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_ ACT V - SCENE I.
The Border of a Grove, in which MONELIA and TORAX are asleep.[Enter PHILIP [speaking to himself].]
As a dark Tempest brewing in the Air,
For many Days hides Sun and Moon, and Stars,
At length grown ripe, bursts forth and forms a Flood
That frights both Men and Beasts, and drowns the Land;
So my dark Purpose now must have its Birth,
Long nourish'd in my Bosom, 'tis matur'd,
And ready to astonish and embroil
Kings and their Kingdoms, and decide their Fates.
Are they not here? Have I delay'd too long?
[He espies them asleep.]
Yes, in a Posture too beyond my Hopes,
Asleep! This is the Providence of Fate,
And proves she patronizes my Design,
And I'll show her that Philip is no Coward.
[Taking up his hatchet in one hand, and
scalping knife in the other, towards them.]
A Moment now is more than Years to come:
Intrepid as I am, the Work is shocking.
[He retreats from them.]
Is it their Innocence that shakes my Purpose?
No; I can tear the Suckling from the Breast,
And drink their Blood who never knew a Crime.
Is it because my Brother's Charmer dies?
That cannot be, for that is my Revenge.
Is it because Monelia is a Woman?
I've long been blind and deaf to their Enchantments.
Is it because I take them thus unguarded?
No; though I act the Coward, it's a Secret.
What is it shakes my firm and fix'd Resolve?
'Tis childish Weakness: I'll not be unman'd.
[Approaches and retreats again.]
There's something awful in the Face of Princes,
And he that sheds their Blood, assaults the Gods:
But I'm a Prince, and 'tis by me they die;
[Advances arm'd as before.]
Each Hand contains the Fate of future Kings,
And, were they Gods, I would not balk my Purpose.
[Stabs MONELIA with the knife.]
TORAX.
Hah! Philip, are you come? What can you mean?
[TORAX starts and cries out.]
PHILIP.
Go learn my Meaning in the World of Spirits;
[Knocks him down with his hatchet, &c.]
'Tis now too late to make a Question of it.
The Play is ended
[Looking upon the bodies],
now succeeds the Farce.
Hullo! Help! Haste! the Enemy is here.
[Calling at one of the doors, and returning.]]
Help is at Hand--But I must first be wounded:
[Wounds himself.]
Now let the Gods themselves detect the Fraud.
[Enter an INDIAN.]
INDIAN.
What means your Cry? Is any Mischief here?
PHILIP.
Behold this flowing Blood; a desperate Wound!
[Shewing his wound.]
And there's a Deed that shakes the Root of Empires.
[Pointing to the bodies.]
2ND INDIAN.
Oh, fatal Sight! the Mohawk Prince is murder'd.
3RD INDIAN.
The Princess too is weltering in her Blood.
PHILIP.
Both, both are gone; 'tis well that I escap'd.
[Enter PONTEACH.]
PONTEACH.
What means this Outcry, Noise, and Tumult here?
PHILIP.
Oh see, my Father! see the Blood of Princes,
A Sight that might provoke the Gods to weep,
And drown the Country in a Flood of Tears.
Great was my Haste, but could not stop the Deed;
I rush'd among their Numbers for Revenge,
They frighted fled; there I receiv'd this Wound.
[Shewing his wound to PONTEACH.]
PONTEACH.
Who, what were they? or where did they escape?
PHILIP.
A Band of English Warriors, bloody Dogs!
This Way they ran from my vindictive Arm,
[Pointing, &c.]
Which but for this base Wound would sure have stopp'd them.
PONTEACH.
Pursue, pursue, with utmost Speed pursue,
[To the WARRIORS present.]
Outfly the Wind till you revenge this Blood;
'Tis royal Blood, we count it as our own.
[Exeunt WARRIORS in haste.]
This Scene is dark, and doubtful the Event;
Some great Decree of Fate depends upon it,
And mighty Good or Ill awaits Mankind.
The Blood of Princes cannot flow in vain,
The Gods must be in Council to permit it:
It is the Harbinger of their Designs,
To change, new-mould, and alter Things on Earth:
And much I fear, 'tis ominous of Ill,
To me and mine; it happen'd in my Kingdom.
Their Father's Rage will swell into a Torrent--
They were my Guests--His Wrath will centre here;
Our guilty Land hath drunk his Children's Blood.
PHILIP.
Had I not seen the flying Murderers,
Myself been wounded to revenge their Crime,
Had you not hasten'd to pursue the assassins,
He might have thought us treacherous and false,
Or wanting in our hospitable Care:
But now it cannot but engage his Friendship,
Rouse him to Arms, and with a Father's Rage
He'll point his Vengeance where it ought to fall;
And thus this Deed, though vile and dark as Night,
In its Events will open Day upon us,
And prove of great Advantage to our State.
PONTEACH.
Haste then; declare our Innocence and Grief;
Tell the old King we mourn as for our own,
And are determin'd to revenge his Wrongs;
Assure him that our Enemies are his,
And rouse him like a Tyger to the Prey.
PHILIP.
I will with Speed; but first this bleeding Wound
Demands my Care, lest you lament me too.
[Exit, to have his wound dress'd.]
PONTEACH
[solus].
Pale, breathless Youths! Your Dignity still lives:
[Viewing the bodies.]
Your Murderers were blind, or they'd have trembled,
Nor dar'd to wound such Majesty and Worth;
It would have tam'd the savage running Bear,
And made the raging Tyger fondly fawn;
But your more savage Murderers were Christians.
Oh, the distress'd good King! I feel for him,
And wish to comfort his desponding Heart;
But your last Rites require my present Care.
[Exit.] _
Read next: Act 5 - Scene 2
Read previous: Act 4 - Scene 4
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