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.