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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 b.i.t.c.h! 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, b.l.o.o.d.y did they look!