The Indian Princess Part 5

ROLFE. Good Walter look to the barge, see it be ready By earliest dawn.

WALTER. I shall, sir.

ROLFE. And be careful, This misadventure be not buzz'd abroad, Where 't may breed mutiny and mischief. Say We've left the captain waiting our return, Safe with the other three; meantime, choose out Some certain trusty fellows, who will swear Bravely to find their captain or their death.

WALTER. I'll hasten, sir, about it.

LARRY. Good lieutenant, Shall I along?

ROLFE. In truth, brave Irishman, We cannot have a better. Pretty Alice, Will you again lose Walter for a time?

ALICE. I would I were a man, sir, then, most willingly I'd lose myself to do our captain service.

ROLFE. An Amazon!

WALTER. Oh, 'tis a valiant dove.

LARRY. But come; Heaven and St. Patrick prosper us.

[_Exeunt WALTER, LARRY, ALICE._

ROLFE. Now, my sad friend, cannot e'en this arouse you?

Still bending with the weight of shoulder'd Cupid?

Fie! throw away that bauble, love, my friend: That glist'ning toy of listless laziness, Fit only for green girls and growing boys T' amuse themselves withal. Can an inconstant, A fickle changeling, move a man like Percy?

PERCY. Cold youth, how can you speak of that you feel not?

You never lov'd.

ROLFE. Hum! yes, in mine own way; Marry, 'twas not with sighs and folded arms; For mirth I sought in it, not misery.

Sir, I have ambled through all love's gradations Most jollily, and seriously the whilst.

I have sworn oaths of love on my knee, yet laugh'd not; Complaints and chidings heard, but heeded not; Kiss'd the cheek clear from tear-drops, and yet wept not; Listen'd to vows of truth, which I believed not; And after have been jilted--

PERCY. Well!

ROLFE. And car'd not.

PERCY. Call you this loving?

ROLFE. Aye, and wisely loving.

Not, sir, to have the current of one's blood Froz'n with a frown, and molten with a smile; Make ebb and flood under a lady Luna, Liker the moon in changing than in chasteness.

'Tis not to be a courier, posting up To the seventh heav'n, or down to the gloomy centre, On the fool's errand of a wanton--pshaw!

Women! they're made of whimsies and caprice, So variant and so wild, that, ty'd to a G.o.d, They'd dally with the devil for a change.-- Rather than wed a European dame, I'd take a squaw o' the woods, and get papooses.

PERCY. If Cupid burn thee not for heresy, Love is no longer catholic religion.

ROLFE. An' if he do, I'll die a st.u.r.dy martyr.

And to the last preach to thee, pagan Percy, Till I have made a convert. Answer me, Is not this idol of thy heathen worship That sent thee hither a despairing pilgrim; Thy G.o.ddess, Geraldine, is she not false?

PERCY. Most false!

ROLFE. For shame, then; cease adoring her; Untwine the twisted cable of your arms, Heave from your freighted bosom all its charge, In one full sigh, and puff it strongly from you; Then, raising your earth-reading eyes to Heaven, Laud your kind stars you were not married to her, And so forget her.

PERCY. Ah! my worthy Rolfe, 'Tis not the hand of infant Resolution Can pluck this rooted pa.s.sion from my heart: Yet what I can I will; by heaven! I will.

ROLFE. Why, cheerly said; the baby Resolution Will grow apace; time will work wonders in him.

PERCY. Did she not, after interchange of vows-- But let the false one go, I will forget her.

Your hand, my friend; now will I act the man.

ROLFE. Faith, I have seen thee do 't, and burn'd with shame, That he who so could fight should ever sigh.

PERCY. Think'st thou our captain lives?

ROLFE. Tush! he must live; He was not born to perish so. Believe 't, He'll hold these dingy devils at the bay, Till we come up and succour him.

PERCY. And yet A single arm against a host--alas!

I fear me he has fallen.

ROLFE. Then never fell A n.o.bler soul, more valiant, or more worthy, Or fit to govern men. If he be gone, Heaven save our tottering colony from falling!

But see, th' adventurers from their daily toil.

_Enter adventurers, WALTER, LARRY, ROBIN, ALICE, &c._

WALTER. Now, gentlemen labourers, a l.u.s.ty roundelay after the toils of the day; and then to a sound sleep, in houses of our own building.

_Roundelay Chorus._

Now crimson sinks the setting sun, And our tasks are fairly done.

Jolly comrades, home to bed, Taste the sweets by labour shed; Let his poppy seal your eyes, Till another day arise, For our tasks are fairly done, As crimson sinks the setting sun.

ACT II.

SCENE I. _Inside the palace at Werocomoco. POWHATAN in state, GRIMOSCO, &c., his wives, and warriors, ranged on each side. Music._

POWHATAN. My people, strange beings have appeared among us; they come from the bosom of the waters, amid fire and thunder; one of them has our war-G.o.d delivered into our hands: behold the white being!

_Music. SMITH is brought in; his appearance excites universal wonder; POCAHONTAS expresses peculiar admiration._

POCAHONTAS. O Nima! is it not a G.o.d!

POWHATAN. Miami, though thy years are few, thou art experienced as age; give us thy voice of counsel.

MIAMI. Brothers, this stranger is of a fearful race of beings; their barren hunting grounds lie beneath the world, and they have risen, in monstrous canoes, through the great water, to spoil and ravish from us our fruitful inheritance. Brothers, this stranger must die; six of our brethren have fall'n by his hand. Before we lay their bones in the narrow house, we must avenge them: their unappeased spirits will not go to rest beyond the mountains; they cry out for the stranger's blood.

NANTAQUAS. Warriors, listen to my words; listen, my father, while your son tells the deeds of the brave white man. I saw him when 300 of our fiercest chiefs formed the warring around him. But he defied their arms; he held lightning in his hand. Wherever his arm fell, there sunk a warrior: as the tall tree falls, blasted and riven, to the earth, when the angry Spirit darts his fires through the forest. I thought him a G.o.d; my feet grew to the ground; I could not move!