SHARP.

We hope you have no Reason to complain That Englishmen conduct to you amiss; We're griev'd if they have given you Offence, And fain would heal the Wound while it is fresh, Lest it should spread, grow painful, and severe.

PONTEACH.

Your Men make Indians drunk, and then they cheat 'em.

Your Officers, your Colonels, and your Captains Are proud, morose, ill-natur'd, churlish Men, Treat us with Disrespect, Contempt, and Scorn.

I tell you plainly this will never do, We never thus were treated by the French, Them we thought bad enough, but think you worse.

SHARP.

There's good and bad, you know, in every Nation; There's some good Indians, some are the reverse, Whom you can't govern, and restrain from ill; So there's some Englishmen that will be bad.

You must not mind the Conduct of a few, Nor judge the rest by what you see of them.

PONTEACH.

If you've some good, why don't you send them here?

These every one are Rogues, and Knaves, and Fools, And think no more of Indians than of Dogs.

Your King had better send his good Men hither, And keep his bad ones in some other Country; Then you would find that Indians would do well, Be peaceable, and honest in their Trade; We'd love you, treat you, as our Friends and Brothers, And Raise the Hatchet only in your Cause.

SHARP.

Our King is very anxious for your Welfare, And greatly wishes for your Love and Friendship; He would not have the Hatchet ever raised, But buried deep, stamp'd down and cover'd o'er, As with a Mountain that can never move: For this he sent us to your distant Country, Bid us deliver you these friendly Belts, [_Holding out belts of wampum._ All cover'd over with his Love and Kindness.

He like a Father loves you as his Children; And like a Brother wishes you all Good; We'll let him know the Wounds that you complain of, And he'll be speedy to apply the Cure, And clear the Path to Friendship, Peace, and Trade.

PONTEACH.

Your King, I hear 's a good and upright Man, True to his word, and friendly in his Heart; Not proud and insolent, morose and sour, Like these his petty Officers and Servants: I want to see your King, and let him know What must be done to keep the Hatchet dull, And how the Path of Friendship, Peace, and Trade May be kept clean and solid as a Rock.

SHARP.

Our King is distant over the great Lake, But we can quickly send him your Requests; To which he'll listen with attentive Ear, And act as tho' you told him with your Tongue.

PONTEACH.

Let him know then his People here are Rogues, And cheat and wrong and use the Indians ill.

Tell him to send good Officers, and call These proud ill-natur'd Fellows from my Country, And keep his Hunters from my hunting Ground.

He must do this, and do it quickly too, Or he will find the Path between us b.l.o.o.d.y.

SHARP.

Of this we will acquaint our gracious King, And hope you and your Chiefs will now confirm A solid Peace as if our King was present; We're his Amba.s.sadors, and represent him, And bring these Tokens of his Royal Friendship To you, your Captains, Chiefs, and valiant Men.

Read, Mr. Catchum, you've the Inventory.

CATCHUM.

The British King, of his great Bounty, sends To Ponteach, King upon the Lakes, and his Chiefs, Two hundred, No [_Aside_] a Number of fine Blankets, Six hundred [_Aside_] Yes, and several Dozen Hatchets, Twenty thousand [_Aside_] and a Bag of Wampum, A Parcel too of Pans, and Knives, and Kettles.

SHARP.

This rich and royal Bounty you'll accept, And as you please distribute to your Chiefs, And let them know they come from England's King, As Tokens to them of his Love and Favour.

We've taken this long Journey at great Charge, To see and hold with you this friendly Talk; We hope your Minds are all disposed to Peace, And that you like our Sovereign's Bounty well.

1ST CHIEF.

We think it very small, we heard of more.

Most of our Chiefs and Warriors are not here, They all expect to share a Part with us.

2ND CHIEF.

These won't reach round to more than half our Tribes, Few of our Chiefs will have a single Token Of your King's Bounty, that you speak so much of.

3RD CHIEF.

And those who haven't will be dissatisfied, Think themselves slighted, think your King is stingy, Or else that you his Governors are Rogues, And keep your Master's Bounty for yourselves.

4TH CHIEF.

We hear such Tricks are sometimes play'd with Indians.

King Astenaco, the great Southern Chief, Who's been in England, and has seen your King, Told me that he was generous, kind, and true, But that his Officers were Rogues and Knaves, And cheated Indians out of what he gave.

GRIPE.

The Devil's in 't, I fear that we're detected. [_Aside._

PONTEACH.

Indians a'n't Fools, if White Men think us so; We see, we hear, we think as well as you; We know there 're Lies, and Mischiefs in the World; We don't know whom to trust, nor when to fear; Men are uncertain, changing as the Wind, Inconstant as the Waters of the Lakes, Some smooth and fair, and pleasant as the Sun, Some rough and boist'rous, like the Winter Storm; Some are Insidious as the subtle Snake, Some innocent, and harmless as the Dove; Some like the Tyger raging, cruel, fierce, Some like the Lamb, humble, submissive, mild, And scarcely one is every Day the same; But I call no Man bad, till such he's found, Then I condemn and cast him from my Sight; And no more trust him as a Friend and Brother.

I hope to find you honest Men and true.

SHARP.

Indeed you may depend upon our Honours, We're faithful Servants of the best of Kings; We scorn an Imposition on your Ignorance, Abhor the Arts of Falsehood and Deceit.

These are the Presents our great Monarch sent, He's of a bounteous, n.o.ble, princely Mind And had he known the Numbers of your Chiefs, Each would have largely shar'd his Royal Goodness; But these are rich and worthy your Acceptance, Few Kings on Earth can such as these bestow, For Goodness, Beauty, Excellence, and Worth.

PONTEACH.

The Presents from your Sovereign I accept, His friendly Belts to us shall be preserved, And in Return convey you those to him. [_Belts and furs._ Which let him know our Mind, and what we wish, That we dislike his crusty Officers, And wish the Path of Peace was made more plain, The Calumet I do not choose to smoke, Till I see further, and my other Chiefs Have been consulted. Tell your King from me, That first or last a Rogue will be detected, That I have Warriors, am myself a King, And will be honour'd and obey'd as such; Tell him my Subjects shall not be oppress'd, But I will seek Redress and take Revenge; Tell your King this; I have no more to say.

SHARP.

To our great King your Gifts we will convey, And let him know the Talk we've had with you; We're griev'd we cannot smoke the Pipe of Peace, And part with stronger Proofs of Love and Friendship; Meantime we hope you'll so consider Matters, As still to keep the Hatchet dull and buried, And open wide the shining Path of Peace, That you and we may walk without a Blunder. [_Exeunt INDIANS._

GRIPE.

Th' appear not fully satisfied, I think.

CATCHUM.