PONTEACH.

What then? If Indians are such Fools, I think White Men like you should stop and teach them better.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

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.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

You may be d----d, and all your Frenchmen too.

PONTEACH.

Be d----d! what's that? I do not understand.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

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.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

Forbear your Impudence, you curs'd old Thief; This Moment leave my Fort, and to your Country.

Let me hear no more of your h.e.l.lish 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. [_Exeunt INDIANS._

FRISK.

Vile Infidels! observe their Insolence; Old Ponteach puts on a mighty Air.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

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, But, Heav'n be thank'd, we're safe within these Walls: Besides, I think the Governors are coming, To make them Presents, and establish Peace.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

That may perhaps appease their b.l.o.o.d.y Minds, And keep them quiet for some little Term.

G.o.d 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.

c.o.c.k.u.m.

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.