Scene I.—An Indian Trading House.
Enter M’Dole and Murphey, Two Indian Traders, and their Servants.
M’Dole. So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune
Among the Savages in this wild Desart?
Murphey. Ay, any thing to get an honest Living,
Which, faith, I find it hard enough to do;
Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,
That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.
M’Dole. Are you experienced in this kind of Trade?
Know you the Principles by which it prospers,
And how to make it lucrative and safe?
If not, you’re like a Ship without a Rudder,
That drives at random, and must surely sink.
Murphey. I’m unacquainted with your Indian Commerce
And gladly would I learn the arts from you,
Who’re old, and practis’d in them many Years.
M’Dole. That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders;
A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,
Who might as well turn Ministers of State.
But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you
Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,
Which if all practis’d, we might all grow rich,
Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.
What have you got to part with to the Indians?
Murphey. I’ve Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells,
And such like Trifles as they’re wont to prize.
M’Dole. ’Tis very well: your Articles are good:
But now the Thing’s to make a Profit from them,
Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither.
Our fundamental Maxim then is this,
That it’s no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian.