It was, it was, and there is Motion too.[ApproachesTorax, who groans and speaks again.
It was, it was, and there is Motion too.[ApproachesTorax, who groans and speaks again.
[ApproachesTorax, who groans and speaks again.
Torax.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Philip—help. Oh! Oh!
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Philip—help. Oh! Oh!
Tenesco.
He is alive—We'll raise him from the Ground.[They lift him up, and speak to him.Torax, are you alive? or are our Ears deceiv'd?
He is alive—We'll raise him from the Ground.[They lift him up, and speak to him.Torax, are you alive? or are our Ears deceiv'd?
[They lift him up, and speak to him.
Torax.
Oh. Philip, do not—do not—be so cruel.
Oh. Philip, do not—do not—be so cruel.
Chekitan.
He is bewilder'd, and not yet himself.Pour this into his Lips—it will revive him.[They give him something.
He is bewilder'd, and not yet himself.Pour this into his Lips—it will revive him.[They give him something.
[They give him something.
Tenesco.
This is a Joy unhop'd for in Distress.[Toraxrevives more.
This is a Joy unhop'd for in Distress.[Toraxrevives more.
[Toraxrevives more.
Torax.
Oh! Philip, Philip!—Where is Philip gone?
Oh! Philip, Philip!—Where is Philip gone?
Tenesco.
The Murderers are pursued—He will go soon.And now can carry Tidings of your Life.
The Murderers are pursued—He will go soon.And now can carry Tidings of your Life.
Torax.
He carry Tidings! he's the Murderer.
He carry Tidings! he's the Murderer.
Tenesco.
He is not murder'd; he was slightly wounded,And hastens now to see the King your Father.
He is not murder'd; he was slightly wounded,And hastens now to see the King your Father.
Torax.
He is false, a barbarous, bloody Man,A Murderer, a base disguis'd Assassin.
He is false, a barbarous, bloody Man,A Murderer, a base disguis'd Assassin.
Chekitan.
He still is maz'd, and knows not whom he's with
He still is maz'd, and knows not whom he's with
Torax.
Yes, you are Chekitan, and that's Monelia.[Pointing to the corpse.This is Tenesco—Philip stabb'd my Sister,And struck at me; here was the stunning Blow.[Pointing to his head.He took us sleeping in this silent Grove;There by Appointment from himself we waited.I saw him draw the bloody Knife from her,And, starting, ask'd him, Why, or what he meant?He answered with the Hatchet on my Skull,And doubtless thought me dead and bound in Silence.I am myself, and what I say is Fact.
Yes, you are Chekitan, and that's Monelia.[Pointing to the corpse.This is Tenesco—Philip stabb'd my Sister,And struck at me; here was the stunning Blow.[Pointing to his head.He took us sleeping in this silent Grove;There by Appointment from himself we waited.I saw him draw the bloody Knife from her,And, starting, ask'd him, Why, or what he meant?He answered with the Hatchet on my Skull,And doubtless thought me dead and bound in Silence.I am myself, and what I say is Fact.
[Pointing to the corpse.
[Pointing to his head.
Tenesco.
The English 'twas beset you; Philip ranFor your Assistance, and himself is wounded.
The English 'twas beset you; Philip ranFor your Assistance, and himself is wounded.
Torax.
He may be wounded, but he wounded me;No Englishman was there, he was alone.I dare confront him with his Villainy:Depend upon 't, he's treacherous, false, and bloody.
He may be wounded, but he wounded me;No Englishman was there, he was alone.I dare confront him with his Villainy:Depend upon 't, he's treacherous, false, and bloody.
Chekitan.
May we believe, or is this all a Dream?Are we awake? Is Torax yet alive?Or is it Juggling, Fascination all?
May we believe, or is this all a Dream?Are we awake? Is Torax yet alive?Or is it Juggling, Fascination all?
Tenesco.
'Tis most surprising! What to judge I know not.I'll lead him hence; perhaps he's still confus'd.
'Tis most surprising! What to judge I know not.I'll lead him hence; perhaps he's still confus'd.
Torax.
I gladly will go hence for some Relief,But shall not change, from what I've now aver'd.
I gladly will go hence for some Relief,But shall not change, from what I've now aver'd.
Tenesco.
Then this sad Storm of Ruin 's but begun.[Aside.Philip must fly, or next it lights on him.[ExeuntTenescoandToraxled by him.
Then this sad Storm of Ruin 's but begun.[Aside.Philip must fly, or next it lights on him.[ExeuntTenescoandToraxled by him.
[Aside.
[ExeuntTenescoandToraxled by him.
Chekitan.
And can this be—Can Philip be so false?Dwells there such Baseness in a Brother's Heart?So much Dissimulation in the Earth?Is there such Perfidy among Mankind?It shocks my Faith—But yet it must be so—Yes, it was he, Monelia, shed thy Blood.This made him forward to commence our Friend,And with unusual Warmth engage to help us;It was for this so cheerful he resign'dTo me the Honour of Command in War;The English Troops would never come so near;The Wounds were not inflicted by their Arms.All, all confirms the Guilt on Philip's Head.You died, Monelia, by my Brother's Hand;A Brother too intrusted with our Love.I'm stupify'd and senseless at the Thought;My Head, my very Heart is petrify'd.This adds a Mountain to my Weight of Woe.It now is swell'd too high to be lamented;Complaints, and Sighs, and Tears are thrown away,Revenge is all the Remedy that's left;But what Revenge is equal to the Crime?His Life for her's! An Atom for the Earth—A Single Fly—a Mite for the Creation:Turn where I will I find myself confounded:But I must seek and study out new Means.Help me, ye Powers of Vengeance! grant your Aid,Ye that delight in Blood, and Death, and Pain!Teach me the Arts of Cruelty and Wrath,Till I have Vengeance equal to my Love,And my Monelia's Shade is satisfied.[Exit.
And can this be—Can Philip be so false?Dwells there such Baseness in a Brother's Heart?So much Dissimulation in the Earth?Is there such Perfidy among Mankind?It shocks my Faith—But yet it must be so—Yes, it was he, Monelia, shed thy Blood.This made him forward to commence our Friend,And with unusual Warmth engage to help us;It was for this so cheerful he resign'dTo me the Honour of Command in War;The English Troops would never come so near;The Wounds were not inflicted by their Arms.All, all confirms the Guilt on Philip's Head.You died, Monelia, by my Brother's Hand;A Brother too intrusted with our Love.I'm stupify'd and senseless at the Thought;My Head, my very Heart is petrify'd.This adds a Mountain to my Weight of Woe.It now is swell'd too high to be lamented;Complaints, and Sighs, and Tears are thrown away,Revenge is all the Remedy that's left;But what Revenge is equal to the Crime?His Life for her's! An Atom for the Earth—A Single Fly—a Mite for the Creation:Turn where I will I find myself confounded:But I must seek and study out new Means.Help me, ye Powers of Vengeance! grant your Aid,Ye that delight in Blood, and Death, and Pain!Teach me the Arts of Cruelty and Wrath,Till I have Vengeance equal to my Love,And my Monelia's Shade is satisfied.[Exit.
[Exit.
Scene IV.
Philip[solus].
His Grief no Doubt will rise into a Rage,To see his Charmer rolling in her Blood,I choose to see him not till my Return;By then the Fierceness of the Flame may cease;Nay, he'll grow cool, and quite forget his Love,When I report her Father's kindled Wrath,And all the Vengeance he intends to take.[Chekitancomes in sight.But this is he, I cannot now avoid him;How shall I soothe his Grief—He looks distracted—I'm such a Stranger grown to Tears and Pity,I fear he will not think I sympathize.
His Grief no Doubt will rise into a Rage,To see his Charmer rolling in her Blood,I choose to see him not till my Return;By then the Fierceness of the Flame may cease;Nay, he'll grow cool, and quite forget his Love,When I report her Father's kindled Wrath,And all the Vengeance he intends to take.[Chekitancomes in sight.But this is he, I cannot now avoid him;How shall I soothe his Grief—He looks distracted—I'm such a Stranger grown to Tears and Pity,I fear he will not think I sympathize.
[Chekitancomes in sight.
EnterChekitan.
Chekitan.
Have I then found thee, thou false hearted Traitor?Thou Tyger, Viper, Snake, thou worse than Christian;Bloodthirsty Butcher, more than Murderer!Thou every Thing but what Men ought to love!Do you still live to breathe and see the Sun?And face me with your savage guilty Eye?
Have I then found thee, thou false hearted Traitor?Thou Tyger, Viper, Snake, thou worse than Christian;Bloodthirsty Butcher, more than Murderer!Thou every Thing but what Men ought to love!Do you still live to breathe and see the Sun?And face me with your savage guilty Eye?
Philip.
I fear'd, alas, you would run mad and rave.Why do you blame me that I am not dead?I risk'd my Life, was wounded for your Sake,Did all I could for your Monelia's Safety,And to revenge you on her Murderers.Your Grief distracts you, or you'd thank me for 't.
I fear'd, alas, you would run mad and rave.Why do you blame me that I am not dead?I risk'd my Life, was wounded for your Sake,Did all I could for your Monelia's Safety,And to revenge you on her Murderers.Your Grief distracts you, or you'd thank me for 't.
Chekitan.
Would you still tempt my Rage, and fire my Soul,Already bent to spill your treacherous Blood?You base Dissembler! know you are detected,Torax still lives, and has discover'd all.[Philipstarts and trembles.
Would you still tempt my Rage, and fire my Soul,Already bent to spill your treacherous Blood?You base Dissembler! know you are detected,Torax still lives, and has discover'd all.[Philipstarts and trembles.
[Philipstarts and trembles.
Philip.
Torax alive!—It cannot—must not be.[Aside.
Torax alive!—It cannot—must not be.[Aside.
[Aside.
Chekitan.
Well may you shake—You cannot mend your Blow.He lived to see, what none but you could think of,The bloody Knife drawn from Monelia's Breast.Had you a thousand Lives, they'd be too few;Had you a Sea of Blood, 't would be too smallTo wash away your deep-dy'd Stain of Guilt.Now you shall die; and Oh, if there be PowersThat after Death take Vengeance on such Crimes,May they pursue you with their Flames of Wrath,Till all their Magazines of Pain are spent.[He attacksPhilipwith his hatchet.
Well may you shake—You cannot mend your Blow.He lived to see, what none but you could think of,The bloody Knife drawn from Monelia's Breast.Had you a thousand Lives, they'd be too few;Had you a Sea of Blood, 't would be too smallTo wash away your deep-dy'd Stain of Guilt.Now you shall die; and Oh, if there be PowersThat after Death take Vengeance on such Crimes,May they pursue you with their Flames of Wrath,Till all their Magazines of Pain are spent.[He attacksPhilipwith his hatchet.
[He attacksPhilipwith his hatchet.
Philip.
I must defend myself [Drawing his hatchet], the Case is desperate.[Fights;Philipfalls.Fate is too hard; and I'm oblig'd to yield.'Twas well begun—but has a wretched End—Yet I'm reveng'd—She cannot live again.You cannot boast to 've shed more Blood than I—Oh, had I—had I—struck but one Blow more![Dies.
I must defend myself [Drawing his hatchet], the Case is desperate.[Fights;Philipfalls.Fate is too hard; and I'm oblig'd to yield.'Twas well begun—but has a wretched End—Yet I'm reveng'd—She cannot live again.You cannot boast to 've shed more Blood than I—Oh, had I—had I—struck but one Blow more![Dies.
[Fights;Philipfalls.
[Dies.
Chekitan.
What have I done! this is my Brother's Blood!A guilty Murderer's Blood! He was no Brother.All Nature's Laws and Ties are hence dissolv'd;There is no Kindred, Friendship, Faith, or LoveAmong Mankind—Monelia's dead—The WorldIs all unhing'd—There's universal War—She was the Tie, the Centre of the Whole;And she remov'd, all is one general Jar.Where next, Monelia, shall I bend my ArmTo heal this Discord, this Disorder still,And bring the Chaos Universe to Form?Blood still must flow and float the scatter'd LimbsTill thy much injur'd love in Peace subsides.Then every jarring Discord once will cease,And a new World from these rude Ruins rise.[Pauses.Here then I point the Edge, from hence shall flow[Pointing his knife to his heart.The raging crimson Flood, this is the FountainWhose swift Day's Stream shall waft me to thy Arms,Lest Philip's Ghost should injure thy Repose.[Stabs himself.I come, I come—Monelia, now I come—Philip—away—She's mine in spite of Death.[Dies.
What have I done! this is my Brother's Blood!A guilty Murderer's Blood! He was no Brother.All Nature's Laws and Ties are hence dissolv'd;There is no Kindred, Friendship, Faith, or LoveAmong Mankind—Monelia's dead—The WorldIs all unhing'd—There's universal War—She was the Tie, the Centre of the Whole;And she remov'd, all is one general Jar.Where next, Monelia, shall I bend my ArmTo heal this Discord, this Disorder still,And bring the Chaos Universe to Form?Blood still must flow and float the scatter'd LimbsTill thy much injur'd love in Peace subsides.Then every jarring Discord once will cease,And a new World from these rude Ruins rise.[Pauses.Here then I point the Edge, from hence shall flow[Pointing his knife to his heart.The raging crimson Flood, this is the FountainWhose swift Day's Stream shall waft me to thy Arms,Lest Philip's Ghost should injure thy Repose.[Stabs himself.I come, I come—Monelia, now I come—Philip—away—She's mine in spite of Death.[Dies.
[Pauses.
[Pointing his knife to his heart.
[Stabs himself.
[Dies.
EnterTenesco.
Tenesco.
Oh! I'm too late, the fatal Work is done.Unhappy Princes; this your wretched End;Your Country's Hopes and your fond Father's Joy;Are you no more? Slain by each other's Hands,Or what is worse; or by the Air you breath'd?For all is Murder, Death, and Blood about us:Nothing safe; it is contagious all:The Earth, and Air, and Skies are full of Treason!The Evil Genius rules the Universe,And on Mankind rains Tempests of Destruction.Where will the Slaughter of the Species end?When it begins with Kings and with their Sons,A general Ruin threatens all below.How will the good King hear the sad Report?I fear th' Event; but as it can't be hid,I'll bear it to him in the softest Terms,And summon every Power to soothe his Grief,And slack the Torrent of his Royal Passion.[Exit.
Oh! I'm too late, the fatal Work is done.Unhappy Princes; this your wretched End;Your Country's Hopes and your fond Father's Joy;Are you no more? Slain by each other's Hands,Or what is worse; or by the Air you breath'd?For all is Murder, Death, and Blood about us:Nothing safe; it is contagious all:The Earth, and Air, and Skies are full of Treason!The Evil Genius rules the Universe,And on Mankind rains Tempests of Destruction.Where will the Slaughter of the Species end?When it begins with Kings and with their Sons,A general Ruin threatens all below.How will the good King hear the sad Report?I fear th' Event; but as it can't be hid,I'll bear it to him in the softest Terms,And summon every Power to soothe his Grief,And slack the Torrent of his Royal Passion.[Exit.
[Exit.
Scene V.Senate-House.
Ponteach[solus].
The Torrent rises, and the Tempest blows;Where will this rough, rude Storm of Ruin end?What crimson Floods are yet to drench the Earth?What new-form'd Mischiefs hover in the Air,And point their Stings at this devoted Head?Has Fate exhausted all her Stores of Wrath,Or has she other Vengeance in reserve?What can she more? My Sons, my Name is gone;My Hopes all blasted, my Delights all fled;Nothing remains but an afflicted King,That might be pitied by Earth's greatest Wretch.My Friends; my Sons, ignobly, basely slain,Are more than murder'd, more than lost by Death.Had they died fighting in their Country's Cause,I should have smil'd and gloried in their Fall;Yes, boasting that I had such Sons to lose,I would have rode in Triumph o'er their Tombs.But thus to die, the Martyrs of their Folly,Involv'd in all the complicated GuiltOf Treason, Murder, Falsehood, and Deceit,Unbridled Passion, Cowardice, Revenge,And every Thing that can debase the Man,And render him the just Contempt of all,And fix the foulest Stain of Infamy,Beyond the Power of Time to blot it out;This is too much; and my griev'd Spirit sinksBeneath the Weight of such gigantic Woe.Ye that would see a piteous, wretched King,Look on a Father griev'd and curs'd like me;Look on a King whose Sons have died like mine!Then you'll confess that these are dangerous Names,And put it in the Power of Fate to curse us;It is on such she shews her highest Spite.But I'm too far—'Tis not a Time to grieveFor private Losses, when the Public calls.
The Torrent rises, and the Tempest blows;Where will this rough, rude Storm of Ruin end?What crimson Floods are yet to drench the Earth?What new-form'd Mischiefs hover in the Air,And point their Stings at this devoted Head?Has Fate exhausted all her Stores of Wrath,Or has she other Vengeance in reserve?What can she more? My Sons, my Name is gone;My Hopes all blasted, my Delights all fled;Nothing remains but an afflicted King,That might be pitied by Earth's greatest Wretch.My Friends; my Sons, ignobly, basely slain,Are more than murder'd, more than lost by Death.Had they died fighting in their Country's Cause,I should have smil'd and gloried in their Fall;Yes, boasting that I had such Sons to lose,I would have rode in Triumph o'er their Tombs.But thus to die, the Martyrs of their Folly,Involv'd in all the complicated GuiltOf Treason, Murder, Falsehood, and Deceit,Unbridled Passion, Cowardice, Revenge,And every Thing that can debase the Man,And render him the just Contempt of all,And fix the foulest Stain of Infamy,Beyond the Power of Time to blot it out;This is too much; and my griev'd Spirit sinksBeneath the Weight of such gigantic Woe.Ye that would see a piteous, wretched King,Look on a Father griev'd and curs'd like me;Look on a King whose Sons have died like mine!Then you'll confess that these are dangerous Names,And put it in the Power of Fate to curse us;It is on such she shews her highest Spite.But I'm too far—'Tis not a Time to grieveFor private Losses, when the Public calls.
EnterTenesco, looking sorrowful.
What are your Tidings?—I have no more Sons.
What are your Tidings?—I have no more Sons.
Tenesco.
But you have Subjects, and regard their Safety.The treacherous Priest, intrusted with your Councils,Has publish'd all, and added his own Falsehoods;The Chiefs have all revolted from your Cause,Patch'd up a Peace, and lend their Help no more.
But you have Subjects, and regard their Safety.The treacherous Priest, intrusted with your Councils,Has publish'd all, and added his own Falsehoods;The Chiefs have all revolted from your Cause,Patch'd up a Peace, and lend their Help no more.
Ponteach.
And is this all? we must defend ourselves,Supply the Place of Numbers with our Courage,And learn to conquer with our very Looks:This is a Time that tries the Truth of Valour;He shows his Courage that dares stem the Storm,And live in spite of Violence and Fate.Shall holy Perfidy and seeming LiesDestroy our Purpose, sink us into Cowards?
And is this all? we must defend ourselves,Supply the Place of Numbers with our Courage,And learn to conquer with our very Looks:This is a Time that tries the Truth of Valour;He shows his Courage that dares stem the Storm,And live in spite of Violence and Fate.Shall holy Perfidy and seeming LiesDestroy our Purpose, sink us into Cowards?
Tenesco.
May your Hopes prosper! I'll excite the TroopsBy your Example still to keep the Field.[Exit.
May your Hopes prosper! I'll excite the TroopsBy your Example still to keep the Field.[Exit.
[Exit.
Ponteach.
'Tis coming on. Thus Wave succeeds to Wave,Till the Storm's spent, then all subsides again—The Chiefs revolted:—My Design betray'd:—May he that trusts a Christian meet the same;They have no Faith, no Honesty, no God,And cannot merit Confidence from Men.Were I alone the boist'rous Tempest's Sport,I'd quickly move my shatter'd, trembling Bark,And follow my departed Sons to Rest.But my brave Countrymen, my Friends, my Subjects,Demand my Care: I'll not desert the Helm,Nor leave a dang'rous Station in Distress;Yes, I will live, in spite of Fate I'll live;Was I not Ponteach, was I not a King,Such Giant Mischiefs would not gather round me.And since I'm Ponteach, since I am a King,I'll shew myself Superior to them all;I'll rise above this Hurricane of Fate,And shew my Courage to the Gods themselves.
'Tis coming on. Thus Wave succeeds to Wave,Till the Storm's spent, then all subsides again—The Chiefs revolted:—My Design betray'd:—May he that trusts a Christian meet the same;They have no Faith, no Honesty, no God,And cannot merit Confidence from Men.Were I alone the boist'rous Tempest's Sport,I'd quickly move my shatter'd, trembling Bark,And follow my departed Sons to Rest.But my brave Countrymen, my Friends, my Subjects,Demand my Care: I'll not desert the Helm,Nor leave a dang'rous Station in Distress;Yes, I will live, in spite of Fate I'll live;Was I not Ponteach, was I not a King,Such Giant Mischiefs would not gather round me.And since I'm Ponteach, since I am a King,I'll shew myself Superior to them all;I'll rise above this Hurricane of Fate,And shew my Courage to the Gods themselves.
EnterTenesco, surprised and pausing.
I am prepar'd, be not afraid to tell;You cannot speak what Ponteach dare not hear.
I am prepar'd, be not afraid to tell;You cannot speak what Ponteach dare not hear.
Tenesco.
Our bravest Troops are slain, the rest pursu'd;All is Disorder, Tumult, and Rebellion.Those that remain insist on speedy Flight;You must attend them, or be left aloneUnto the Fury of a conquering Foe,Nor will they long expect your Royal Pleasure.
Our bravest Troops are slain, the rest pursu'd;All is Disorder, Tumult, and Rebellion.Those that remain insist on speedy Flight;You must attend them, or be left aloneUnto the Fury of a conquering Foe,Nor will they long expect your Royal Pleasure.
Ponteach.
Will they desert their King in such an Hour,When Pity might induce them to protect him?Kings like the Gods are valued and ador'd,When Men expect their Bounties in Return,Place them in Want, destroy the giving Power,All Sacrifices and Regards will cease.Go, tell my Friends that I'll attend their Call.[Rising. ExitTenesco.I will not fear—but must obey my Stars:[Looking round.Ye fertile Fields and glad'ning Streams, adieu;Ye Fountains that have quench'd my scorching Thirst,Ye Shades that hid the Sun-beams from my Head,Ye Groves and Hills that yielded me the Chace,Ye flow'ry Meads, and Banks, and bending Trees,And thou proud Earth, made drunk with Royal Blood,I am no more your Owner and your King.But witness for me to your new base Lords,That my unconquer'd Mind defies them still;And though I fly, 'tis on the Wings of Hope.Yes, I will hence where there's no British Foe,And wait a Respite from this Storm of Woe;Beget more Sons, fresh Troops collect and arm,And other Schemes of future Greatness form;Britons may boast, the Gods may have their Will,Ponteach I am, and shall be Ponteach still.[Exit.
Will they desert their King in such an Hour,When Pity might induce them to protect him?Kings like the Gods are valued and ador'd,When Men expect their Bounties in Return,Place them in Want, destroy the giving Power,All Sacrifices and Regards will cease.Go, tell my Friends that I'll attend their Call.[Rising. ExitTenesco.I will not fear—but must obey my Stars:[Looking round.Ye fertile Fields and glad'ning Streams, adieu;Ye Fountains that have quench'd my scorching Thirst,Ye Shades that hid the Sun-beams from my Head,Ye Groves and Hills that yielded me the Chace,Ye flow'ry Meads, and Banks, and bending Trees,And thou proud Earth, made drunk with Royal Blood,I am no more your Owner and your King.But witness for me to your new base Lords,That my unconquer'd Mind defies them still;And though I fly, 'tis on the Wings of Hope.Yes, I will hence where there's no British Foe,And wait a Respite from this Storm of Woe;Beget more Sons, fresh Troops collect and arm,And other Schemes of future Greatness form;Britons may boast, the Gods may have their Will,Ponteach I am, and shall be Ponteach still.[Exit.
[Rising. ExitTenesco.
[Looking round.
[Exit.
Finis.