d than done-- [_Drawing his knife._
I'll strip this Fellow's painted greasy Skull.
[_Strips off the scalp._

HONNYMAN.

A damn'd tough Hide, or my Knife's devilish dull--
[_Takes the other scalp._
Now let them sleep to-night without their Caps,
And pleasant Dreams attend their long Repose.

ORSBOURN.

Their Guns and Hatchets now are lawful Prize,
For they'll not need them on their present Journey.

HONNYMAN.

The Devil hates Arms, and dreads the Smell of Powder;
He'll not allow such Instruments about him,
They're free from training now, they're in his Clutches.

ORSBOURN.

But, Honnyman, d'ye think this is not Murder?
I vow I'm shock'd a little to see them scalp'd,
And fear their Ghosts will haunt us in the Dark.

HONNYMAN.

It's no more Murder than to crack a Louse,
That is, if you've the Wit to keep it private.
And as to Haunting, Indians have no Ghosts,
But as they live like Beasts, like Beasts they die.
I've kill'd a Dozen in this self-same Way,
And never yet was troubled with their Spirits.

ORSBOURN.

Then I'm content; my Scruples are remov'd.
And what I've done, my Conscience justifies.
But we must have these Guns and Hatchets alter'd,
Or they'll detect th' Affair, and hang us both.

HONNYMAN.

That's quickly done--Let us with Speed return,
And think no more of being hang'd or haunted;
But turn our Fur to Gold, our Gold to Wine,
Thus gaily spend what we've so slily won,
And bless the first Inventor of a Gun. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III. _An English Fort._

_Enter Colonel COCKUM and Captain FRISK._

COCKUM.

What shall we do with these damn'd bawling Indians?
They're swarming every Day with their Complaints
Of Wrongs and Injuries, and God knows what--
I wish the Devil would take them to himself.

FRISK.

Your Honour's right to wish the Devil his Due.
I'd send the noisy Hellhounds packing hence,
Nor spend a Moment in debating with them.
The more you give Attention to their Murmurs,
The more they'll plague and haunt you every Day,
Besides, their old King Ponteach grows damn'd saucy,
Talks of his Power, and threatens what he'll do.
Perdition to their faithless sooty Souls,
I'd let 'em know at once to keep their Distance.

COCKUM.

Captain, You're right; their Insolence is such
As beats my Patience; cursed Miscreants!
They are encroaching; fain would be familiar:
I'll