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_ ACT I - 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 send their painted Heads to Hell with Thunder!
I swear I'll blow 'em hence with Cannon Ball,
And give the Devil an Hundred for his Supper.
FRISK.
They're coming here; you see they scent your Track,
And while you'll listen, they will ne'er be silent,
But every Day improve in Insolence.
COCKUM.
I'll soon dispatch and storm them from my Presence.
[Enter PONTEACH, and other Indian CHIEFS.]
PONTEACH.
Well, Mr. Colonel Cockum, what d' they call you?
You give no Answer yet to my Complaint;
Your Men give my Men always too much Rum,
Then trade and cheat 'em. What! d' ye think this right?
COCKUM.
Tush! Silence! hold your noisy cursed Nonsense;
I've heard enough of it; what is it to me?
PONTEACH.
What! you a Colonel, and not command your Men?
Let ev'ry one be a Rogue that has a Mind to 't.
COCKUM.
Why, curse your Men, I suppose they wanted Rum;
They'll rarely be content, I know, without it.
PONTEACH.
What then? If Indians are such Fools, I think
White Men like you should stop and teach them better.
COCKUM.
I'm not a Pedagogue to your curs'd Indians.
[Aside.]
PONTEACH.
Colonel, I hope that you'll consider this.
FRISK.
Why, don't you see the Colonel will not hear you?
You'd better go and watch your Men yourself,
Nor plague us with your cursed endless Noise;
We've something else to do of more Importance.
PONTEACH.
Hah! Captain Frisk, what! you a great man too?
My Bus'ness here is only with your Colonel;
And I'll be heard, or know the Reason why.
1ST CHIEF.
I thought the English had been better Men.
2ND CHIEF.
Frenchmen would always hear an Indian speak,
And answer fair, and make good Promises.
COCKUM.
You may be d----d, and all your Frenchmen too.
PONTEACH.
Be d----d! what's that? I do not understand.
COCKUM.
The Devil teach you; he'll do it without a Fee.
PONTEACH.
The Devil teach! I think you one great Fool.
Did your King tell you thus to treat the Indians?
Had he been such a Dunce he ne'er had conquer'd,
And made the running French for Quarter cry.
I always mind that such proud Fools are Cowards,
And never do aught that is great or good.
COCKUM.
Forbear your Impudence, you curs'd old Thief;
This Moment leave my Fort, and to your Country.
Let me hear no more of your hellish Clamour,
Or to D----n I will blow you all,
And feast the Devil with one hearty Meal.
PONTEACH.
So ho! Know you whose Country you are in?
Think you, because you have subdu'd the French,
That Indians too are now become your Slaves?
This Country's mine, and here I reign as King;
I value not your Threats, nor Forts, nor Guns;
I have got Warriors, Courage, Strength, and Skill.
Colonel, take care; the Wound is very deep,
Consider well, for it is hard to cure.
[Exeunt INDIANS.]
FRISK.
Vile Infidels! observe their Insolence;
Old Ponteach puts on a mighty Air.
COCKUM.
They'll always be a Torment till destroy'd,
And sent all headlong to the Devil's Kitchen.
This curs'd old Thief, no doubt, will give us Trouble,
Provok'd and madded at his cool Reception.
FRISK.
Oh! Colonel, they are never worth our minding,
What can they do against our Bombs and Cannon?
True, they may skulk, and kill and scalp a few,
But, Heav'n be thank'd, we're safe within these Walls:
Besides, I think the Governors are coming,
To make them Presents, and establish Peace.
COCKUM.
That may perhaps appease their bloody Minds,
And keep them quiet for some little Term.
God send the Day that puts them all to sleep,
Come, will you crack a Bottle at my Tent?
FRISK.
With all my Heart, and drink D----n to them.
COCKUM.
I can in nothing more sincerely join.
[Exeunt.] _
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