,
+Which I receiv'd when I forsook the World,
+And gave myself to Holiness and Heaven;
+But can't obtain the Secret of your Dream,
+Till I first know the Secrets of your Heart,
+Or what you hope or wish to be effected.
+'Tis on these Terms we learn the Will of God,
+What Good or Ill awaits on Kings or Kingdoms;
+And without this, St. Peter's Self can't tell,
+But at a Dream like yours would be confounded.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+You're well agreed--Our Gods are much alike--
+And I suspect both Rogues--What! won't they tell!
+Should they betray my Scheme, the whole is blown.
+And yet I fain would know. I'll charge them first.
+Look here; if I disclose a Secret to you,
+Tell it to none but silent honest Gods;
+Death to you both, if you reveal to Men.
+
+BOTH.
+
+We will, we will, the Gods alone shall know.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Know then that I have fix'd on speedy War,
+To drive these new Encroachers from my Country.
+For this I meant t' engage our several Tribes,
+And when our Foes are driven to their Bounds,
+That we may stand and hold our Rights secure,
+Unite our Strength under one common Head,
+Whom all these Petty Kings must own their Lord,
+Not even Hendrick's self shall be excused.
+This is my Purpose. Learn if it shall prosper,
+Or will it end in Infamy and Shame?
+
+CONJURER.
+
+[_Smiting on his breast, groaning, and muttering in his cloak or
+    blanket, falls down upon the ground, beats his head against it, and
+    pretends to listen: then rises, and says with a rumbling hideous
+    voice:_]
+
+Success and Victory shall attend your Arms;
+You are the mighty Elk that none can conquer,
+And all the Tribes shall own you for their King.
+Thus, say the Genii, does your Dream intend.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+[_Looking up to Heaven in a praying posture for a small space, says:_]
+
+Had I but known you was resolv'd on War,
+And War against those Heretics the English,
+I need not to have ask'd a God or Saint
+To signify the Import of your Dream.
+Your great Design shall have a prosperous End,
+'Tis by the Gods approv'd, and must succeed.
+Angels and Saints are dancing now in Heaven:
+Your Enemies are theirs, are hated by them,
+And they'll protect and help you as their Champion,          [_Aside._
+That fights their Battles, and defends their Cause.
+Our great St. Peter is himself a Warrior;
+He drew his Sword against such Infidels,
+And now, like him, you'll gain immortal Honour,
+And Gods in Heaven and Saints on Earth will praise you.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Gods and Genii do as you have said.
+I'll to the Chiefs, and hasten them to Arms.
+                                      [_Exeunt PONTEACH and CONJURER._
+
+PRIEST [_solus_].
+
+This, by St. Peter, goes as I would have it.
+The Conjurer agreed with me to pump him,
+Or else deny to solve his dubious Vision:
+But, that we've so agreed in our Responses,
+Is all mere Providence, and rul'd by Heaven,
+To give us further Credit with this Indian.
+Now he is fix'd--will wage immediate War--
+This will be joyful News in France and Rome,
+That Ponteach is in Arms, and won't allow
+The English to possess their new-gain'd Empire:
+That he has slain their Troops, destroy'd their Forts,
+Expell'd them from the Lakes to their old Limits:
+That he prefers the French, and will assist
+To repossess them of this fertile Land.
+By all the Saints, of this I'll make a Merit,
+Declare myself to be the wise Projector;
+This may advance me towards St. Peter's Chair,
+And these blind Infidels by Accident
+May have a Hand in making me a Pope--
+But stop--Won't this defeat my other Purpose?
+To gain the Mohawk Princess to my Wishes?
+No--by the holy Virgin, I'll surprise her,
+And have one hearty Revel in her Charms.
+But now I'll hasten to this Indian Council;
+I may do something there that's apropos.                      [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III. _An Indian Senate-House._
+
+_PONTEACH, TENESCO, PHILIP, ASTINACO, BEAR, WOLF, and French PRIEST._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Are all the Chiefs and Warriors here assembled,
+That we expect to honour this Day's Council?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+All are conven'd except the Mohawk King,
+Who, as we are inform'd, denies his Presence.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I've half succeeded with the stubborn Chief.
+He will not join in Council, but hath promised,
+Till further Notice, not to be our Foe:
+He'll see how we unite, and what Success
+Attends our Arms; in short, he gives strong Hints
+That he will soon befriend the common Cause.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Do what he will, 'tis this explains my Meaning;
+                                             [_Taking up the hatchet._
+You all are well appris'd of my Design,
+Which every passing Moment but confirms:
+Nay, my Heart's pain'd while I withhold my Hand
+From Blood and Vengeance on our hated Foes.
+Tho' I should stand alone, I'll try my Power
+To punish their Encroachments, Frauds, and Pride;
+Yet tho' I die, it is my Country's Cause,
+'Tis better thus to die than be despis'd;
+Better to die than be a Slave to Cowards,
+Better to die than see my Friends abus'd;
+The Aged scorn'd, the Young despis'd and spurn'd.
+Better to die than see my Country ruin'd,
+Myself, my Sons, my Friends reduc'd to Famine,
+Expell'd from hence to barren Rocks and Mountains,
+To curse our wretched Fate and pine in Want;
+Our pleasant Lakes and Fertile Lands usurp'd
+By Strangers, Ravagers, rapacious Christians.
+Who is it don't prefer a Death in War
+To this impending Wretchedness and Shame?
+Who is it loves his Country, Friends, or Self,
+And does not feel Resentment in his Soul?
+Who is it sees their growing Strength and Power,
+And how we waste and fail by swift Degrees,
+That does not think it Time to rouse and arm,
+And kill the Serpent ere we feel it sting,
+And fall the Victims of its painful Poison?
+Oh! could our Fathers from their Country see
+Their ancient Rights encroach'd upon and ravag'd,
+And we their Children slow, supine, and careless
+To keep the Liberty and Land they left us,
+And tamely fall a Sacrifice to Knaves!
+How would their Bosoms glow with patriot Shame,
+To see their Offspring so unlike themselves?
+They dared all Dangers to defend their Rights,
+Nor tamely bore an Insult from a Foe.
+Their plain rough Souls were brave and full of Fire,
+Lovers of War, nor knew the Pain of Fear.
+Rouse, then, ye Sons of ancient Heroes, rouse,
+Put on your Arms, and let us act a Part
+Worthy the Sons of such renowned Chiefs.
+Nor urge I you to Dangers that I shun,
+Or mean to act my Part by Words alone;
+This Hand shall wield the Hatchet in the Cause,
+These Feet pursue the frighted running Foe,
+This Body rush into the hottest Battle;
+There should I fall, I shall secure my Honour,
+And, dying, urge my Countrymen to Vengeance
+With more Success than all the Force of Words.
+Should I survive, I'll shed the foremost Tear
+O'er my brave Countrymen that chance to fall;
+I'll be the foremost to revenge their Blood,
+And, while I live, honour both them and theirs,
+I add no more, but wait to hear your Minds.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Tho' I'm a Warrior, and delight in Arms,
+Have oft with Pleasure heard the Sound of Battle,
+And oft return'd with Victory and Triumph;
+Yet I'm not fond to fight without just Cause,
+Or shed the Blood of Men for my Diversion;
+But I have seen, with my own Eyes I've seen,
+High Provocations from our present Foes,
+Their Pride and Insults, Knavery and Frauds,
+Their large Encroachments on our common Rights,
+Which every Day increase, are seen by all,
+And grown so common, they are disregarded.
+What calls on us more loudly for Revenge,
+Is their Contempt and Breach of public Faith.
+When we complain, they sometimes promise fair;
+When we grow restless, Treaties are propos'd,
+And Promises are gilded then with Presents.
+What is the End? Still the old Trade goes on;
+Their Colonels, Governors, and mighty Men,
+Cheat, lie, and break their solemn Promises,
+And take no care to have our Wrongs redress'd.
+Their King is distant, would he hear our Prayers:
+Still we've no other Way to come at Justice,
+But by our Arms to punish Wrongs like these,
+And Wrongs like these are national and public,
+Concern us all, and call for public Vengeance.
+And Wrongs like these are recent in our Minds.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Public or private Wrongs, no matter which.
+I think our Hunters ought to be reveng'd;
+Their Bodies are found torn by rav'nous Beasts,
+But who doubts they were kill'd by Englishmen?
+Their Heads are scalp'd, their Arms and Jewels gone,
+And Beasts of Prey can have no Use for these.
+No, they were murdered, slyly, basely shot,
+And who that has a Heart does not resent it?
+Oh! how I long to tear their mangled Limbs!
+Yes, I could eat their Hearts, and drink their Blood,
+And revel in their Torments, Pains, and Tortures;
+And, though I go alone, I'll seek Revenge.
+
+ASTINACO.
+
+This is the Fire and Madness of your Youth,
+And must be curb'd to do your Country Service.
+Facts are not always what they seem to be,
+And this perhaps may be the Fault of One
+Whom their Laws punish if you once detect him.
+Shall we then, to revenge your Countrymen,
+To recompense a Wrong by one committed,
+Rouse all to Arms, and make a general Slaughter?
+'Tis higher Motives move my Mind to War,
+And make me zealous in the common Cause.
+But hear me--'Tis no Trifle we're upon--
+If we have Wisdom, it must now be used;
+If we have Numbers, they must be united;
+If we have Strength, it must be all exerted;
+If we have Courage it must be inflamed,
+And every Art and Stratagem be practis'd:
+We've more to do than fright a Pigeon Roost,
+Or start a timorous Flock of running Deer;
+Yes, we've a strong, a warlike stubborn Foe,
+Unus'd to be repuls'd and quit the Field,
+Nay, flush'd with Victories and long Success,
+Their Numbers, Strength, and Courage all renown'd,
+'Tis little of them that you see or know.
+I've seen their Capital, their Troops and Stores,
+Their Ships, their Magazines of Death and Vengeance,
+And, what is more, I've seen their potent King,
+Who like a God sits over all the World,
+And thunders forth his Vengeance thro' the Earth.
+When he is pleas'd, Smiles sit upon his Face,
+And Goodness flows in Rivers at his Feet;
+When he's provok'd, 'tis like a fiery Tempest,
+All's Terror and Amazement in his Presence,
+And frighted Heroes trembling flee his Wrath.
+What then is to be done? what may we hope?
+At most, by secret, sly, and subtle Means
+To curb these vagrant Outcasts of his Subjects,
+Secure our Countries from their further Ravage,
+And make ourselves of more Importance to them,
+Perhaps procure a Peace to our Advantage.
+In this I'll join and head my valiant Troops,
+Who will not fail to act a valiant Part.
+
+THE BEAR.
+
+What is the Greatness of their King to us?
+What of his Strength or Wisdom? Shall we fear
+A Lion chain'd, or in another World?
+Or what avails his flowing Goodness to us?
+Does not the ravenous Tyger feed her Young?
+And the fierce Panther fawn upon his Mate?
+Do not the Wolves defend and help their Fellows,
+The poisonous Serpent feed her hissing Brood,
+And open wide her Mouth for their Protection?
+So this good King shows Kindness to his own,
+And favours them, to make a Prey of others;
+But at his Hands we may expect no Favour,
+Look back, my Friends, to our Forefathers' Time,
+Where is their Country? where their pleasant Haunts?
+The running Streams and shady Forests where?
+They chas'd the flying Game, and liv'd in Plenty.
+Lo, these proud Strangers now possess the Whole;
+Their Cities, Towns, and Villages arise,
+Forests are spoil'd, the Haunts of Game destroy'd,
+And all the Sea Coasts made one general Waste;
+Between the Rivers Torrent-like they sweep,
+And drive our Tribes toward the setting Sun.
+They who once liv'd on yon delightful Plains
+Are now no more, their very Name is lost.
+The Sons of potent Kings, subdu'd and murder'd,
+Are Vagrants, and unknown among their Neighbours.
+Where will the Ravage stop? the Ruin where?
+Does not the Torrent rush with growing Speed,
+And hurry us to the same wretched End?
+Let us grow wise then by our Fathers' Folly,
+Unite our Strength, too long it's been divided,
+And mutual Fears and Jealousies obtain'd:
+This has encourag'd our encroaching Foes,
+But we'll convince them, once, we dare oppose them.
+
+THE WOLF.
+
+Yet we have Strength by which we may oppose,
+But every Day this Strength declines and fails.
+Our great Forefathers, ere these Strangers came,
+Liv'd by the Chace, with Nature's Gifts content,
+The cooling Fountain quench'd their raging Thirst.
+Doctors, and Drugs, and Med'cines were unknown,
+Even Age itself was free from Pain and Sickness.
+Swift as the Wind, o'er Rocks and Hills they chas'd
+The flying Game, the bounding Stag outwinded,
+And tir'd the savage Bear, and tam'd the Tyger;
+At Evening feasted on the past Day's Toil,
+Nor then fatigu'd; the merry Dance and Song
+Succeeded; still with every rising Sun
+The Sport renew'd; or if some daring Foe
+Provok'd their Wrath, they bent the hostile Bow,
+Nor waited his Approach, but rush'd with Speed,
+Fearless of Hunger, Thirst, Fatigue, or Death.
+But we their soften'd Sons, a puny Race,
+Are weak in Youth, fear Dangers where they're not;
+Are weary'd with what was to them a Sport,
+Panting and breathless in One short Hour's Chace;
+And every Effort of our Strength is feeble.
+We're poison'd with the Infection of our Foes,
+Their very Looks and Actions are infectious,
+And in deep Silence spread Destruction round them.
+Bethink yourselves while any Strength remains;
+Dare to be like your Fathers, brave and strong,
+Nor further let the growing Poison spread.
+And would you stop it, you must resolve to conquer,
+Destroy their Forts and Bulwarks, burn their Towns,
+And keep them at a greater Distance from us.
+Oh! 'tis a Day I long have wish'd to see,
+And, aged as I am, my Youth returns
+To act with Vigour in so good a Cause.
+Yes, you shall see the old Wolf will not fail
+To head his Troops, and urge them on to Battle.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Your Minds are all for War, we'll not delay;
+Nor doubt but others gladly will comply,
+When they behold our Union and Success.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This Holy Priest has something to propose
+That may excite us all to greater Zeal.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Let him be heard: 'Tis something from his Gods,
+And may import the common Interest much.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+[_Coming from one side, where he hath stood listening._]
+
+'Tis not to shew my Eloquence of Speech,
+Or drown your Senses with unmeaning Sound,
+That I desire Admittance to your Council;
+It is an Impulse from the Gods that moves me,
+That what I say will be to your Advantage.
+Oh! With what secret Pleasure I behold
+So many wise and valiant Kings unite,
+And in a Cause by Gods and Saints espous'd.
+Heaven smiles on your Design, and it shall prosper.
+You're going to fight the Enemies of God;
+Rebels and Traitors to the King of Kings;
+Nay, those who once betray'd and kill'd his Son,
+Who came to save you Indians from Damnation--
+He was an Indian, therefore they destroy'd him;
+He rose again and took his flight to Heaven;
+But when his Foes are slain he'll quick return;
+And be your kind Protector, Friend, and King.
+Be therefore brave and fight his Battles for him;
+Spare not his Enemies, where-e'r you find 'em:
+The more you murder them, the more you please him;
+Kill all you captivate, both old and young,
+Mothers and Children, let them feel your Tortures;
+He that shall kill a Briton, merits Heaven.
+And should you chance to fall, you'll be convey'd
+By flying Angels to your King that's there
+Where these your hated Foes can never come.
+Doubt you the Truth of this my Declaration?
+I have a Witness here that cannot lie. [_Pulling out a burning glass._
+This Glass was touch'd by your great Saviour's Hand,
+And after left in holy Peter's Care;
+When I command, it brings down Fire from Heaven,
+To witness for me that I tell no Lie.
+                                 [_The INDIANS gather round and gaze._
+Behold--Great God, send Fire, convince these Indian Kings
+That I'm thy Servant, and report the Truth,
+                 [_In a very praying posture and solemn canting tone._
+Am sent to teach them what they ought to do,
+To kill and scalp, to torture and torment
+Thy murderous treacherous Foes, the hateful English.
+        [_It takes fire; the INDIANS are amaz'd, and retreat from it._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Who now can doubt the Justice of our Cause,
+Or this Man's Mission from the King above,
+And that we ought to follow his Commands?
+
+ASTINACO.
+
+'Tis wonderful indeed--It must be so--
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This cannot be a Cheat--It is from Heaven--
+
+ALL.
+
+We are convinc'd and ready to obey;
+We are impatient to revenge our King.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+[_Takes up the bloody hatchet and flourishes it round._]
+
+Thus do I raise the Hatchet from the Ground,
+Sharpen'd and bright may it be stain'd with Blood,
+And never dull'd nor rusted till we've conquer'd,
+And taught proud Englishmen to dread its Edge.
+
+ALL.
+
+[_Flourishing their hatchets, and striking them upon a block._]
+
+Thus will we hew and carve their mangled Bodies,
+And give them to the Beasts and Birds for Food.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+And thus our Names and Honours will maintain
+While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Trees remain;
+Our unborn Children shall rejoice to hear
+How we their Fathers made the English fear.
+
+THE WAR SONG.
+
+_To the tune of "Over the Hills and far away," sung by TENESCO, the
+    head warrior. They all join in the Chorus, and dance, while that is
+    singing, in a circle round him; and during the Chorus the music
+    plays._
+
+    Where-e'r the Sun displays his Light,
+    Or Moon is seen to shine by Night,
+    Where-e'r the noisy Rivers flow
+    Or Trees and Grass and Herbage grow.--_Chorus._
+
+    Be 't known that we this War begin
+    With proud insulting Englishmen;
+    The Hatchet we have lifted high,     [_Holding up their hatchets._
+    And them we'll conquer or we'll die.--_Chorus._
+
+    The Edge is keen, the Blade is bright,
+    Nothing saves them but their Flight;
+    And then like Heroes we'll pursue,
+    Over the Hills and Valleys through.--_Chorus._
+
+    They'll like frighted Women quake,
+    When they behold a hissing Snake;
+    Or like timorous Deer away,
+    And leave both Goods and Arms a Prey.--_Chorus._
+
+    Pain'd with Hunger, Cold, or Heat,
+    In Haste they'll from our Land retreat;
+    While we'll employ our scalping Knives--
+                     [_Drawing and flourishing their scalping knives._
+    Take off their Skulls, and spare their Lives.--_Chorus._
+
+    Or in their Country they'll complain,
+    Nor ever dare return again;
+    Or if they should they'll rue the Day,
+    And curse the Guide that shew'd the Way.--_Chorus._
+
+    If Fortune smiles, we'll not be long
+    Ere we return with Dance and Song,
+    But ah! if we should chance to die,
+    Dear Wives and Children do not cry.--_Chorus._
+
+    Our Friends will ease your Grief and Woe,
+    By double Vengeance on the Foe;
+    Will kill, and scalp, and shed their Blood,
+    Where-e'r they find them thro' the Wood.--_Chorus._
+
+    No pointing Foe shall ever say
+    'Twas there the vanquish'd Indian lay;
+    Or boasting to his Friends relate
+    The Tale of our unhappy Fate.--_Chorus._
+
+    Let us with Courage then away
+    To hunt and seize the frighted Prey;
+    Nor think of Children, Friend, or Wife,
+    While there's an Englishman alive.--_Chorus._
+
+    In Heat and Cold, thro' Wet and Dry,
+    Will we pursue, and they shall fly
+    To Seas which they a Refuge think,
+    And there in wretched Crowds they'll sink.--_Chorus._
+                                              [_Exeunt omnes singing._
+
+_The End of the Third Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _The Border of a Grove._
+
+_Enter TENESCO to PHILIP and CHEKITAN._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Troops are all assembled, some have march'd,
+Perhaps are now engag'd, and warm in Battle;
+The rest have Orders where to bend their Course.
+Each Tribe is headed by a valiant Chief,
+Except the Bulls which fall to one of you;
+The other stays to serve the State at home,
+Or back us, should our Forces prove too weak.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+The Bulls are brave, had they a brave Commander,
+They'd push the Battle home with sure Success.
+I'd choose of all the Troops to be their Leader;
+For tho' I'd neither Courage, Skill, nor Strength,
+Honour attends the Man who heads the Brave;
+Many are dubb'd for Heroes in these Times,
+Who owe their Fame to those whom they commanded.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+But we shall ne'er suspect your Title false;
+Already you've confirm'd your Fame and Courage,
+And prov'd your Skill and Strength as a Commander.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Still I'll endeavour to deserve your Praise,
+Nor long delay the Honour you propose.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+But this will interfere with your Design,
+And oversets the Scheme of winning Hendrick.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Ah true--and kills your Hope--This Man 's in Love.      [_To TENESCO._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Indeed! In Love with whom? King Hendrick's Daughter?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+The same; and I've engag'd to win her Father.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This may induce him to espouse our Cause,
+Which likewise you engag'd should be effected.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+But then I can't command as was propos'd,
+I must resign that Honour to this Lover,
+While I conduct and form this double Treaty.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I am content if you but please yourselves
+By Means and Ways not hurtful to the Public.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Was not the Public serv'd, no private Ends
+Would tempt me to detain him from the Field,
+Or in his stead propose myself a Leader;
+But every Power I have shall be exerted:
+And if in Strength or Wisdom I should fail,
+I dare presume you'll ever find me faithful.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I doubt it not--You'll not delay your Charge;
+The Troops are all impatient for the Battle.
+                                         [_Exeunt TENESCO and PHILIP._
+
+CHEKITAN [_solus_].
+
+This is not to my Mind--But I must do it--
+If Philip heads the Troops, my Hopes are blown--
+I must prepare, and leave the Event to Fate
+And him--'Tis fix'd--There is no other Choice;
+Monelia I must leave, and think of Battles--
+She will be safe--But, Oh! the Chance of War--
+Perhaps I fall--and never see her more--
+This shocks my Soul in spite of Resolution--
+The bare Perhaps is more than Daggers to me--
+To part for ever! I'd rather stand against
+Embattled Troops than meet this single Thought;
+A Thought in Poison dipp'd and pointed round;
+Oh! how it pains my doubting trembling Heart!
+I must not harbour it--My Word is gone--
+My Honour calls--and, what is more, my Love.
+                        [_Noise of MONELIA striving behind the scene._
+What Sound is that?--It is Monelia's Voice;
+And in Distress--What Monster gives her Pain?
+          [_Going towards the sound, the Scene opens and discovers the
+           PRIEST with her._
+
+
+SCENE II. _MONELIA and PRIEST._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What do I see? The holy Priest is with her.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+[_Struggling with the PRIEST, and trying to disengage herself._]
+
+No, I would sooner die than be dishonour'd--
+Cut my own Throat, or drown me in the Lake.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+Do you love Indians better than us white Men?
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Nay, should an Indian make the foul Attempt,
+I'd murder him, or kill my wretched Self.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+I must I can, and will enjoy you now.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+You must! You sha'n't, you cruel, barbarous Christian.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Hold, thou mad Tyger--What Attempt is this?            [_Seizing him._
+Are you a Christian Priest? What do you here?           [_Pushes him._
+What was his Will, Monelia? He is dumb.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+May he be dumb and blind, and senseless quite,
+That had such brutal Baseness in his Mind.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Base false Deceiver, what could you intend?     [_Making towards him._
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Oh I am faint--You have preserv'd my Honour,
+Which he, foul Christian, thirsted to destroy.
+                                             [_PRIEST attempts to go._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Stay; leave your Life to expiate your Crime:
+Your heated Blood shall pay for your Presumption.
+                             [_Offering to strike him with a hatchet._
+
+PRIEST.
+
+Good Prince, forbear your pious Hand from Blood;
+I did not know you was this Maiden's Lover,
+I took her for a Stranger, half your Foe.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Did you not know she was King Hendrick's Daughter?
+Did you not know that she was not your Wife?
+Have you not told us, holy Men like you
+Are by the Gods forbid all fleshly Converse?
+Have you not told us, Death, and Fire, and Hell
+Await those who are incontinent,
+Or dare to violate the Rites of Wedlock?
+That your God's Mother liv'd and died a Virgin,
+And thereby set Example to her Sex?
+What means all this? Say you such Things to us,
+That you alone may revel in these Pleasures?
+
+PRIEST.
+
+I have a Dispensation from St. Peter
+To quench the Fire of Love when it grows painful.
+This makes it innocent like Marriage Vows;
+And all our holy Priests, and she herself,
+Commit no Sin in this Relief of Nature:
+For, being holy, there is no Pollution
+Communicated from us as from others;
+Nay, Maids are holy after we've enjoy'd them,
+And, should the Seed take Root, the Fruit is pure.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Oh vain Pretense! Falsehood and foul Deception!
+None but a Christian could devise such Lies!
+Did I not fear it might provoke your Gods,
+Your Tongue should never frame Deceit again.
+If there are Gods, and such as you have told us,
+They must abhor all Baseness and Deceit,
+And will not fail to punish Crimes like yours.
+To them I leave you--But avoid my Presence,
+Nor let me ever see your hated Head,
+Or hear your lying Tongue within this Country.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+Now by St. Peter I must go--He's raging.                     [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+That Day I do, by your great dreadful God,
+This Hand shall cleave your Head, and spill your Blood,
+Not all your Prayers, and Lies, and Saints shall save you.
+
+PRIEST.
+
+I've got his Father's Secret, and will use it.
+Such Disappointment ought to be reveng'd.                    [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Don't mutter here, and conjure up your Saints,
+I value not their Curses, or your Prayers.
+                          [_Stepping towards the PRIEST to hurry him._
+
+PRIEST.
+
+By all the Saints, young Man, thou shalt repent it.           [_Exit._
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Base, false Dissembler--Tyger, Snake, a Christian!
+I hate the Sight; I fear the very Name.
+O Prince, what has not your kind Presence sav'd me!
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+It sav'd to me more than my Father's Empire;
+Far more than Crowns and Worlds--It sav'd Monelia,
+The Hope of whom is more than the Creation.
+In this I feel the Triumph of an Hero,
+And glory more than if I'd conquer'd Kingdoms.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Oh, I am thine, I'm more than ever thine;
+I am your Captive now, your lawful Prize:
+You've taken me in War, a dreadful War!
+And snatch'd me from the hungry Tyger's Jaw.
+More than my Life and Service is your Due,
+And had I more I would devote it to you.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+O my Monelia! rich is my Reward,
+Had I lost Life itself in the Encounter;
+But still I fear that Fate will snatch you from me.
+Where is your Brother? Why was you alone?
+
+_Enter TORAX, from listening to their discourse._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Here am I: What would you of me?
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Torax!
+I've been assaulted by a barbarous Man,
+And by mere Accident escap'd my Ruin.
+
+TORAX.
+
+What Foe is here? The English are not come?
+
+MONELIA.
+
+No: But a Christian lurk'd within the Grove,
+And every Christian is a Foe to Virtue;
+Insidious, subtle, cruel, base, and false!
+Like Snakes, their very Eyes are full of Poison;
+And where they are not, Innocence is safe.
+
+TORAX.
+
+The holy Priest! Is he so vile a Man?
+I heard him mutter Threat'nings as I past him.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+I spar'd his guilty Life, but drove him hence,
+On Pain of Death and Tortures, never more
+To tread the Earth, or breathe the Air with me.
+Be warn'd by this to better tend your Charge.
+You see how Mischiefs lie conceal'd about us,
+We tread on Serpents ere we hear them hiss,
+And Tygers lurk to seize the incautious Prey.
+I must this Hour lead forth my Troops to Battle,
+They're now in Arms, and waiting my Command.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+What Safety shall I have when you are gone?
+I must not, cannot, will not longer tarry,
+Lest other Christians, or some other Foe,
+Attempt my Ruin.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Torax will be your Guard.
+My Honour suffers, should I now decline;
+It is my Country's Cause; I've pawn'd my Word,
+Prevented Philip, to make sure of you.
+He stays. 'Tis all in favour to our Love;
+We must at present please ourselves with Hopes.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Oh! my fond Heart no more conceals its Flame;
+I fear, my Prince, I fear our Fates are cruel:
+There's something whispers in my anxious Breast,
+That if you go, I ne'er shall see you more.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Oh! how her Words unman and melt my Soul!
+As if her Fears were Prophecies of Fate.                     [_Aside._
+I will not go and leave you thus in Fears;
+I'll frame Excuses--Philip shall command--
+I'll find some other Means to turn the King;
+I'll venture Honour, Fortune, Life, and Love,
+Rather than trust you from my Sight again.
+For what avails all that the World can give?
+If you're withheld, all other Gifts are Curses,
+And Fame and Fortune serve to make me wretched.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+Now you grow wild--You must not think of staying;
+Our only Hope, you know, depends on Philip.
+I will not fear, but hope for his Success,
+And your Return with Victory and Triumph,
+That Love and Honour both may crown our Joy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Now this is kind; I am myself again.
+You had unman'd and soften'd all my Soul,
+Disarm'd my Hand, and cowardiz'd my Heart:
+But now in every Vein I feel an Hero,
+Defy the thickest Tempest of the War:
+Yes, like a Lion conscious of his Strength,
+Fearless of Death I'll rush into the Battle;
+I'll fight, I'll conquer, triumph and return;
+Laurels I'll gain and lay them at your Feet.
+
+MONELIA.
+
+May the Success attend you that you wish!
+May our whole Scheme of Happiness succeed!
+May our next Meeting put an End to Fear,
+And Fortune shine upon us in full Blaze!
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+May Fate preserve you as her Darling Charge!
+May all the Gods and Goddesses, and Saints,
+If conscious of our Love, turn your Protectors!
+And the great thundering God with Lightning burn
+Him that but means to interrupt your Peace.                 [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III. _Indian Senate-House._
+
+_PONTEACH and PHILIP._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Say you that Torax then is fond of War?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+He is, and waits impatient my Return.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+'Tis friendly in you thus to help your Brother;
+But I suspect his Courage in the Field;
+A love-sick Boy makes but a cow'rdly Captain.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+His Love may spur him on with greater Courage;
+He thinks he's fighting for a double Prize;
+And but for this, and Hopes of greater Service
+In forwarding the Treaty with the Mohawk,
+I now had been in Arms and warm in Battle.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I much commend the Wisdom of your Stay.
+Prepare yourself, and hasten to his Quarters;
+You cannot make th' Attempt with too much Speed.
+Urge ev'ry Argument with Force upon him,
+Urge my strong Friendship, urge your Brother's Love,
+His Daughter's Happiness, the common Good;
+The general Sense of all the Indian Chiefs,
+The Baseness of our Foes, our Hope of Conquest;
+The Richness of the Plunder if we speed;
+That we'll divide and share it as he pleases;
+That our Success is certain if he joins us.
+Urge these, and what besides to you occurs;
+All cannot fail, I think, to change his Purpose.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+You'd think so more if you knew all my Plan.                 [_Aside._
+I'm all prepar'd now I've receiv'd your Orders,
+But first must speak t' his Children ere I part,
+I am to meet them in the further Grove.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Hark! there's a Shout--We've News of some Success;
+It is the Noise of Victory and Triumph.          [_Enter a MESSENGER._
+
+MESSENGER.
+
+Huzza! for our brave Warriors are return'd
+Loaded with Plunder and the Scalps of Christians.   [_Enter WARRIORS._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What have you done? Why all this Noise and Shouting?
+
+1ST WARRIOR.
+
+Three Forts are taken, all consum'd and plunder'd;
+The English in them all destroy'd by Fire,
+Except some few escap'd to die with Hunger.
+
+2ND WARRIOR.
+
+We've smok'd the Bear in spite of all his Craft,
+Burnt up their Den, and made them take the Field:
+The mighty Colonel Cockum and his Captain
+Have dull'd our Tomhocks; here are both their Scalps:
+                                        [_Holding out the two scalps._
+Their Heads are split, our Dogs have eat their Brains.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+If that be all they've eat, the Hounds will starve.
+
+3RD WARRIOR.
+
+These are the scalps of those two famous Cheats
+Who bought our Furs for Rum, and sold us Water.
+                      [_Holding out the scalps, which PONTEACH takes._
+Our Men are loaded with their Furs again,
+And other Plunder from the Villains' Stores.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+All this is brave!    [_Tossing up the scalps, which others catch, and
+                       toss and throw them about._
+This Way we'll serve them all.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+We'll cover all our Cabins with their Scalps.
+
+WARRIORS.
+
+We'll fat our Dogs upon their Brains and Blood.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Ere long we'll have their Governors in Play.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+And knock their grey-wig'd Scalps about this Way.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+The Game is started; Warriors, hunt away,
+Nor let them find a Place to shun your Hatchets.
+
+ALL WARRIORS.
+
+We will: We will soon shew you other Scalps.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Bring some alive; I long to see them dance
+In Fire and Flames, it us'd to make them caper.
+
+WARRIORS.
+
+Such Sport enough you'll have before we've done.            [_Exeunt._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+This still will help to move the Mohawk King.
+Spare not to make the most of our Success.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Trust me for that--Hark; there's another Shout;   [_Shouting without._
+A Shout for Prisoners--Now I have my Sport.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+It is indeed; and there's a Number too.
+
+_Enter WARRIORS._
+
+1ST WARRIOR.
+
+We've broke the Barrier, burnt their Magazines,
+Slew Hundreds of them, and pursu'd the rest
+Quite to their Settlements.
+
+2ND WARRIOR.
+
+There we took
+Their famous Hunters Honnyman and Orsbourn:
+The last is slain, this is his bloody Scalp.         [_Tossing it up._
+With them we found the Guns of our lost Hunters,
+And other Proofs that they're the Murderers;
+Nay, Honnyman confesses the base Deed,
+And, boasting, says, he's kill'd a Score of Indians.
+
+3RD WARRIOR.
+
+This is the bloody Hunter: This his Wife;
+                  [_Leading them forward, pinioned and tied together._
+With two young Brats that will be like their Father.
+We took them in their Nest, and spoil'd their Dreams.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Oh I could eat their Hearts, and drink their Blood,
+Were they not Poison, and unfit for Dogs.
+Here, you Blood-hunter, have you lost your Feeling?
+You Tygress Bitch! You Breeder up of Serpents!
+               [_Slapping HONNYMAN in the face, and kicking his wife._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Stop--We must first consult which way to torture.
+And whether all shall die--We will retire.
+
+PHILIP [_going_].
+
+Take care they don't escape.
+
+WARRIOR.
+
+They're bound secure.             [_Exeunt INDIANS; manent PRISONERS._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, Honnyman, how desperate is our Case!
+There's not a single Hope of Mercy left:
+How savage, cruel, bloody did they look!
+Rage and Revenge appear'd in every Face.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+You may depend upon 't, we all must die,
+I've made such Havoc, they'll have no Compassion;
+They only wait to study out new Torments:
+All that can be inflicted or endur'd,
+We may expect from their relentless Hands.
+Their brutal Eyes ne'er shed a pitying Tear;
+Their savage Hearts ne'er had a Thought of Mercy;
+Their Bosoms swell with Rancour and Revenge,
+And, Devil-like, delight in others' Plagues,
+Love Torments, Torture, Anguish, Fire, and Pain,
+The deep-fetch'd Groan, the melancholy Sigh,
+And all the Terrors and Distress of Death,
+These are their Music, and enhance their Joy.
+In Silence then submit yourself to Fate:
+Make no Complaint, nor ask for their Compassion;
+This will confound and half destroy their Mirth;
+Nay, this may put a stop to many Tortures,
+To which our Prayers and Tears and Plaints would move them.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, dreadful Scene! Support me, mighty God,
+To pass the Terrors of this dismal Hour,
+All dark with Horrors, Torments, Pains, and Death!
+Oh, let me not despair of thy kind Help;
+Give Courage to my wretched, groaning Heart!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Tush, Silence! You'll be overheard.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, my dear Husband! 'Tis an Hour for Prayer,
+An Infidel would pray in our Distress:
+An Atheist would believe there was some God
+To pity Pains and Miseries so great.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+If there's a God, he knows our secret Wishes;
+This Noise can be no Sacrifice to him;
+It opens all the Springs of our weak Passions.
+Besides, it will be Mirth to our Tormentors;
+They'll laugh, and call this Cowardice in Christians
+And say Religion makes us all mere Women.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+I will suppress my Grief in Silence then,
+And secretly implore the Aid of Heaven.
+Forbid to pray! Oh, dreadful Hour indeed!                  [_Pausing._
+Think you they will not spare our dear sweet Babes?
+Must these dear Innocents be put to Tortures,
+Or dash'd to Death, and share our wretched Fate?
+Must this dear Babe that hangs upon my Breast
+                                           [_Looking upon her infant._
+Be snatch'd by savage Hands and torn in Pieces!
+Oh, how it rends my Heart! It is too much!
+Tygers would kindly soothe a Grief like mine;
+Unconscious Rocks would melt, and flow in Tears
+At this last Anguish of a Mother's Soul.
+                                 [_Pauses, and views her child again._
+Sweet Innocent! It smiles at this Distress,
+And fondly draws this final Comfort from me:
+Dear Babe, no more: Dear Tommy too must die,
+                                        [_Looking at her other child._
+Oh, my sweet First-born! Oh, I'm overpower'd.              [_Pausing._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I had determin'd not to shed a Tear;                       [_Weeping._
+But you have all unman'd my Resolution;
+You've call'd up all the Father in my Soul;
+Why have you nam'd my Children? Oh, my Son!       [_Looking upon him._
+My only Son--My Image--Other Self!
+How have I doted on the charming Boy,
+And fondly plann'd his Happiness in Life!
+Now his Life ends: Oh, the Soul-bursting Thought!
+He falls a Victim for his Father's Folly.
+Had I not kill'd their Friends, they might have spar'd
+My Wife, my Children, and perhaps myself,
+And this sad, dreadful Scene had never happen'd.
+But 'tis too late that I perceive my Folly;
+If Heaven forgive, 'tis all I dare to hope for.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+What! have you been a Murderer indeed!
+And kill'd the Indians for Revenge and Plunder?
+I thought you rash to tempt their brutal Rage,
+But did not dream you guilty as you said.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+I am indeed. I murder'd many of them,
+And thought it not amiss, but now I fear.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+O shocking Thought! Why have you let me know
+Yourself thus guilty in the Eye of Heaven?
+That I and my dear Babes were by you brought
+To this Extreme of Wretchedness and Woe?
+Why have you let me know the solemn Weight
+Of horrid Guilt that lies upon us all?
+To have died innocent, and seen these Babes
+By savage Hands dash'd to immortal Rest,
+This had been light, for this implies no Crime:
+But now we die as guilty Murderers,
+Not savage Indians, but just Heaven's Vengeance
+Pursues our Lives with all these Pains and Tortures.
+This is a Thought that points the keenest Sorrow,
+And leaves no Room for Anguish to be heighten'd.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Upbraid me not, nor lay my Guilt to Heart;
+You and these Fruits of our past Morning Love
+Are innocent. I feel the Smart and Anguish,
+The Stings of Conscience, and my Soul on Fire.
+There's not a Hell more painful than my Bosom,
+Nor Torments for the Damn'd more keenly pointed.
+How could I think to murder was no Sin?
+Oh, my lost Neighbour! I seduc'd him too.
+Now death with all its Terrors disappears,
+And all I fear 's a dreadful Something-after;
+My Mind forebodes a horrid, woful Scene,
+Where Guilt is chain'd and tortur'd with Despair.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+The Mind oppress'd with Guilt may find Relief.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, could I reach the pitying Ear of Heaven,
+And all my Soul evaporate in Sound,
+'T would ask Forgiveness! but I fear too late;
+And next I'd ask that you and these dear Babes
+Might bear no Part in my just Punishment.
+Who knows but by pathetic Prayers and Tears
+Their savage Bosoms may relent towards you,
+And fix their Vengeance where just Heaven points it?
+I still will hope, and every Motive urge.
+Should I succeed, and melt their rocky Hearts,
+I'd take it as a Presage of my Pardon,
+And die with Comfort when I see you live.
+                                     [_Death halloo is heard without._
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Hark! they are coming--Hear that dreadful Halloo.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+It is Death's solemn Sentence to us all;
+They are resolv'd, and all Entreaty's vain.
+Oh horrid Scene! how shall I act my Part?
+Was it but simple Death to me alone!
+But all your Deaths are mine, and mine the Guilt.
+
+_Enter INDIANS with stakes, hatchets, and firebrands._
+
+Oh, horrid Preparation, more than Death!
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Plant down the Stakes, and let them be confin'd:
+                                   [_They loose them from each other._
+First kill the Tygers, then destroy their Whelps.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+This Brat is in our Way, I will dispatch it.
+                             [_Offering to snatch the sucking infant._
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+No, my dear Babe shall in my Bosom die;
+There is its Nourishment, and there its End.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Die both together then, 'twill mend the Sport;
+Tie the other to his Father, make a Pair;
+Then each will have a Consort in their Pains;
+Their sweet Brats with them, to increase the Dance.
+         [_They are tied down, facing each other upon their knees, and
+          their backs to the stakes._
+
+WARRIOR.
+
+All now is ready; they are bound secure.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Whene'er you please, their jovial Dance begins.        [_To PONTEACH._
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, my dear Husband! What a Sight is this!
+Could ever fabling Poet draw Distress
+To such Perfection! Sad Catastrophe!
+There are not Colours for such deep-dyed Woe,
+Nor words expressive of such heighten'd Anguish.
+Ourselves, our Babes, O cruel, cruel Fate!
+This, this is Death indeed with all its Terrors.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Is there no secret Pity in your Minds?
+Can you not feel some tender Passion move,
+When you behold the Innocent distress'd?
+True, I am guilty, and will bear your Tortures:
+Take your Revenge by all the Arts of Torment;
+Invent new Torments, lengthen out my Woe,
+And let me feel the keenest Edge of Pain:
+But spare this innocent afflicted Woman,
+Those smiling Babes who never yet thought Ill,
+They never did nor ever will offend you.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+It cannot be: They are akin to you.
+Well learnt to hunt and murder, kill and rob.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Who ever spar'd a Serpent in the Egg?
+Or left young Tygers quiet in their Den?
+
+WARRIOR.
+
+Or cherishes young Vipers in his Bosom?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Begin, begin; I'll lead the merry Dance.
+                            [_Offering at the woman with a firebrand._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Stop: Are we not unwise to kill this Woman?
+Or Sacrifice her Children to our Vengeance?
+They have not wrong'd us; can't do present Mischief.
+I know her Friends; they're rich and powerful,
+And in their Turn will take severe Revenge:
+But if we spare, they'll hold themselves oblig'd,
+And purchase their Redemption with rich Presents.
+Is not this better than an Hour's Diversion,
+To hear their Groans, and Plaints, and piteous Cries?
+
+WARRIORS.
+
+Your Counsel's wise, and much deserves our Praise;
+They shall be spar'd.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Untie, and take them hence;
+            [_They untie the woman and the oldest child from HONNYMAN,
+             and retire a little to consult his death._
+When the War ends her Friends shall pay us for it.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I'd rather have the Sport than all the Pay.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+O, now, kind Heaven, thou hast heard my Prayer,
+And what's to follow I can meet with Patience.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, my dear husband, could you too be freed!               [_Weeping._
+Yet must I stay and suffer Torments with you.
+This seeming Mercy is but Cruelty!
+I cannot leave you in this Scene of Woe,
+'Tis easier far to stay and die together!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Ah! but regard our Children's Preservation:
+Conduct their Youth, and form their Minds to Virtue;
+Nor let them know their Father's wretched End,
+Lest lawless Vengeance should betray them too.
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+If I must live, I must retire from hence,
+Nor see your fearful Agonies in Death;
+This would be more than all the Train of Torments.
+The horrid Sight would sink me to the Dust;
+These helpless Infants would become a Prey
+To worse than Beasts, to savage, bloody Men.
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Leave me--They are prepar'd, and coming on--
+Heav'n save you all! Oh, 'tis the last dear Sight!
+
+MRS. HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, may we meet where Fear and Grief are banish'd!
+Dearest of Men, adieu--Adieu till then.
+                                   [_Exit, weeping with her children._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Bring Fire and Knives, and Clubs, and Hatchets all;
+Let the old Hunter feel the Smart of Pain.
+       [_They fall upon HONNYMAN with various instruments of torture._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh! this is exquisite!                     [_Groaning and struggling._
+
+1ST WARRIOR.
+
+Hah! Does this make you dance?
+
+2ND WARRIOR.
+
+This is fine fat Game!
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Make him caper.              [_Striking him with a club, kicking, &c._
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+O ye eternal Powers, that rule on high,
+If in your Minds be Sense of human Woe,
+Hear my Complaints, and pity my Distress!
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Ah, call upon your Gods, you faint-heart Coward!
+
+HONNYMAN.
+
+Oh, dreadful Racks! When will this Torment end?
+Oh, for a Respite from all Sense of Pain!
+'Tis come--I go--You can--no more torment.                    [_Dies._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+He's dead; he'll hunt no more; h' 'as done with Game.
+                  [_Striking the dead body, and spitting in the face._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Drive hence his wretched Spirit, lest it plague us;
+Let him go hunt the Woods; he's now disarm'd.
+    [_They run round brushing the walls, &c., to dislodge the spirit._
+
+ALL.
+
+Out, Hunter, out, your Business here is done.
+Out to the Wilds, but do not take your Gun.
+
+PONTEACH [_to the Spirit_].
+
+Go, tell our Countrymen, whose Blood you shed,
+That the great Hunter Honnyman is dead:
+That we're alive, we'll make the English know,
+Whene'er they dare to serve us Indians so:
+This will be joyful News to Friends from France,
+We'll join the Chorus then, and have a Dance.
+             [_Exeunt omnes, dancing, and singing the last two lines._
+
+_End of the Fourth Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _The Border of a Grove, in which MONELIA and TORAX are
+asleep._
+
+_Enter PHILIP [speaking to himself]._
+
+As a dark Tempest brewing in the Air,
+For many Days hides Sun and Moon, and Stars,
+At length grown ripe, bursts forth and forms a Flood
+That frights both Men and Beasts, and drowns the Land;
+So my dark Purpose now must have its Birth,
+Long nourish'd in my Bosom, 'tis matur'd,
+And ready to astonish and embroil
+Kings and their Kingdoms, and decide their Fates.
+Are they not here? Have I delay'd too long?  [_He espies them asleep._
+Yes, in a Posture too beyond my Hopes,
+Asleep! This is the Providence of Fate,
+And proves she patronizes my Design,
+And I'll show her that Philip is no Coward.
+            [_Taking up his hatchet in one hand, and scalping knife in
+             the other, towards them._]
+A Moment now is more than Years to come:
+Intrepid as I am, the Work is shocking.      [_He retreats from them._
+Is it their Innocence that shakes my Purpose?
+No; I can tear the Suckling from the Breast,
+And drink their Blood who never knew a Crime.
+Is it because my Brother's Charmer dies?
+That cannot be, for that is my Revenge.
+Is it because Monelia is a Woman?
+I've long been blind and deaf to their Enchantments.
+Is it because I take them thus unguarded?
+No; though I act the Coward, it's a Secret.
+What is it shakes my firm and fix'd Resolve?
+'Tis childish Weakness: I'll not be unman'd.
+                                     [_Approaches and retreats again._
+There's something awful in the Face of Princes,
+And he that sheds their Blood, assaults the Gods:
+But I'm a Prince, and 'tis by me they die;
+                                          [_Advances arm'd as before._
+Each Hand contains the Fate of future Kings,
+And, were they Gods, I would not balk my Purpose.
+                                      [_Stabs MONELIA with the knife._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Hah! Philip, are you come? What can you mean?
+                                        [_TORAX starts and cries out._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Go learn my Meaning in the World of Spirits;
+                              [_Knocks him down with his hatchet, &c._
+'Tis now too late to make a Question of it.
+The Play is ended [_Looking upon the bodies_], now succeeds the Farce.
+Hullo! Help! Haste! the Enemy is here.
+                        [_Calling at one of the doors, and returning._
+Help is at Hand--But I must first be wounded:       [_Wounds himself._
+Now let the Gods themselves detect the Fraud.
+
+_Enter an INDIAN._
+
+INDIAN.
+
+What means your Cry? Is any Mischief here?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Behold this flowing Blood; a desperate Wound!    [_Shewing his wound._
+And there's a Deed that shakes the Root of Empires.
+                                            [_Pointing to the bodies._
+
+2ND INDIAN.
+
+Oh, fatal Sight! the Mohawk Prince is murder'd.
+
+3RD INDIAN.
+
+The Princess too is weltering in her Blood.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Both, both are gone; 'tis well that I escap'd.
+
+_Enter PONTEACH._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+What means this Outcry, Noise, and Tumult here?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Oh see, my Father! see the Blood of Princes,
+A Sight that might provoke the Gods to weep,
+And drown the Country in a Flood of Tears.
+Great was my Haste, but could not stop the Deed;
+I rush'd among their Numbers for Revenge,
+They frighted fled; there I receiv'd this Wound.
+                                     [_Shewing his wound to PONTEACH._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Who, what were they? or where did they escape?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+A Band of English Warriors, bloody Dogs!
+This Way they ran from my vindictive Arm,             [_Pointing, &c._
+Which but for this base Wound would sure have stopp'd them.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Pursue, pursue, with utmost Speed pursue,  [_To the WARRIORS present._
+Outfly the Wind till you revenge this Blood;
+'Tis royal Blood, we count it as our own. [_Exeunt WARRIORS in haste._
+This Scene is dark, and doubtful the Event;
+Some great Decree of Fate depends upon it,
+And mighty Good or Ill awaits Mankind.
+The Blood of Princes cannot flow in vain,
+The Gods must be in Council to permit it:
+It is the Harbinger of their Designs,
+To change, new-mould, and alter Things on Earth:
+And much I fear, 'tis ominous of Ill,
+To me and mine; it happen'd in my Kingdom.
+Their Father's Rage will swell into a Torrent--
+They were my Guests--His Wrath will centre here;
+Our guilty Land hath drunk his Children's Blood.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Had I not seen the flying Murderers,
+Myself been wounded to revenge their Crime,
+Had you not hasten'd to pursue the assassins,
+He might have thought us treacherous and false,
+Or wanting in our hospitable Care:
+But now it cannot but engage his Friendship,
+Rouse him to Arms, and with a Father's Rage
+He'll point his Vengeance where it ought to fall;
+And thus this Deed, though vile and dark as Night,
+In its Events will open Day upon us,
+And prove of great Advantage to our State.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Haste then; declare our Innocence and Grief;
+Tell the old King we mourn as for our own,
+And are determin'd to revenge his Wrongs;
+Assure him that our Enemies are his,
+And rouse him like a Tyger to the Prey.
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I will with Speed; but first this bleeding Wound
+Demands my Care, lest you lament me too.
+                                   [_Exit, to have his wound dress'd._
+
+PONTEACH [_solus_].
+
+Pale, breathless Youths! Your Dignity still lives:
+                                                [_Viewing the bodies._
+Your Murderers were blind, or they'd have trembled,
+Nor dar'd to wound such Majesty and Worth;
+It would have tam'd the savage running Bear,
+And made the raging Tyger fondly fawn;
+But your more savage Murderers were Christians.
+Oh, the distress'd good King! I feel for him,
+And wish to comfort his desponding Heart;
+But your last Rites require my present Care.                  [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II. _The Senate-House._
+
+_PONTEACH, TENESCO, and others._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Let all be worthy of the royal Dead;
+Spare no Expense to grace th' unhappy Scene,
+And aggrandize the solemn, gloomy Pomp
+With all our mournful, melancholy Rites.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+It shall be done; all Things are now preparing.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Never were Funeral Rites bestow'd more just;
+Who knew them living, must lament them dead;
+Who sees them dead, must wish to grace their Tombs
+With all the sad Respect of Grief and Tears.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Mourning is as general as the News;
+Grief sits on every Face, in every Eye,
+And gloomy Melancholy in Silence reigns:
+Nothing is heard but Sighs and sad Complaints,
+As if the First-born of the Realm were slain.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Thus would I have it; let no Eye be dry
+No Heart unmov'd, let every Bosom swell
+With Sighs and Groans. What Shouting do I hear?
+                        [_A shouting without, repeated several times._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+It is the Shout of Warriors from the Battle;
+The Sound of Victory and great Success.    [_He goes to listen to it._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Such is the State of Men and human Things;
+We weep, we smile, we mourn, and laugh thro' Life,
+Here falls a Blessing, there alights a Curse,
+As the good Genius or the evil reigns.
+It's right it should be so. Should either conquer,
+The World would cease, and Mankind be undone
+By constant Frowns or Flatteries from Fate;
+This constant Mixture makes the Potion safe,
+And keeps the sickly Mind of Man in Health.
+
+_Enter CHEKITAN._
+
+It is my Son. What has been your Success?
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+We've fought the Enemy, broke thro' their Ranks,
+Slain many on the Spot, pursu'd the rest
+Till Night conceal'd and sav'd them from our Arms.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+'Tis bravely done, and shall be duly honour'd
+With all the Signs and Marks of public Joy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What means this Gloom I see in every Face?
+These smother'd Groans and stifled half-drawn Sighs;
+Does it offend that I've return'd in Triumph?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I fear to name--And yet it must be known.                    [_Aside._
+Be not alarm'd, my Son, the Laws of Fate
+Must be obey'd: She will not hear our Dictates.
+I'm not a Stranger to your youthful Passion,
+And fear the Disappointment will confound you.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Has he not sped? Has ill befell my Brother?
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Yes, he is wounded but--Monelia's slain,
+And Torax both. Slain by the cowardly English,
+Who 'scap'd your Brother's wounded threat'ning Arm,
+But are pursued by such as will revenge it.--
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Oh wretched, wretched, wretched Chekitan!                    [_Aside._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+I know you're shock'd--The Scene has shock'd us all,
+And what we could, we've done to wipe the Stain
+From us, our Family, our Land and State;
+And now prepare due Honours for the Dead,
+With all the solemn Pomp of public Grief,
+To shew Respect as if they were our own.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Is this my Triumph after Victory?
+A solemn, dreadful pompous Shew:
+Why have I 'scap'd their Swords and liv'd to see it?         [_Aside._
+Monelia dead! aught else I could have borne:
+I'm stupefy'd: I can't believe it true;
+Shew me the Dead; I will believe my Eyes,
+But cannot mourn or drop a Tear till then.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I will conduct you to them--Follow me--
+                                       [_Exeunt TENESCO and CHEKITAN._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+This is a sad Reception from a Conquest,
+And puts an awful Gloom upon our Joy;
+I fear his Grief will overtop his Reason;
+A Lover weeps with more than common Pain.
+Nor flows his greatest Sorrow at his Eyes:
+His Grief is inward, and his Heart sheds Tears,
+And in his Soul he feels the pointed Woe,
+When he beholds the lovely Object lost.
+The deep-felt Wound admits no sudden Cure;
+The festering Humour will not be dispers'd,
+It gathers on the Mind, and Time alone,
+That buries all Things, puts an End to this.          [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+
+SCENE III. _The Grove, with the dead bodies; TENESCO pointing CHEKITAN
+to them._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+There lie the Bodies, Prince, a wretched Sight!
+Breathless and pale.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+A wretched Sight indeed;                        [_Going towards them._
+Oh, my Monelia; has thy Spirit fled?
+Art thou no more? a bloody, breathless Corpse!
+Am I return'd full flush'd with Hopes of Joy,
+With all the Honours Victory can give,
+To see thee thus? Is this, is this my Welcome?
+Is this our Wedding? Wilt thou not return?
+Oh, charming Princess, art thou gone for ever?
+Is this the fatal Period of our Love?
+Oh! had I never seen thy Beauty bloom,
+I had not now been griev'd to see it pale:
+Had I not known such Excellence had liv'd,
+I should not now be curs'd to see it dead:
+Had not my Heart been melted by thy Charms,
+It would not now have bled to see them lost.
+Oh, wherefore, wherefore, wherefore do I live:
+Monelia is not--What's the World to me?
+All dark and gloomy, horrid, waste, and void:
+The Light of the Creation is put out!--
+The Blessings of the Gods are all withdrawn!
+Nothing remains but Wretchedness and Woe;
+Monelia's gone; Monelia is no more.
+The Heavens are veil'd because she don't behold them:
+The Earth is curs'd, for it hath drunk her Blood;
+The Air is Poison, for she breathes no more:
+Why fell I not by the base Briton's Sword?
+Why press'd I not upon the fatal Point?
+Then had I never seen this worse than Death,
+But dying said, 'tis well--Monelia lives.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Comfort, my Prince, nor let your Passion swell
+To such a Torrent, it o'erwhelms your Reason,
+And preys upon the Vitals of your Soul.
+You do but feed the Viper by this View;
+Retire, and drive the Image from your Thought,
+And Time will soon replace your every Joy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+O my Tenesco, had you ever felt
+The gilded Sweets, or pointed Pains of Love,
+You'd not attempt to sooth a Grief like mine.
+Why did you point me to the painful Sight?
+Why have you shown this Shipwreck of my Hopes,
+And plac'd me in this beating Storm of Woe?
+Why was I told of my Monelia's Fate?
+Why wa'n't the wretched Ruin all conceal'd
+Under some fair Pretence--That she had fled--
+Was made a Captive, or had chang'd her Love--
+Why wa'n't I left to guess her wretched End?
+Or have some slender Hope that she still liv'd?
+You've all been cruel; she died to torment me;
+To raise my Pain, and blot out every Joy.--
+
+TENESCO.
+
+I fear'd as much: His Passion makes him wild--               [_Aside._
+I wish it may not end in perfect Frenzy.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Who were the Murderers? Where did they fly?
+Where was my Brother, not to take Revenge?
+Show me their Tracks, I'll trace them round the Globe;
+I'll fly like Lightning, ravage the whole Earth--
+Kill every thing I meet, or hear, or see.
+Depopulate the World of Men and Beasts,
+'Tis all too little for that single Death.
+                                      [_Pointing to MONELIA'S corpse._
+I'll tear the Earth that dar'd to drink her Blood;
+Kill Trees, and Plants, and every springing Flower:
+Nothing shall grow, nothing shall be alive,
+Nothing shall move; I'll try to stop the Sun,
+And make all dark and barren, dead and sad;
+From his tall Sphere down to the lowest Centre,
+There I'll descend, and hide my wretched Self,
+And reign sole Monarch in a World of Ruin.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This is deep Madness, it hath seiz'd his Brain.              [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+But first I'll snatch a parting last Embrace.
+                         [_He touches and goes to embrace the corpse._
+Thou dear cold Clay! forgive the daring Touch;
+It is thy Chekitan, thy wounded Lover.
+'Tis; and he hastens to revenge thy Death.
+                                [_TORAX groans and attempts to speak._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh, oh, I did not--Philip--Philip--Oh.             [_CHEKITAN starts._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What--did I not hear a Groan? and Philip call'd?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+It was, it was, and there is Motion too.
+                     [_Approaches TORAX, who groans and speaks again._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Philip--help. Oh! Oh!
+
+TENESCO.
+
+He is alive--We'll raise him from the Ground.
+                                [_They lift him up, and speak to him._
+Torax, are you alive? or are our Ears deceiv'd?
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh. Philip, do not--do not--be so cruel.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+He is bewilder'd, and not yet himself.
+Pour this into his Lips--it will revive him.
+                                           [_They give him something._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+This is a Joy unhop'd for in Distress.          [_TORAX revives more._
+
+TORAX.
+
+Oh! Philip, Philip!--Where is Philip gone?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The Murderers are pursued--He will go soon.
+And now can carry Tidings of your Life.
+
+TORAX.
+
+He carry Tidings! he's the Murderer.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+He is not murder'd; he was slightly wounded,
+And hastens now to see the King your Father.
+
+TORAX.
+
+He is false, a barbarous, bloody Man,
+A Murderer, a base disguis'd Assassin.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+He still is maz'd, and knows not whom he's with
+
+TORAX.
+
+Yes, you are Chekitan, and that's Monelia.  [_Pointing to the corpse._
+This is Tenesco--Philip stabb'd my Sister,
+And struck at me; here was the stunning Blow. [_Pointing to his head._
+He took us sleeping in this silent Grove;
+There by Appointment from himself we waited.
+I saw him draw the bloody Knife from her,
+And, starting, ask'd him, Why, or what he meant?
+He answered with the Hatchet on my Skull,
+And doubtless thought me dead and bound in Silence.
+I am myself, and what I say is Fact.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+The English 'twas beset you; Philip ran
+For your Assistance, and himself is wounded.
+
+TORAX.
+
+He may be wounded, but he wounded me;
+No Englishman was there, he was alone.
+I dare confront him with his Villainy:
+Depend upon 't, he's treacherous, false, and bloody.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+May we believe, or is this all a Dream?
+Are we awake? Is Torax yet alive?
+Or is it Juggling, Fascination all?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+'Tis most surprising! What to judge I know not.
+I'll lead him hence; perhaps he's still confus'd.
+
+TORAX.
+
+I gladly will go hence for some Relief,
+But shall not change, from what I've now aver'd.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Then this sad Storm of Ruin 's but begun.                    [_Aside._
+Philip must fly, or next it lights on him.
+                               [_Exeunt TENESCO and TORAX led by him._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+And can this be--Can Philip be so false?
+Dwells there such Baseness in a Brother's Heart?
+So much Dissimulation in the Earth?
+Is there such Perfidy among Mankind?
+It shocks my Faith--But yet it must be so--
+Yes, it was he, Monelia, shed thy Blood.
+This made him forward to commence our Friend,
+And with unusual Warmth engage to help us;
+It was for this so cheerful he resign'd
+To me the Honour of Command in War;
+The English Troops would never come so near;
+The Wounds were not inflicted by their Arms.
+All, all confirms the Guilt on Philip's Head.
+You died, Monelia, by my Brother's Hand;
+A Brother too intrusted with our Love.
+I'm stupify'd and senseless at the Thought;
+My Head, my very Heart is petrify'd.
+This adds a Mountain to my Weight of Woe.
+It now is swell'd too high to be lamented;
+Complaints, and Sighs, and Tears are thrown away,
+Revenge is all the Remedy that's left;
+But what Revenge is equal to the Crime?
+His Life for her's! An Atom for the Earth--
+A Single Fly--a Mite for the Creation:
+Turn where I will I find myself confounded:
+But I must seek and study out new Means.
+Help me, ye Powers of Vengeance! grant your Aid,
+Ye that delight in Blood, and Death, and Pain!
+Teach me the Arts of Cruelty and Wrath,
+Till I have Vengeance equal to my Love,
+And my Monelia's Shade is satisfied.                          [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+PHILIP [_solus_].
+
+His Grief no Doubt will rise into a Rage,
+To see his Charmer rolling in her Blood,
+I choose to see him not till my Return;
+By then the Fierceness of the Flame may cease;
+Nay, he'll grow cool, and quite forget his Love,
+When I report her Father's kindled Wrath,
+And all the Vengeance he intends to take.  [_CHEKITAN comes in sight._
+But this is he, I cannot now avoid him;
+How shall I soothe his Grief--He looks distracted--
+I'm such a Stranger grown to Tears and Pity,
+I fear he will not think I sympathize.
+
+_Enter CHEKITAN._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Have I then found thee, thou false hearted Traitor?
+Thou Tyger, Viper, Snake, thou worse than Christian;
+Bloodthirsty Butcher, more than Murderer!
+Thou every Thing but what Men ought to love!
+Do you still live to breathe and see the Sun?
+And face me with your savage guilty Eye?
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I fear'd, alas, you would run mad and rave.
+Why do you blame me that I am not dead?
+I risk'd my Life, was wounded for your Sake,
+Did all I could for your Monelia's Safety,
+And to revenge you on her Murderers.
+Your Grief distracts you, or you'd thank me for 't.
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Would you still tempt my Rage, and fire my Soul,
+Already bent to spill your treacherous Blood?
+You base Dissembler! know you are detected,
+Torax still lives, and has discover'd all.
+                                        [_PHILIP starts and trembles._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+Torax alive!--It cannot--must not be.                        [_Aside._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+Well may you shake--You cannot mend your Blow.
+He lived to see, what none but you could think of,
+The bloody Knife drawn from Monelia's Breast.
+Had you a thousand Lives, they'd be too few;
+Had you a Sea of Blood, 't would be too small
+To wash away your deep-dy'd Stain of Guilt.
+Now you shall die; and Oh, if there be Powers
+That after Death take Vengeance on such Crimes,
+May they pursue you with their Flames of Wrath,
+Till all their Magazines of Pain are spent.
+                                [_He attacks PHILIP with his hatchet._
+
+PHILIP.
+
+I must defend myself [_Drawing his hatchet_], the Case is desperate.
+                                              [_Fights; PHILIP falls._
+Fate is too hard; and I'm oblig'd to yield.
+'Twas well begun--but has a wretched End--
+Yet I'm reveng'd--She cannot live again.
+You cannot boast to 've shed more Blood than I--
+Oh, had I--had I--struck but one Blow more!                   [_Dies._
+
+CHEKITAN.
+
+What have I done! this is my Brother's Blood!
+A guilty Murderer's Blood! He was no Brother.
+All Nature's Laws and Ties are hence dissolv'd;
+There is no Kindred, Friendship, Faith, or Love
+Among Mankind--Monelia's dead--The World
+Is all unhing'd--There's universal War--
+She was the Tie, the Centre of the Whole;
+And she remov'd, all is one general Jar.
+Where next, Monelia, shall I bend my Arm
+To heal this Discord, this Disorder still,
+And bring the Chaos Universe to Form?
+Blood still must flow and float the scatter'd Limbs
+Till thy much injur'd love in Peace subsides.
+Then every jarring Discord once will cease,
+And a new World from these rude Ruins rise.                 [_Pauses._
+Here then I point the Edge, from hence shall flow
+                                   [_Pointing his knife to his heart._
+The raging crimson Flood, this is the Fountain
+Whose swift Day's Stream shall waft me to thy Arms,
+Lest Philip's Ghost should injure thy Repose.        [_Stabs himself._
+I come, I come--Monelia, now I come--
+Philip--away--She's mine in spite of Death.                   [_Dies._
+
+_Enter TENESCO._
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Oh! I'm too late, the fatal Work is done.
+Unhappy Princes; this your wretched End;
+Your Country's Hopes and your fond Father's Joy;
+Are you no more? Slain by each other's Hands,
+Or what is worse; or by the Air you breath'd?
+For all is Murder, Death, and Blood about us:
+Nothing safe; it is contagious all:
+The Earth, and Air, and Skies are full of Treason!
+The Evil Genius rules the Universe,
+And on Mankind rains Tempests of Destruction.
+Where will the Slaughter of the Species end?
+When it begins with Kings and with their Sons,
+A general Ruin threatens all below.
+How will the good King hear the sad Report?
+I fear th' Event; but as it can't be hid,
+I'll bear it to him in the softest Terms,
+And summon every Power to soothe his Grief,
+And slack the Torrent of his Royal Passion.                   [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE V. _Senate-House._
+
+PONTEACH [_solus_].
+
+The Torrent rises, and the Tempest blows;
+Where will this rough, rude Storm of Ruin end?
+What crimson Floods are yet to drench the Earth?
+What new-form'd Mischiefs hover in the Air,
+And point their Stings at this devoted Head?
+Has Fate exhausted all her Stores of Wrath,
+Or has she other Vengeance in reserve?
+What can she more? My Sons, my Name is gone;
+My Hopes all blasted, my Delights all fled;
+Nothing remains but an afflicted King,
+That might be pitied by Earth's greatest Wretch.
+My Friends; my Sons, ignobly, basely slain,
+Are more than murder'd, more than lost by Death.
+Had they died fighting in their Country's Cause,
+I should have smil'd and gloried in their Fall;
+Yes, boasting that I had such Sons to lose,
+I would have rode in Triumph o'er their Tombs.
+But thus to die, the Martyrs of their Folly,
+Involv'd in all the complicated Guilt
+Of Treason, Murder, Falsehood, and Deceit,
+Unbridled Passion, Cowardice, Revenge,
+And every Thing that can debase the Man,
+And render him the just Contempt of all,
+And fix the foulest Stain of Infamy,
+Beyond the Power of Time to blot it out;
+This is too much; and my griev'd Spirit sinks
+Beneath the Weight of such gigantic Woe.
+Ye that would see a piteous, wretched King,
+Look on a Father griev'd and curs'd like me;
+Look on a King whose Sons have died like mine!
+Then you'll confess that these are dangerous Names,
+And put it in the Power of Fate to curse us;
+It is on such she shews her highest Spite.
+But I'm too far--'Tis not a Time to grieve
+For private Losses, when the Public calls.
+
+_Enter TENESCO, looking sorrowful._
+
+What are your Tidings?--I have no more Sons.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+But you have Subjects, and regard their Safety.
+The treacherous Priest, intrusted with your Councils,
+Has publish'd all, and added his own Falsehoods;
+The Chiefs have all revolted from your Cause,
+Patch'd up a Peace, and lend their Help no more.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+And is this all? we must defend ourselves,
+Supply the Place of Numbers with our Courage,
+And learn to conquer with our very Looks:
+This is a Time that tries the Truth of Valour;
+He shows his Courage that dares stem the Storm,
+And live in spite of Violence and Fate.
+Shall holy Perfidy and seeming Lies
+Destroy our Purpose, sink us into Cowards?
+
+TENESCO.
+
+May your Hopes prosper! I'll excite the Troops
+By your Example still to keep the Field.                      [_Exit._
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+'Tis coming on. Thus Wave succeeds to Wave,
+Till the Storm's spent, then all subsides again--
+The Chiefs revolted:--My Design betray'd:--
+May he that trusts a Christian meet the same;
+They have no Faith, no Honesty, no God,
+And cannot merit Confidence from Men.
+Were I alone the boist'rous Tempest's Sport,
+I'd quickly move my shatter'd, trembling Bark,
+And follow my departed Sons to Rest.
+But my brave Countrymen, my Friends, my Subjects,
+Demand my Care: I'll not desert the Helm,
+Nor leave a dang'rous Station in Distress;
+Yes, I will live, in spite of Fate I'll live;
+Was I not Ponteach, was I not a King,
+Such Giant Mischiefs would not gather round me.
+And since I'm Ponteach, since I am a King,
+I'll shew myself Superior to them all;
+I'll rise above this Hurricane of Fate,
+And shew my Courage to the Gods themselves.
+
+_Enter TENESCO, surprised and pausing._
+
+I am prepar'd, be not afraid to tell;
+You cannot speak what Ponteach dare not hear.
+
+TENESCO.
+
+Our bravest Troops are slain, the rest pursu'd;
+All is Disorder, Tumult, and Rebellion.
+Those that remain insist on speedy Flight;
+You must attend them, or be left alone
+Unto the Fury of a conquering Foe,
+Nor will they long expect your Royal Pleasure.
+
+PONTEACH.
+
+Will they desert their King in such an Hour,
+When Pity might induce them to protect him?
+Kings like the Gods are valued and ador'd,
+When Men expect their Bounties in Return,
+Place them in Want, destroy the giving Power,
+All Sacrifices and Regards will cease.
+Go, tell my Friends that I'll attend their Call.
+                                              [_Rising. Exit TENESCO._
+I will not fear--but must obey my Stars:             [_Looking round._
+Ye fertile Fields and glad'ning Streams, adieu;
+Ye Fountains that have quench'd my scorching Thirst,
+Ye Shades that hid the Sun-beams from my Head,
+Ye Groves and Hills that yielded me the Chace,
+Ye flow'ry Meads, and Banks, and bending Trees,
+And thou proud Earth, made drunk with Royal Blood,
+I am no more your Owner and your King.
+But witness for me to your new base Lords,
+That my unconquer'd Mind defies them still;
+And though I fly, 'tis on the Wings of Hope.
+Yes, I will hence where there's no British Foe,
+And wait a Respite from this Storm of Woe;
+Beget more Sons, fresh Troops collect and arm,
+And other Schemes of future Greatness form;
+Britons may boast, the Gods may have their Will,
+Ponteach I am, and shall be Ponteach still.                   [_Exit._
+
+_Finis._
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ponteach, by Robert Rogers
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