  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? [Heespiesthemasleep. 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. [Takinguphishatchetinonehand,andscalpingknifein theother,towardsthem.] A Moment now is more than Years to come:Intrepid as I am, the Work is shocking. [Heretreatsfromthem. 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. [Approachesandretreatsagain. 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; [Advancesarm'dasbefore. Each Hand contains the Fate of future Kings,And, were they Gods, I would not balk my Purpose. [StabsMoneliawiththeknife. Torax. Hah! Philip, are you come? What can you mean? [Toraxstartsandcriesout. Philip. Go learn my Meaning in the World of Spirits; [Knockshimdownwithhishatchet,&c. 'Tis now too late to make a Question of it.The Play is ended [Looking upon the bodies], now succeeds the Farce. [Callingatoneofthedoors,andreturning. Help is at Hand—But I must first be wounded:[Woundshimself. 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! [Shewinghiswound. And there's a Deed that shakes the Root of Empires.[Pointingtothebodies. 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. [ShewinghiswoundtoPonteach. Ponteach. Who, what were they? or where did they escape? Philip. A Band of English Warriors, bloody Dogs! [Pointing,&c. Which but for this base Wound would sure have stopp'd them.Ponteach. Pursue, pursue, with utmost Speed pursue, [TotheWarriorspresent. Outfly the Wind till you revenge this Blood;'Tis royal Blood, we count it as our own. [ExeuntWarriorsinhaste. 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,tohavehiswounddress'd. Ponteach [solus]. Pale, breathless Youths! Your Dignity still lives: [Viewingthebodies. 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? [Ashoutingwithout,repeatedseveraltimes. Tenesco. It is the Shout of Warriors from the Battle; The Sound of Victory and great Success. [Hegoestolistentoit. 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 FateMust be obey'd: She will not hear our Dictates. 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— [ExeuntTenescoandChekitan. 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, 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. [Exeuntomnes. 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; [Goingtowardsthem. 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? 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. [PointingtoMonelia'scorpse. 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. [Hetouchesandgoestoembracethecorpse. Thou dear cold Clay! forgive the daring Touch;It is thy Chekitan, thy wounded Lover. 'Tis; and he hastens to revenge thy Death. [Toraxgroansandattemptstospeak. Torax. Oh, oh, I did not—Philip—Philip—Oh. [Chekitanstarts. Chekitan. What—did I not hear a Groan? and Philip call'd? Tenesco. It was, it was, and there is Motion too. [ApproachesTorax,whogroansandspeaksagain. Torax. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Philip—help. Oh! Oh! Tenesco. He is alive—We'll raise him from the Ground. [Theylifthimup,andspeaktohim. Torax, are you alive? or are our Ears deceiv'd?Torax. Oh. Philip, do not—do not—be so cruel. Chekitan. Tenesco. This is a Joy unhop'd for in Distress. [Toraxrevivesmore. 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. [Pointingtothecorpse. This is Tenesco—Philip stabb'd my Sister,And struck at me; here was the stunning Blow. [Pointingtohishead. 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.[ExeuntTenescoandToraxledbyhim. 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. 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. [Chekitancomesinsight. 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. [Philipstartsandtrembles. 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. [HeattacksPhilipwithhishatchet. Philip. I must defend myself [Drawing his hatchet], the Case is desperate. [Fights;Philipfalls. 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. 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[Pointinghisknifetohisheart. The raging crimson Flood, this is the FountainWhose swift Day's Stream shall waft me to thy Arms, Lest Philip's Ghost should injure thy Repose. [Stabshimself. 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.ExitTenesco. I will not fear—but must obey my Stars:[Lookinground. 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. |
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