Loudly he cry'd for help: Arsaces heard,
And thro' the swelling waves he rush'd to save
His drowning Brother, and gave him life;
And for the boon the Ingrate pays him hate.

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Phraates. There's something in the wind, for I 've observ'd Of late he much frequents the Queen's apartment,

And fain would court her favour. Wild is she

To gain revenge for fell Vonones' death,
And firm resolves the ruin of Arsaces,

Because that, fill'd with filial piety,

To save his Royal Sire he struck the bold
Presumptuous Traitor dead: nor heeds she

The hand which gave her Liberty, nay rais'd her
Again to Royalty.

Thou hell-born fiend, how horrid is thy form!

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The Gods sure let thee loose to scourge mankind,
And save them from an endless waste of thunder.

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Phraates. Yet I 've beheld this now so haughty Queen
Bent with distress and e'en by pride forsook,
When following thy Sire's triumphant car;
Her tears and ravings mov'd the senseless herd,
And pity blest their more than savage breasts
With the short pleasure of a moments softness.
Thy Father, conquer'd by her charms (for what

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Can charm like mourning beauty?), soon struck off

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Her chains, and rais'd her to his bed and throne;

Adorn'd the brows of her aspiring Son,

The fierce Vonones, with the regal crown

Of rich Armenia, once the happy rule

Of Tisaphernes, her deceased Lord.

Golarzes. And he in wasteful war return'd his thanks, 130 Refus'd the homage he had sworn to pay,

And spread Destruction ev'ry where around, "Til from Arsaces hand he met the fate

His crimes deserv'd.

Phraates.

As yet your princely Brother
Has scap'd Thermusa's rage; for, still residing
In peaceful times within his Province, ne'er
Has fortune blest her with a sight of him

On whom she'd wreck her vengeance.

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Golarzes.

She has won

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By spells, I think, so much on my fond father

That he is guided by her will alone.

She rules the realm; her pleasure is a law;

All offices and favours are bestow'd

As she directs.

Phraates.

But see, the Prince Vardanes;

Proud Lysias with him, he whose soul is harsh

With jarring discord. Nought but madding rage
And ruffian-like revenge his breast can know;
Indeed, to gain a point he 'll condescend
To mask the native rancour of his heart,
And smooth his venom'd tongue with flattery:
Assiduous now he courts Vardanes' friendship-
See how he seems to answer all his gloom,
And give him frown for frown.

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Gotarzes.

1759.

Let us retire,

And shun them now: I know not what it means,

But chilling horror shivers o'er my limbs

When Lysias I behold.

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1765.

ROBERT ROGERS

FROM

PONTEACH

OR THE SAVAGES OF AMERICA

ACT I. 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

5

That Gains are small and Profits come but slow.

M'Dole. Are you experienc'd 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:

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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.

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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. 'T is very well; your Articles are good:

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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.

Murphey. How! Not a Sin to cheat an Indian, say you?

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Are they not Men? hav 'nt they a Right to Justice

As well as we, though savage in their Manners?

M'Dole. Ah! If you boggle here, I say no more:

This is the very Quintessence of Trade,

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And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it;
None who neglect it ever did grow rich,
Or ever will or can, by Indian Commerce.
By this old Ogden built his stately House,
Purchas'd Estates, and grew a little King.
He, like an honest Man, bought all by Weight,
And made the ign'rant Savages believe
That his Right Foot exactly weigh'd a Pound:
By this for many Years he bought their Furs,

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And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer.

Murphey. Well, I 'll not stick at what is necessary;

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More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs.
This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand,

Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant,
Which makes them think me generous and just,
And gives full Scope to practise all my Art.

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I then begin my Trade with water'd Rum:

The cooling Draught well suits their scorching Throats;
Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return.
My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd
That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One,
Which they, poor silly Souls, ignorant of Weights
And Rules of Balancing, do not perceive.

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But here they come: you 'll see how I proceed.
Jack, is the Rum prepar 'd as I commanded?

Jack. Yes, Sir, all 's ready when you please to call.
M'Dole. Bring here the Scales and Weights immediately.
You see the Trick is easy and conceal'd.

[Shewing how to slip the Scales.
Murphey. By Jupiter, it 's artfully contriv'd;
And was I King, I swear I 'd knight th' Inventor.
Tom, mind the Part that you will have to act.

Tom. Ah, never fear, I 'll do as well as Jack.
But then, you know, an honest Servant's Pains
Deserves Reward.

Murphey. O, I'll take care of that.

Enter a Number of Indians, with Packs of Fur.

Ist Indian. So, what, you trade with Indians here to-day? M'Dole. Yes, if my Goods will suit, and we agree. 2d Indian. "T is Rum we want: we 're tired, hot, and thirsty. 3d Indian. You, Mr. Englishman, have you got Rum? M'Dole. Jack, bring a Bottle; pour them each a Gill. You know which Cask contains the Rum. The Rum?

Ist Indian. It's good strong Rum; I feel it very soon. M'Dole. Give me a Glass. Here's Honesty in Trade: We English always drink before we deal.

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2d Indian. Good Way enough; it makes one sharp and cunning.
M'Dole. Hand round another Gill. You 're very welcome.
3d Indian. Some say you Englishmen are sometimes Rogues: 85

You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.

Ist Indian. No, English good. The Frenchmen give no Rum. 2d Indian. I think it's best to trade with Englishmen.

M'Dole. What is your Price for Beaver Skins per Pound?

1st Indian. How much you ask per Quart for this strong Rum? 90 M'Dole. Five Pounds of Beaver for One Quart of Rum.

1st Indian. Five Pounds? Too much. Which is 't you call Five Pound?

M'Dole. This little Weight. I cannot give you more.

1st Indian. Well, take 'em; weigh 'em. Don't you cheat us now.
M'Dole. No: He that cheats an Indian should be hang'd.
[Weighing the Packs.

There's Thirty Pounds precisely of the Whole;
Five times Six is Thirty. Six Quarts of Rum.
Jack, measure it to them; you know the Cask.
This Rum is sold. You draw it off the best.

[Exeunt Indians to receive their Rum.
Murphey. By Jove, you 've gained more in a single Hour

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100

Than ever I have done in Half a Year.

Curse on my Honesty! I might have been
A little King and liv'd without Concern,

Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.

M'Dole. Ay, there's the Way, my honest Friend, to live!

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[Clapping his Shoulder.

There's Ninety Weight of Sterling Beaver for you,

Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;

And would my Conscience let me do the Thing,

I might enhance my Price and lessen theirs

And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.

Murphey. I can't but thank you for your kind Instructions,

As from them I expect to reap Advantage.

But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,

They are malicious and would have Revenge.

ΙΙΟ

M'Dole. Can't you avoid them? Let their Vengeance light 115

On others Heads, no matter whose, if you

Are but secure and have the Gain in Hand;

For they 're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,
Whether on him that cheated or his Friend,
Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,
Perhaps an honest Peasant who ne'er dreamt
Of Fraud or Villainy in all his Life.
Such let them murder, if they will, a Score;
The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,
Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.

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125

[Exeunt.