imits:
That he prefers the French, and will assist
To repossess them of this fertile Land.
By all the Saints, of this I'll make a Merit,
Declare myself to be the wise Projector;
This may advance me towards St. Peter's Chair,
And these blind Infidels by Accident
May have a Hand in making me a Pope--
But stop--Won't this defeat my other Purpose?
To gain the Mohawk Princess to my Wishes?
No--by the holy Virgin, I'll surprise her,
And have one hearty Revel in her Charms.
But now I'll hasten to this Indian Council;
I may do something there that's apropos. [_Exit._

SCENE III. _An Indian Senate-House._

_PONTEACH, TENESCO, PHILIP, ASTINACO, BEAR, WOLF, and French PRIEST._

PONTEACH.

Are all the Chiefs and Warriors here assembled,
That we expect to honour this Day's Council?

TENESCO.

All are conven'd except the Mohawk King,
Who, as we are inform'd, denies his Presence.

PHILIP.

I've half succeeded with the stubborn Chief.
He will not join in Council, but hath promised,
Till further Notice, not to be our Foe:
He'll see how we unite, and what Success
Attends our Arms; in short, he gives strong Hints
That he will soon befriend the common Cause.

PONTEACH.

Do what he will, 'tis this explains my Meaning;
[_Taking up the hatchet._
You all are well appris'd of my Design,
Which every passing Moment but confirms:
Nay, my Heart's pain'd while I withhold my Hand
From Blood and Vengeance on our hated Foes.
Tho' I should stand alone, I'll try my Power
To punish their Encroachments, Frauds, and Pride;
Yet tho' I die, it is my Country's Cause,
'Tis better thus to die than be despis'd;
Better to die than be a Slave to Cowards,
Better to die than see my Friends abus'd;
The Aged scorn'd, the Young despis'd and spurn'd.
Better to die than see my Country ruin'd,
Myself, my Sons, my Friends reduc'd to Famine,
Expell'd from hence to barren Rocks and Mountains,
To curse our wretched Fate and pine in Want;
Our pleasant Lakes and Fertile Lands usurp'd
By Strangers, Ravagers, rapacious Christians.
Who is it don't prefer a Death in War
To this impending Wretchedness and Shame?
Who is it loves his Country, Friends, or Self,
And does not feel Resentment in his Soul?
Who is it sees their growing Strength and Power,
And how we waste and fail by swift Degrees,
That does not think it Time to rouse and arm,
And kill the Serpent ere we feel it sting,
And fall