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,
380
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;
385
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.83
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’ve84 sought, approach this way—
5
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,
10
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?
15
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,
20
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.85
25
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,
30
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.
35
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.
40
Monelia. The Earth itself is sometimes known to shake,86
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,
45
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,
This one may be a Cheat, the other change,
50
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,
55
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;
60
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,
65
Witness ye purling Streams and quivering Lakes,
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,
70
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,87
A lac’d Coat Captain,88 warlike, active, gay,
75
Cockaded Hat89 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,
80
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,
85
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,
90
Half gave Consent, meaning to be his Bride.
The Moment thus unguarded, he embrac’d,
And impudently ask’d to stain my Virtue.90
With just Disdain I push’d him from my Arms,
And let him know he’d kindled by Resentment;
95
The Scene was chang’d from Sunshine to a Storm,
O! 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
100
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?
105
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,91 polite good Breeding,92
To say Ten thousand things they don’t intend,
110
And tell their nearest Friends the basest Falsehoods?
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
,
115
An honest Heart needs none of this Parade;
Its Sense steals softly to the listning 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.
120
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,
125
’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.
130
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,93
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.
135
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.
140
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.94
Torax. Nothing would please me better; I love War,
And think it time to curb the English Pride,
145
And give a check to their increasing Power.
The Land is ravag’d by their numberous Bands,
And every Day they’re growing more our Lords,95
Chekitan. Are you sincere, or do you feign this Speech?
Torax. Indeed my Tongue does not bely my Heart;
150
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,
155
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 doubt96 he’ll not. The good old Man esteems
And dotes upon them as most worthy Friends;
160
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, shew Respect to Age,
Nor sow Sedition in my Father’s Empire.
165
Chekitan. Stiff as he is, he may yet 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,
170
Ere twice the Sun hath 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
175
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;
180
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,
185
Where you may 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;
190
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,97
195
We’ll give full Scope to his inticing 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,
200
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—
205
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:98
I’ll now to Philip; tell him my Success,
210
And rouse up every Spark of Vigour in him:
He will conceive fresh Hopes, and be more zealous.
SCENE II.
Ponteach’s Cabbin.
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,99
5
While Floods of Sweat run 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.
10
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 bow’d my Knees,
And there in fervent Prayer pour’d out my Soul;
15
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,
20
And gave myself to Holiness and Heaven;
But can’t obtain the Secret of your Dream,
Till first I 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,
25
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—100
/>
And I suspect both Rogues—What! wont101 they tell!
30
Should they betray my Scheme, the whole is blown.
And yet I fain would know. I charge them first.
[aside.
Look here; if I disclose a Secret to you,
Tell it none but silent honest Gods;
Death to you both, if you reveal to Men,
35
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,
40
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,
45
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.
50
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 Hereticks the English,
I need not have ask’d a God or Saint
To signify the Import of your Dream.
Your great Design shall have a prosperous End,
55
’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,
That fights their Battles, and defends their Cause.
60
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.
65
I’ll to the Chiefs, and hasten them to Arms.
[Exeunt Pont. & Conj.
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,
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Ponteach, or the Savages of America Page 12