MRS. HONNYMAN.

Oh, may we meet where Fear and Grief are banish'd!

Dearest of Men, adieu--Adieu till then.

[_Exit, weeping with her children._

PHILIP.

Bring Fire and Knives, and Clubs, and Hatchets all; Let the old Hunter feel the Smart of Pain.

[_They fall upon HONNYMAN with various instruments of torture._

HONNYMAN.

Oh! this is exquisite! [_Groaning and struggling._

1ST WARRIOR.

Hah! Does this make you dance?

2ND WARRIOR.

This is fine fat Game!

PHILIP.

Make him caper. [_Striking him with a club, kicking, &c._

HONNYMAN.

O ye eternal Powers, that rule on high, If in your Minds be Sense of human Woe, Hear my Complaints, and pity my Distress!

PHILIP.

Ah, call upon your G.o.ds, you faint-heart Coward!

HONNYMAN.

Oh, dreadful Racks! When will this Torment end?

Oh, for a Respite from all Sense of Pain!

'Tis come--I go--You can--no more torment. [_Dies._

PHILIP.

He's dead; he'll hunt no more; h' 'as done with Game.

[_Striking the dead body, and spitting in the face._

PONTEACH.

Drive hence his wretched Spirit, lest it plague us; Let him go hunt the Woods; he's now disarm'd.

[_They run round brushing the walls, &c., to dislodge the spirit._

ALL.

Out, Hunter, out, your Business here is done.

Out to the Wilds, but do not take your Gun.

PONTEACH [_to the Spirit_].

Go, tell our Countrymen, whose Blood you shed, That the great Hunter Honnyman is dead: That we're alive, we'll make the English know, Whene'er they dare to serve us Indians so: This will be joyful News to Friends from France, We'll join the Chorus then, and have a Dance.

[_Exeunt omnes, dancing, and singing the last two lines._

_End of the Fourth Act._

ACT V.

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? [_He espies them asleep._ 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.

[_Taking up his hatchet in one hand, and scalping knife in the other, towards them._]

A Moment now is more than Years to come: Intrepid as I am, the Work is shocking. [_He retreats from them._ 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.

[_Approaches and retreats again._ There's something awful in the Face of Princes, And he that sheds their Blood, a.s.saults the G.o.ds: But I'm a Prince, and 'tis by me they die; [_Advances arm'd as before._ Each Hand contains the Fate of future Kings, And, were they G.o.ds, I would not balk my Purpose.

[_Stabs MONELIA with the knife._

TORAX.

Hah! Philip, are you come? What can you mean?

[_TORAX starts and cries out._

PHILIP.

Go learn my Meaning in the World of Spirits; [_Knocks him down with his hatchet, &c._ 'Tis now too late to make a Question of it.

The Play is ended [_Looking upon the bodies_], now succeeds the Farce.

Hullo! Help! Haste! the Enemy is here.

[_Calling at one of the doors, and returning._ Help is at Hand--But I must first be wounded: [_Wounds himself._ Now let the G.o.ds themselves detect the Fraud.