  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, 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, 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. [Shewinghowtoslipthescales. 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. [Weighingthepacks. 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. [ExeuntIndianstoreceivetheirrum. 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. [Clappinghisshoulder. 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 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. [Theyshoot,andruntorifletheIndians. They're down, old Boy, a Brace of noble Bucks!Orsbourn. Well tallow'd, faith, and noble Hides upon 'em. [Takingupapack. 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— [Theycoverthem. 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— [Drawinghisknife. I'll strip this Fellow's painted greasy Skull.[Stripsoffthescalp. Honnyman. A damn'd tough Hide, or my Knife's devilish dull— [Takestheotherscalp. 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. 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. [ExeuntIndians. 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, 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. Things may be given that won't do to sell. [Theyoverhaulthegoods,&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. [Pullingoutaninventoryofthewholegoods. 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, 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; 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, [Holdingoutbeltsofwampum. 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. 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, 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; 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. [Beltsandfurs. 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. [ExeuntIndians. 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.
The End of the First Act. |
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