Philip [solus].
Oh! what a wretched Thing is a Man in Love!
All Fear—all Hope—all Diffidence—all Faith—
Distrusts the greatest Strength, depends on Straws—
Soften'd, unprovident, disarm'd, unman'd,
Led blindfold; every Power denies its Aid,
And every Passion's but a Slave to this;
Honour, Revenge, Ambition, Interest, all
Upon its Altar bleed—Kingdoms and Crowns
Are slighted and condemn'd, and all the Ties
Of Nature are dissolv'd by this poor Passion:
Once have I felt its Poison in my Heart,
When this same Chekitan a Captive led
The fair Donanta from the Illinois;
I saw, admir'd, and lov'd the charming Maid,
And as a Favour ask'd her from his Hands,
But he refus'd and sold her for a Slave.
My Love is dead, but my Resentment lives,
And now's my Time to let the Flame break forth,
For while I pay this ancient Debt of Vengeance,
I'll serve my Country, and advance myself.
He loves Monelia—Hendrick must be won—
Monelia and her Brother both must bleed—
This is my Vengeance on her Lover's Head—
Then I'll affirm, 'twas done by Englishmen—
And to gain Credit both with Friends and Foes,
I'll wound myself, and say that I receiv'd it
By striving to assist them in the Combat.
This will rouse Hendrick's Wrath, and arm his Troops
To Blood and Vengeance on the common Foe.
And further still my Profit may extend;
My Brother's Rage will lead him into Danger,
And, he cut off, the Empire's all my own.
Thus am I fix'd; my Scheme of Goodness laid,
And I'll effect it, tho' thro' Blood I wade,
To desperate Wounds apply a desperate Cure,
And to tall Structures lay Foundations sure;
To Fame and Empire hence my Course I bend,
And every Step I take shall thither tend.
ACT III.
Scene I. A Forest.
Chekitan.
[Seeing Torax and Monelia, coming towards them.]
As the young Hunter, anxious in the Chace,
With beating Heart and quivering Hand espies
The wish'd for Game, and trembles for th' Event,
So I behold the bright Monelia's Steps,
Whom anxiously I've sought, approach this way—
What shall I say? or how shall I accost her?
It is a fatal Minute to mistake in.
The Joy or Grief of Life depends upon 't;
It is the important Crisis of my Fate.
I've thought a thousand things to say and do,
But know not which to say or do the first.
Shall I begin with my old Tale of Love?
Or shall I shock her with the News of War?
Must I put on the Face of Joy or Grief?
Seem unconcern'd or full of Doubts and Fears?
How unprepar'd I am for the Encounter!
I'd rather stand against an Host of Foes—
But she draws near, and Fate must guide me now,
[Enter Torax and Monelia.