[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.