How shall we tarry midst the Noise of War, In Danger of our Lives from Friends and Foes; This will be deem'd a Madness by our Father, And will deserve his most severe Rebuke.

CHEKITAN.

Myself will be a Sponsor for your Safety; And should your Father baffle our Attempts, Conduct you home from all the Noise of War, Where may you long in Peace and Plenty smile, While I return to mourn my hapless Fate.

But should Success attend on Philip's Purpose.

Your Father will not discommend your Stay, But smiling give new Vigour to the War; Which being ended, and our Foes subdu'd, The happy Fruits of Peace succeed to all, But we shall taste the greater Sweets of Love.

TORAX.

The Purport of our Stay is hid from me; But Philip's subtle, crafty as the Fox.

We'll give full Scope to his enticing Art, And help him what we can to take the Prey.

MONELIA.

In your Protection then I trust myself, Nor will delay beyond th' appointed Term, Lest anxious Fears possess our Father's Heart, Or Mischiefs happen that incur his Anger.

TORAX.

It is agreed; we now pursue our Walk; Mean time consult what else may be of Use, You're pain'd with Love, and I'm in Pain for War. [_Exeunt._

CHEKITAN [_solus_].

The Game is sure--Her Brother's on my Side-- Her Brother and my own--My Force is strong-- But could her Father now be rous'd to War, How should I triumph and defy even Fate?

But Fortune favours all advent'rous Souls: I'll now to Philip; tell him my Success, And rouse up every Spark of Vigour in him: He will conceive fresh Hopes, and be more zealous.

SCENE II. _PONTEACH'S Cabin._

_PONTEACH, an Indian CONJURER, and French PRIEST._

PONTEACH.

Well! have you found the Secret of my Dream, By all your Cries, and Howls, and Sweats, and Prayers?

Or is the Meaning still conceal'd from Man, And only known to Genii and the G.o.ds?

CONJURER.

Two Hours I've lain within the sultry Stove, While Floods of Sweat ran trickling from my Skin; With Howls and Cries and all the Force of Sound Have I invok'd your Genius and my own, Smote on my Breast, and beat against my Head, To move an Answer, and the Secret learn.

But all in vain, no Answer can I have, Till I first learn what secret Purposes And great Designs are brooding in your Mind.

PRIEST.

At our pure Virgin's Shrine I've bowed my Knees, And there in fervent Prayer pour'd out my Soul; Call'd on Saint Peter, call'd on all the Saints That know the Secrets both of Heaven and Earth, And can reveal what G.o.ds themselves can do: I've us'd the Arts of our most holy Mother, Which I receiv'd when I forsook the World, And gave myself to Holiness and Heaven; But can't obtain the Secret of your Dream, Till I first know the Secrets of your Heart, Or what you hope or wish to be effected.

'Tis on these Terms we learn the Will of G.o.d, 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 G.o.ds are much alike-- And I suspect both Rogues--What! won't they tell!

Should they betray my Scheme, the whole is blown.

And yet I fain would know. I'll charge them first.

Look here; if I disclose a Secret to you, Tell it to none but silent honest G.o.ds; Death to you both, if you reveal to Men.

BOTH.

We will, we will, the G.o.ds alone shall know.

PONTEACH.

Know then that I have fix'd on speedy War, To drive these new Encroachers from my Country.

For this I meant t' engage our several Tribes, And when our Foes are driven to their Bounds, That we may stand and hold our Rights secure, Unite our Strength under one common Head, Whom all these Petty Kings must own their Lord, Not even Hendrick's self shall be excused.

This is my Purpose. Learn if it shall prosper, Or will it end in Infamy and Shame?

CONJURER.

[_Smiting on his breast, groaning, and muttering in his cloak or blanket, falls down upon the ground, beats his head against it, and pretends to listen: then rises, and says with a rumbling hideous voice:_]

Success and Victory shall attend your Arms; You are the mighty Elk that none can conquer, And all the Tribes shall own you for their King.

Thus, say the Genii, does your Dream intend.

PRIEST.

[_Looking up to Heaven in a praying posture for a small s.p.a.ce, says:_]

Had I but known you was resolv'd on War, And War against those Heretics the English, I need not to have ask'd a G.o.d or Saint To signify the Import of your Dream.

Your great Design shall have a prosperous End, 'Tis by the G.o.ds approv'd, and must succeed.

Angels and Saints are dancing now in Heaven: Your Enemies are theirs, are hated by them, And they'll protect and help you as their Champion, [_Aside._ That fights their Battles, and defends their Cause.

Our great St. Peter is himself a Warrior; He drew his Sword against such Infidels, And now, like him, you'll gain immortal Honour, And G.o.ds in Heaven and Saints on Earth will praise you.

PONTEACH.

The G.o.ds and Genii do as you have said.

I'll to the Chiefs, and hasten them to Arms.

[_Exeunt PONTEACH and CONJURER._

PRIEST [_solus_].

This, by St. Peter, goes as I would have it.

The Conjurer agreed with me to pump him, Or else deny to solve his dubious Vision: But, that we've so agreed in our Responses, Is all mere Providence, and rul'd by Heaven, To give us further Credit with this Indian.

Now he is fix'd--will wage immediate War-- This will be joyful News in France and Rome, That Ponteach is in Arms, and won't allow The English to possess their new-gain'd Empire: That he has slain their Troops, destroy'd their Forts, Expell'd them from the Lakes to their old Limits: That he prefers the French, and will a.s.sist To repossess them of this fertile Land.

By all the Saints, of this I'll make a Merit, Declare myself to be the wise Projector; This may advance me towards St. Peter's Chair, And these blind Infidels by Accident May have a Hand in making me a Pope-- But stop--Won't this defeat my other Purpose?

To gain the Mohawk Princess to my Wishes?

No--by the holy Virgin, I'll surprise her, And have one hearty Revel in her Charms.

But now I'll hasten to this Indian Council; I may do something there that's apropos. [_Exit._

SCENE III. _An Indian Senate-House._

_PONTEACH, TENESCO, PHILIP, ASTINACO, BEAR, WOLF, and French PRIEST._