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_ ACT II
SCENE II.
A forest. [Enter PERCY, ROLFE>.]
ROLFE.
So far indeed 'tis fruitless, yet we'll on.
PERCY.
Aye, to the death.
ROLFE.
Brave Percy, come, confess
You have forgot your love.
PERCY.
Why, faith, not quite;
Despite of me, it sometimes through my mind
Flits like a dark cloud o'er a summer sky;
But passes off like that, and leaves me cloudless.
I can't forget that she was sweet as spring;
Fair as the day.
ROLFE.
Aye, aye, like April weather;
Sweet, fair, and faithless.
PERCY.
True alas! like April!
Song--PERCY.
Fair Geraldine each charm of spring possest,
Her cheek glow'd with the rose and lily's strife;
Her breath was perfume, and each winter'd breast
Felt that her sunny eyes beam'd light and life.
Alas! that in a form of blooming May,
The mind should April's changeful liv'ry wear!
Yet ah! like April, smiling to betray,
Is Geraldine, as false as she is fair!
ROLFE.
Beshrew the little gipsy! let us on.
[Exeunt PERCY, ROLFE.]
[Enter LARRY, WALTER, ROBIN, &c.]
LARRY.
Go no further? Och! you hen-hearted cock robin!
ROBIN.
But, master Larry--
WALTER.
Prithee, thou evergreen aspen leaf,
thou non-intermittent ague! why didst along with us?
ROBIN.
Why, you know, my master Rolfe desired it; and then you were always railing out on me for chicken-heartedness. I came to shew ye I had valour.
WALTER.
But forgetting to bring it with thee, thou wouldst now back for it;
well, in the name of Mars, go; return for thy valour, Robin.
ROBIN.
What! alone?
LARRY.
Arrah! then stay here till it comes to you, and then follow us.
ROBIN.
Stay here! O Lord, methinks I feel an arrow sticking in my
gizzard already! Hark ye, my sweet master, let us sing.
LARRY.
Sing?
ROBIN.
Sing; I'm always valiant when I sing.
Beseech you, let us chaunt the glee that
I dish'd up for us three.
LARRY.
It has a spice of your cowardly cookery in it.
WALTER.
But since 'tis a provocative to Robin's valour--
LARRY.
Go to: give a lusty hem, and fall on.
Glee.
We three, adventurers be,
Just come from our own country;
We have cross'd thrice a thousand ma,
Without a penny of money.
We three, good fellows be,
Who wou'd run like the devil from Indians three;
We never admir'd their bowmandry;
Oh, give us whole skins for our money.
We three, merry men be,
Who gaily will chaunt our ancient glee,
Though a lass or a glass, in this wild country,
Can't be had, or for love, or for money.
LARRY.
Well, how do you feel?
ROBIN.
As courageous as, as a--
LARRY.
As a wren, little Robin. Are you sure, now,
you won't be after fancying every deer that
skips by you a divil, and every bush a bear?
ROBIN.
I defy the devil; but hav'n't you heard, my masters, how the savages go a hunting, drest out in deer-skin? How could you put one in mind, master Larry? O Lord! that I should come a captain-hunting! the only game we put up is deer that carry scalping knives! or if we beat the bush to start a bold commander, up bolts a bloody bear!
[WALTER and LARRY exchange significant nods.]
LARRY.
To be sure we're in a parlous case. The forest laws are dev'lish severe here: an they catch us trespassing upon their hunting ground, we shall pay a neat poll-tax: nothing less than our heads will serve.
ROBIN.
Our heads?
WALTER.
Yes, faith! they'll soon collect their capitation. They wear men's heads, sir, hanging at the breast, Instead of jewels; and at either ear, Most commonly, a child's, by way of ear-drop.
ROBIN.
Oh! curse their finery! jewels, heads, O Lord!
LARRY.
Pshaw man! don't fear. Perhaps they'll only burn us.
What a delicate roasted Robin you wou'd make!
Troth! they'd so lick their lips!
ROBIN.
A roasted robin!--
WALTER.
Tut! if they only burn us, 'twill be brave.
Robin shall make our death-songs.
ROBIN.
Death-songs, oh!
[ROBIN stands motionless with fear.]
LARRY.
By the good looking right eye of Saint Patrick,
There's Rolfe and Percy, with a tribe of Indians.
[Looking out.]
ROBIN.
Indians! they're pris'ners, and we--we're dead men!
[While WALTER and LARRY exeunt, ROBIN gets up into a tree.]
O Walter, Larry! ha! what gone, all gone! Poor Robin, what is to become of thee?
[Enter SMITH, POCAHONTAS, NANTAQUAS, PERCY,
ROLFE, NIMA and INDIANS, LARRY and WALTER.]
SMITH.
At hazard of her own dear life she saved me.
E'en the warm friendship of the prince had fail'd,
And death, inevitable death, hung over me.
Oh, had you seen her fly, like Pity's herald,
To stay the uplifted hatchet in its flight;
Or heard her, as with cherub voice she pled,
Like Heav'n's own angel-advocate, for mercy.
POCAHONTAS.
My brother, speak not so.
[Bashfully.]
ROLFE.
What gentleness!
What sweet simplicity! what angel softness!
[ROLFE goes to her. She, timidly, but with evident pleasure, receives his attentions. During this scene the PRINCESS discovers the first advances of love in a heart of perfect simplicity. SMITH, &c., converse apart.]
ROBIN.
[In the tree.]
Egad! there's never a head hanging to their ears;
and their ears hang to their heads, for all the
world as if they were christians; I'll venture
down among them.
[Getting down.]
NIMA.
Ah!
[Bends her bow, and is about to shoot at him.]
LARRY.
Arrah! my little dark Diana, choose noble game,
that's only little Robin.
ROBIN.
Aye, bless you, I'm only little Robin.
[Jumps down.]
[NIMA examines him curiously, but fearfully.]
ROBIN.
Gad, she's taken with my figure; ah! there it is now; a personable fellow shall have his wench any where. Yes, she's admiring my figure. Well, my dusky dear, how could you like such a man as I am?
NIMA.
Are you a man?
ROBIN.
I'll convince you of it some day. Hark ye, my dear.
[Attempts to whisper.]
NIMA.
Ah! don't bite.
ROBIN.
Bite! what do you take me for?
NIMA.
A racoon.
ROBIN.
A racoon! Why so?
NIMA.
You run up the tree.
[Motions as if climbing.]
LARRY.
Well said, my little pagan Pythagoras!-- Ha! ha!
ROBIN.
Hum!
[Retires disconcerted.]
[ROLFE and PERCY come forward.]
ROLFE.
Tell me, in sooth, didst ever mark such sweetness!
Such winning--such bewitching gentleness!
PERCY.
What, caught, my flighty friend, love-lim'd at last?
O Cupid, Cupid! thou'rt a skilful birder.
Although thou spread thy net, i' the wilderness,
Or shoot thy bird-bolt from an Indian bow,
Or place thy light in savage ladies' eyes,
Or pipe thy call in savage ladies' voices,
Alas! each tow'ring tenant of the air
Must fall heart pierc'd--or stoop, at thy command,
To sigh his sad notes in thy cage, O Cupid!
ROLFE.
A truce; a truce! O friend, her guiltless breast
Seems Love's pavilion, where, in gentle sleep,
The unrous'd boy has rested. O my Percy!
Could I but wake the slumb'rer--
PERCY.
Nay, i' faith,
Take courage; thou hast given the alarm:
Methinks the drowsy god gets up apace.
ROLFE.
Say'st thou?
SMITH.
Come, gentlemen, we'll toward the town.
NANTAQUAS.
My sister, you will now return to our father.
PRINCESS.
Return, my brother?
NANTAQUAS.
Our father lives but while you are near him.
Go, my sister, make him happy with the knowledge
of his son's happiness. Farewell, my sister!
[The PRINCESS appears dejected.]
SMITH.
Once more, my guardian angel, let me thank thee.
[Kissing her hand.]
Ere long we will return to thee, with presents
Well worth a princess' and a king's acceptance.
Meantime, dear lady, tell the good Powhatan
We'll show the prince such grace and entertainment,
As shall befit our brother and his son.
Adieu, sweet sister.
[Music. They take leave of the PRINCESS; she remains
silently dejected; her eyes anxiously follow ROLFE,
who lingers behind, and is the last to take leave.]
PRINCESS.
Stranger, wilt thou too come to Werocomoco?
ROLFE.
Dost thou wish it, lady?
PRINCESS.
[Eagerly.]
O yes!
ROLFE.
And why, lovely lady?
PRINCESS.
My eyes are pleased to see thee,
and my ears to hear thee, stranger.
ROLFE.
And did not the others who were here also please
thy sight and hearing?
PRINCESS.
Oh! they were all goodly; but--their eyes looked
not like thine; their voices sounded not like thine;
and their speeches were not like thy speeches, stranger.
ROLFE.
Enchanting simplicity! But why call me stranger?
Captain Smith thou callest brother. Call me so too.
PRINCESS.
Ah, no!
ROLFE.
Then thou thinkest not of me as thou dost of him?
[She shakes her head and sighs.]
Is Captain Smith dear to thee?
PRINCESS.
Oh yes! very dear;
[ROLFE is uneasy.]
and Nantaquas too: they are my brothers;
--but--that name is not thine--thou art--
ROLFE.
What, lovely lady?
PRINCESS.
I know not; I feel the name thou art, but I cannot speak it.
ROLFE.
I am thy lover, dear princess.
PRINCESS.
Yes, thou art my lover. But why call me princess?
ROLFE.
Dear lady, thou art a king's daughter.
PRINCESS.
And if I were not, what wouldst thou call me?
ROLFE.
Oh! if thou wert a beggar's, I would call thee love!
PRINCESS.
I know not what a beggar is; but oh! I would I were a beggar's daughter, so thou wouldst call me love. Ah! do not longer call me king's daughter. If thou feelest the name as I do, call me as I call thee: thou shalt be my lover; I will be thy lover.
ROLFE.
Enchanting, lovely creature!
[Kisses her ardently.]
PRINCESS.
Lover, thou hast made my cheek to burn,
and my heart to beat! Mark it.
ROLFE.
Dear innocence!
[Putting his hand to her heart.]
PRINCESS.
Lover, why is it so? To-day before my heart beat, and mine eyes were full of tears; but then my white brother was in danger. Thou art not in danger, and yet behold
--[Wipes a tear from her eye.]
Besides, then, my heart hurt me, but now!
Oh, now!--Lover, why is it so?
[Leaning on him with innocent confidence.]
ROLFE.
Angel of purity! thou didst to-day feel pity; and now
--Oh, rapturous task to teach thee the difference!
--now, thou dost feel love.
PRINCESS.
Love!
ROLFE.
Love: the noblest, the sweetest passion that
could swell thy angel bosom.
PRINCESS.
Oh! I feel that 'tis very sweet. Lover, with thy lips thou didst make me feel it. My lips shall teach thee sweet love. [Kisses him, and artlessly looks up in his face; placing her hand upon his heart.] Does thy heart beat?
ROLFE.
Beat! O heaven!--
[ROBIN, who had been with NIMA, comes forward.]
ROBIN.
Gad! we must end our amours, or we shall be left.
Sir, my master, hadn't we better--
ROLFE.
Booby! idiot!
[Enter WALTER.]
WALTER.
Sir, lieutenant, the captain awaits your coming up.
ROLFE.
I'll follow on the instant.
PRINCESS.
Thou wilt not go?
ROLFE.
But for a time, love.
PRINCESS.
I do not wish thee to leave me.
ROLFE.
I must, love; but I will return.
PRINCESS.
Soon--very soon?
ROLFE.
Very--very soon.
PRINCESS.
I am not pleased now--and yet my heart beats. Oh, lover!
ROLFE.
My angel! there shall not a sun rise and set,
ere I am with thee. Adieu! thy own heavenly
innocence be thy safeguard. Farewell, sweet love!
[Music. He embraces her and exit, followed by ROBIN and WALTER.
PRINCESS looks after him. A pause.]
PRINCESS.
O Nima!
NIMA.
Princess, white men are pow-wows.
The white man put his lips here, and I felt something--here--
[Putting her hand to her heart.]
PRINCESS.
O lover!
[She runs to the place whence ROLFE went out, and gazes after him.]
[Music. Enter from opposite side, MIAMI.]
MIAMI.
[Sternly.]
Princess!
PRINCESS.
[Turning.]
Ah!
MIAMI.
Miami has followed thy steps. Thou art the friend of the white men.
PRINCESS.
Yes, for they are good and godlike.
MIAMI.
Mine eyes beheld the pale youth part from you;
your arms were entwined, your lips were together!
[Struggling with jealousy.]
PRINCESS.
He is my lover; I am his lover.
[Still looking after ROLFE.]
MIAMI.
[Stamps with anger.]
Hear me! In what do the red yield to the white men? and who among the red men is like Miami? While I was yet a child, did the dart which my breath blew through my sarbacan ever fail to pierce the eye of the bird? What youth dared, like Miami, to leap from the precipice, and drag the struggling bear from the foaming torrent? Is there a hunter--is there a warrior--skilful and brave as Miami? Come to my cabin, and see the scalps and the skins that adorn it. They are the trophies of the Susquehannock!
PRINCESS.
Man, mine eyes will never behold thy trophies.
They are not pleased to look on thee.
[Averting her eyes with disgust.]
MIAMI.
Ha!
[Pause--he resumes in a softened tone.]
Princess, I have crossed many woods and waters, that I might bear the daughter of Powhatan to my nation. Shall my people cry out, with scorn, "behold! our prince returns without his bride?" In what is the pale youth above the red Miami?
PRINCESS.
Thine eyes are as the panther's; thy voice like the voice of the wolf. Thou shouldst make my heart beat with joy; and I tremble before thee. Oh no! Powhatan shall give me to my lover. I will be my lover's bride!
[Music. MIAMI stamps furiously; his actions betray the most savage rage of jealousy; he rushes to seize the PRINCESS, but, recollecting that her attendants are by, he goes out in an agony, by his gestures menacing revenge. The PRINCESS exit on the opposite side, followed by train.] _
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