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Liberty Aſſerted. A TRAGEDY. As it is Acted at the NEW THEATRE IN Little Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.

Written by Mr. DENNIS.

LONDON: Printed for George Strahan at the Golden Ball, againſt the Royal Exchange, in Cornhill; and Bernard Lintott at the Middle-Temple-Gate in Fleetſtreet. 1704. Price 1s. 6d.

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Liberty Aſſerted.

A TRAGEDY.

TO ANTHONY HENLEY, Eſq

[]
SIR,

THIS Play of Liberty Aſſerted, is by the right of Nature Yours, not only as You are a zealous Lover of Your Country, and a generous Aſſertor of Liberty, but as it owes its Birth and its very Being to You. For it was You, Sir, who gave the happy Hint upon which this Poem was form'd; from You [...] from a Source of noble Sentiments it deſcended to Me, and 'tis from Me that with a juſt Ambition it aſcends to You.

If I had had the Happineſs to be nearer to You during the time that I was writing this Tragedy; if, as I at firſt receiv'd the Hint from You, I could have receiv'd Your Inſtructions about the Deſign and the Working of the Scenes, the Faults in this Poem had then been fewer; and the Preſent more worthy You. But I know that the Nobleneſs of Your Engliſh Principles will oblige You to excuſe its Faults, on Conſideration of the juſt Intention with the which it was writ; and that was no leſs than to do good to Your Country; to open the Eyes of deluded Men, to inſpire them with the Love of Liberty, and unite and animate them againſt the Common Foe of Europe. But yet, if at laſt I did not flatter my ſelf that this [] Play had many more Beauties than Faults, You ſhould be the very laſt Perſon to whom I would chuſe to addreſs it. If You appear to be of the ſame Opinion, I have gain'd the chief Ends which I propoſe to my ſelf in Writing, and that is to do a little Good, to diſtinguiſh my ſelf by what I write, and by thoſe to whom I addreſs my ſelf. I ſhall look upon Your Approbation as a glorious Earneſt of Fame, for Truth will be ſure at laſt to prevail; and that which we call Taſte in Writing, is nothing but a fine Diſcernment of Truth. But as Truth muſt be always one, and always the ſame to all who have Eyes to diſcern it; he who pleaſes one of a true Taſte at firſt, is ſure of pleaſing all the World at laſt. But I who have ſometimes had the Honour to hear You talk of Criticiſm, have been a long time throughly convinc'd that from an Intimacy with the Ancients, and a juſt Knowledge of the Moderns, You have form'd that fine and admirable Taſte, which is ſo rarely found among us. But I ought to conſider that while I commend it, I may perhaps diſpleaſe it, and ought in Diſcretion to ſay no more. I am,

SIR,
Your moſt humble, and moſt obedient Servant, JOHN DENNIS.

PREFACE.

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AS the Entertainments of our Theatres are publick, and ſupported by publick Authority, it is but juſt that the Inſtruction, which is the ultimate end of them, ſhould tend to the publick Advantage. 'Tis true, indeed, the Stage, by correcting particular Perſons, has a natural tendency to the improving the Publick. But when, I ſay, that the Publick ought to receive Advantage from the Entertainments of our Theatres, I mean, that it ought to do ſo immediately, and that the Inſtructions which we receive from the Stage ought to be for the Benefit of the lawful eſtabliſh'd Government.

That this was the Caſe among the Athenians appears plain to me; and the reaſon why they ſettled ſo vaſt a Fund upon the Tragick Stage, was becauſe they regarded it as the very Barrier of Liberty, which it ſupported by expoſing the Misfortunes of Tyrants, and the Calamities that attended upon Arbitrary Pow'r. And it ſeems to me to be for this reaſon that they had that high Eſteem for Oedipus, and were at ſo uncommon an Expence in the Decoration of it, becauſe both the Crimes and the Calamities of Oedipus were the Conſequences of his aſſuming unlimited Pow'r. 'Tis true, he kill'd his Father before he came to be King, but it was by aſcending the Throne that he committed Inceſt, and that he came to the knowledge of what he had done; and had he continued a private Man, he had neither known the Guilt of his Actions, nor had he felt the Puniſhment of them.

As the Athenians had Liberty with a Common-wealth, the Engliſh enjoy the very ſame Liberty under the Government of the beſt of Queens, and in ſo doing are the happieſt People in the World. I thought therefore that I could not do a thing that would be more acceptable to all true Engliſhmen, than to caſ [...] in my Mite towards the defending and ſupporting of that Liberty.

[] That the Liberties of Europe, and of this Iſland particularly, are in no ſmall Danger at preſent from the growing Power of France, will be eaſily granted by all but ſuch who are either Fools or Knaves too incorrigible to be talk'd too. But this is plain, that they are not ſo much in danger, from what ſome call the Greatneſs of the French, as from the Baſeneſs of the reſt of Europe. If we were but as true to Liberty, as the French are to Tyranny, they would ſoon be as deſpicable in their Circumſtances as they are now in their Principles. 'Tis the want of publick Spirit that ruins us, and the Deſign of this Tragedy is to inculcate that, this being its important Moral; that the want of publick Spirit in the Members of any Community makes not only the publick, but very often thoſe private Perſons who want it very unhappy; that whoeven ſells or betrays his Country either to a foreign Tyrant, as ſome of the Confederates, or to a home-bred one, as the whole Body of the French do; whoever does this upon the account of advancing his Family, which is the general Motive to ſuch publick Treaſons, is ſure to have himſelf and his Family ſuffer with the reſt, and perhaps with the foremoſt. And this Moral is prov'd by the Dramatick Action both ways. It ſhews a Man who makes a Treaty with the French upon private Intereſt, made by that Treaty the moſt wretched of Mankind, of the happieſt that he was before; and it ſhews the very Frenchman who breaks it, about to be plung'd by the Breach of it, in the moſt deplorable Calamity; and it ſhews ſomething farther too, that the French, who are the Inſtruments of promoting Tyranny upon a private Intereſt, are ſo only becauſe they are ſo far blinded by their Paſſions, that they know not what they do; that is, they know not that they are ſacrificing to their Tyrant their very Children and Families, for whoſe Support they pretend to act; that if their other Paſſions did not conccal this from them, all of them who have any thing of natural Affection, would be ſo far from being guilty of ſo unnatural a Villany, that they would immediately declare for Liberty.

Some People may perhaps admire, that I who have been accus'd of repeating the ſame thing in the Play, the Prologue and Epilogue, ſhould yet appear to be farther guilty of that very Fault in the Preface. To whom I anſwer, That ſince after all the Care I had taken in the Play, the Prologue and Epilogue, to aſſure the World [] that this was an Engliſh and not a Party Play; there were ſome malicious enough to affirm that this was a Play writ purpoſely to oblige the Whigs, I thought it lay upon me to prove what I had affirm'd before, that this was not a Whig but an Engliſh Play, which I ſhall manifeſtly, I believe, make out, unleſs they will urge, that becauſe it is an Engliſh therefore it is a Whiggiſh Play.

If this Play is writ for a Party, why then it muſt be writ againſt a Party. Now it will be pretty plain from what has been ſaid above, conſidered with the Play it ſelf, that the Deſign of this Tragedy is to make Men in Love with Liberty, by ſhewing them that nothing can be more according to Nature, and by ſhewing this not by ſuch forcible and extraordinary Arguments as require more than ordinary Penetration to be underſtood, for that has been already done ſo incomparably by Mr. Lock that nothing need or can be added to it; but by ſomething ſo plain that ev'ry Underſtanding is capable of it, and that is, by the moſt Tender of all Sentiments which Nature has implanted in the Minds of Men, and that is, the Love of their Children. The Party therefore that this Play was writ to oblige, are all thoſe who have any concern for their Country, their Religion, their Relations, their Friends and their Children; and the Party it was writ againſt, are all thoſe who care not one farthing for any or all of theſe. Now I would give a good deal to behold ſo abominable a Wretch as to own himſelf of ſuch a Party.

He who writes for a Party writes for Intereſt; now I would fain ask any one where can be my Intereſt in writing for the Party for which it is ſuppoſed that I write. The firſt thing that I wrote which had relation to the Publick was a Poem call'd The Court of Death, in which I lamented the Death of the late Queen of happy and glorious Memory. And tho' both the Deſign and Spirit of that Poem were thought by ſome of the beſt Judges, to be above the common level of Poetry, yet I was almoſt the only Perſon of all the Writers who appear'd upon that Subject, of whom the Court took no notice. My Friends can bear me Witneſs that I was ſo far from being mortified at it, that I was reſolv'd to perſevere in what I thought my Duty, and of all the foreſaid Writers I was afterwards [] the only Perſon who bewail'd the Death of the late King in the ſame publick manner that I had before lamented that of his Royal Conſort. I had almoſt the ſame Fortune with that Poem that I had with the former: It brought me indeed a little more Reputation, but juſt as much Advantage.

He who after this could be induc'd to expect any thing from thoſe whom they call the Whigs, muſt be of a more ſanguine Temper than I am. I know indeed that there are a great many People whom they call Whigs, who are really Engliſhmen, and to oblige Engliſhmen I ſhall be always proud, by what Names ſoever they may be diſtinguiſhed; By a real Engliſhman I mean one who is for the preſent Eſtabliſhment, and the Proteſtant Succeſſion, upon the view of the good of his Countrey, and his own no farther than as it depends on the other.

But upon the firſt acting this Tragedy there were not wanting ſome worthy Perſons who made it their Buſineſs to report about the Town that it was a Republican Play. Now to give them an Anſwer to which nothing can be replyed, I have ordered the laſt Scene of the Play to be printed, which on the account of Length was left out in Acting, tho' it yet remains in the Play-houſe-copy. At the ſame time I deſire the Reader to believe, that I am not ſuch a Fool to contend for Names but for Things; that Liberty is Liberty under a limited Monarchy, as much as under a Common-wealth; that we enjoy enough under the preſent Queen to make us the happieſt of People; that I have as high a Veneration for Her as any Subject She has, and would venture as much to ſerve Her, becauſe I am perfectly convinc'd, that all that She aims at by Her perpetual Care and the Wiſdom of Her Conduct, is to ſupport and defend theſe Liberties which Her glorious Predeceſſour deliver'd to us; and which 'tis the Buſineſs of this Play to aſſert and vindicate. So that the Deſign of this Tragedy being only to promote the good Intentions of the Queen, it is more Her Intereſt than it is any Perſons in England that it ſhould make the Impreſſion which it was deſign'd to make; tho' I believe it at the ſame time to be the Intereſt of ev'ry Perſon in England, excepting thoſe who are wiſhing for a French Government or contriving to bring it in.

This is not the firſt time that ſince Her Majeſties happy Acceſſion [] to Her Throne I have endeavour'd to ſerve Her. And all the world knows that it is not my Fault that I have not done Her a moſt important Service. * Had that been done, there had been no need of writing the following Tragedy. There had been no need of firing People with the Love of Liberty, or animating them againſt the common Foe. Had that been done the Liberties of Europe and our own had been ſufficiently ſecur'd.

I know very well that the foregoing Declaration is not over politick; that to declare for the Publick againſt Parties is to make no Friends. I am perfectly convinc'd that if I could be brought to eſpouſe any Party warmly, that Party might be brought to eſpouſe me, but that till I make that ſtep I muſt be left to my ſelf; of this, I ſay, I am perfectly convinc'd, and yet notwithſtanding that Conviction, I hope in God I ſhall not change my Conduct.

The Succeſs of this Play has been ſo favourable notwithſtanding Malice and ill Accidents; it has had the Felicity of having ſo many illuſtrious Voices for it, that I may ſpare my ſelf the Trouble of anſwering Objections. However, ſince good Manners appear to be concern'd in two of them, I ſhall ſay a word to thoſe.

The firſt is, that there are in this Play National Reflections, which ought not to be made. To which I anſwer, that I plainly perceive that the Art of the following Tragedy is by no means all underſtood. That part of it conſiſts in this, that what ſome miſtake for a National Satyr, is only a Satyr upon Arbitrary Power, a Satyr upon the Government of the French, and not upon their Manners as they proceed from their Climate. The French are in themſelves a brave and a gallant Nation; but the Submiſſion which they fondly pay to unlimited Power has plung'd them in Vices which their Natures abhor, and render'd them odious and deſpicable. To ſhew this, I have introduced the Characters of two Frenchmen, Frontenac and Miramont, who are both of them Men of Honour; but the difference between them is this, that Miramont, who declares againſt Arbitrary Pow'r, is altogether without Blemiſh, and the Faults and Defects in Frontenac's Character, are plainly deriv'd [] from his Zeal for their preſent Government.

The other Objection is this, that the Satyr in the Ambaſſadors Scene is too courſe for delicate Ears. I know it very well, and in complaiſance to ſome Gentlemen whom I eſteem, I order'd it to be left out after the firſt Night, but I have printed it with the reſt becauſe they who do not like it may turn over it, and becauſe it is likely to be ſubſervient to the end for which this Poem was writ, and that is, to animate our Engliſh againſt the French; for I believe it may not be unacceptable to ſome honeſt downright Engliſhmen, who while we and the French are cutting one anothers Throats, will not take it ill, that we do it without Ceremony.

The Scene of this Tragedy lies at Agnie in Canada; which, for the ſake of the better ſound, I call Angie. Canada is a vaſt Tract of Land in Northern America, on the Back of New England and New York. As New England and New York, and the Country about them belong to the Engliſh, a conſiderable part of Canada is poſſeſs'd by the French; and as the Engliſh and French divide the Country, they divide the Natives. The moſt conſiderable Nation of Canada, next to the Iroquois, are the Hurons, who are Friends to the French. But the five Warlike Nations of the Iroquois are our Confederates; of thoſe five Nations, Agnies or Angies is one; and the chief Place of the Nation is Agnie or Angie, and thus much I thought fit to premiſe for the Sake of thoſe who have never read either Hennepin or La Hontan.

But now it will be convenient to ſay a word concerning the Scenes as they are mark'd in the printed Play, and here by the word Scene, I do not mean ſo much the Place, as the Number of Perſons who are in Action upon that Place at a time. I have therefore diſtinguiſh'd the Scenes in the following Play, as they have been always diſtinguiſh'd by the Ancients and by the Moderns of other Countries, and by our own Ben. Johnſon. Any Perſon who comes upon the Place of Action, or leaves it, makes a different Scene, and that new Scene is mark'd by the Figure of its reſpective Number, and the Names of the Perſons who are upon the Place of Action. I thought that agreeable Deluſion into which the Reader willingly and gladly enters, for the ſake of his Pleaſure, would be both greater and eaſier if he were not put in mind [] of a Stage by Entrances and Exits, which are nothing but Direrections that are given to a Play Houſe Prompter.

The Deſign of this Play was much improv'd by the Remonſtrances which I receiv'd from my valued Friend Mr. Southern, who beſides his Zeal to do good to his Friends, and a noble Sincerity, uncommon among the Writers of this Age, by the ex tempore Remarks which he made upon my reading this Play to him in a very haſty manner, ſhew'd at once ſo much penetrating Quickneſs, as well as ſo much Solidity, and ſo much ſureneſs, as could belong to no Man but one who has a thorough Underſtanding of Nature, and who has that admirable Talent for touching the Paſſions which he has ſhewn in his Tragedies. I muſt own the Obligation too which I have to Mr. Betterton for the Hints I received from him, as well as for his excellent Action.

This Play indeed receiv'd all the Grace and Ornament of Action in moſt of the principal Parts, and in all the Womens. But that of Sakia by Mrs. Barry was acted ſo admirably and inimitably, as that no Stage in Europe can boaſt of any thing that comes near to her Performance; or if the Foreign Stages can ſhew any thing like it, they are at leaſt prodigiouſly improv'd ſince I was upon the Continent. That incomparable Actreſs changing like Nature which ſhe repreſents, from Paſſion to Paſſion, from Extream to Extream, with piercing Force, and with [...] Grace, changes the Hearts of all who ſee her with irreſiſtible Pleaſure.

ERRATA.

Page 33. for commends read commands. p. 38. for the glorious Sphears, r. that glorious Sphear. p. 56. for more at variance, r. ne'er at variance. p. 63. for again is an, r. again in an.

PROLOGUE.

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Spoke by Mr. Betterton.
THIS of deep Tragedies is ſure the Age,
When Mars each day diſplays with ſwelling Rage
His bloody Scenes upon the Worlds great Stage.
Ye Brittons, from your Thames's Silver Flood
Turn, turn your Eyes to Streams diſtain'd with Blood;
And to diſcover Scenes of mortal Woe,
Survey the Rhine, the Danube and the Poe.
No fancy'd Tragedies are acting there,
There the diſtracted Native rends his Hair,
And ſhrieks and wrings his Hands in true Deſpair.
While no vexatious Griefs to you are known,
But here you meet t'attend our pleaſing moan,
And gently figh with Sorrow not your own.
By grateful Turns, with Fear and Pity ſeiz'd,
And when moſt terrify'd are then moſt pleas'd;
But Tragick Scenes may come where this Delight
Shall yield to Horrour and to mortal Fright:
When impious Mars ſhall with a dreadful Roar
Deſcend to viſit pale Britannia's Shore.
Already Treaſon whiſpers come away,
And clamorous Diſcord cries make no delay.
That Hour would ſhew a Tragedy indeed,
Whoſe ſad Spectators would not weep but bleed.
Which to prevent all Patriots ſhould contend,
Theſe Scenes were wrought to ſerve ſo juſt an end;
To ſhew our inbred Foes ere 'tis too late
That they and theirs muſt ſhare the common Fate.
For France its Blood exhauſts, its Wealth expends
T'obtain its own and not our Plotters ends.
They who their Country for themſelves enthrall,
Will ſee themſelves and Children with it fall.
Would they reflect on this while yet they may
Themſelves and Children they would ne'er betray,
As in the following Scenes we ſhew to Day.
For what Remains—
To pleaſe and to inſtruct we've done our beſt,
Then boldly let us make this juſt Requeſt,
With ſilent care to the firſt Act attend,
Then you with Pleaſure may perhaps unbend.

EPILOGUE.

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THus have we ſhewn what we propos'd to ſhew,
All would fall off from Tyrants did they know,
That with their wretched Country they betray
Themſelves and Children to tyrannick Sway.
They who plac'd haughty Lewis on the Throne
Would have declar'd againſt Him, had they known
That their Soul's Darlings by his dire Commands
In Torments ſhould expire by bloody Hands,
Or live a baniſh'd Race in Foreign Lands.
The fierceſt Creatures that the Woods contain
What they bring forth with pleaſing Love maintain.
That Love the Lyon ſoftens, and the Bear,
The Worlds ſupported by that tender Care,
All Savages but Men their Offspring ſpare.
But Man, grown blind by Luſt, of Pow'r or Pelf,
Will ſell his Darling Offspring and himſelf.
To reclaim ſuch our Author bad me ſay
He wrote this Engliſh and no Party Play:
He minds not who's of Whig or Tory Clan
But who for Lewis is, or who for ANN?
For the ſame Friends have Lawleſs Rage and He,
As ANN has the ſame Foes with Liberty.
Oh may ſhe long command theſe happy Iſles!
Where ſhe with Freedom Empire reconciles!
Long o'er your Hearts may yon bright Circle, Reign
Oh may you never feel a ruder Chain!
And of no other Tyranny complain!
But Beauties Reign on Liberty depends
When the French Reign begins, the Reign of Beauty ends,
The French are Slaves to Man's Deſpotick Sway,
But with Prophaneſs acted every Day
They force Celeſtial Beauty to obey.

Dramatis Perſonae.

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MEN.
Frontenac, Governour of New France.
By Mr. Bowman.
Miramont, his Kinſman.
By Mr. Betterton.
Beaufort, General of the Engliſh that come to the Aſſiſtance of the Iroquois againſt the French.
By Mr. Powell.
Ulamar, General of the five Nations of the Iroquois.
By Mr. Booth.
Zephario, Head of the Angians, one of the five Nations of the Iroquois.
By Mr. Freeman.
Arimat an Angian.
 
Two Ambaſſadors.
 
  • Officers, Guards, Meſſengers.
WOMEN.
Sakia, Mother to Ulamar.
By Mrs. Barry.
Irene, Daughter to Zephario.
By Mrs. Bracegirdle.
Okima, Confident to Sakia.
By Mrs. Porter.
SCENE Angie in Canada.

Liberty Aſſerted.

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ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE, Angie in Canada.
SCENE I.

Sakia and Okima.
Sak.
SPeak on,
Thy Looks ſeem big with ſomething that's important.
Okim.
Then briefly thus:
Beaufort, that jointly with your valiant Son,
Led forth his Engliſh, and our Iroquois,
To ſtop th' Incurſions of the French and Hurons,
Is juſt from our Confederate Troops arriv'd.
Sak.
Alas! how fares my Ulamar?
Okim.
Before the Sun which now declines is ſett,
You may expect to hear it from himſelf,
For Beaufort left him juſt prepar'd to follow.
Sak.
Now the great Mind be praiſed!
My Son has loſt then, and the French are Victors.
Okim.
No, my Sakia,
The Ruler of the World is not ſo partial,
Nor are the Guardian Spirits ſo remiſs,
Which hover with their golden Wings o'er Canada:
Your lovely Son, th' auſpicious Ulamar,
No leſs the Darling is of Heav'n than ours.
A thouſand French and Hurons pale and breathleſs,
[2] Extended on yon Plain proclaim him Victor,
And in the bloody Bus'neſs of the Day.
No ſingle Arm dealt Fate ſo much as Ulamar's.
Sak.
Ah! wretched me! thou haſt rowz'd all my Griefs.
Okim.
How, my Sabia?
Is your Son's Triumph then become your Grief?
His Death had been your Joy then?
Sak.
Ah no! thou know'ſt I dote upon my Ulamar,
And when the Graces of his Mind and Perſon,
With Reaſon's Eye ſeverely I ſurvey,
Reaſon ſeverely judging yet aſſures me,
That I have cauſe for all the Mother's Fondneſs:
Yet know, my Okima,
His Death and Victory I fear'd alike.
Okim.
You utter Myſteries beyond my Reach.
Sak.
Thou know'ſt my Son, that with the generous Beaufort
Now leads the bloody Iroquois to Battel,
No Iroquois by Birth, no Native is of Angie.
Okim.
I know you both indeed by Birth are Hurons.
Sak.
Hurons we once were call'd, and once were thought
To be deſcended from no Vulgar Stock,
But now, alas! are ſunk to wretched Slaves
Okim.
To Slaves, Sakia!
Your Son at leaſt has other Sentiments.
Sak.
Howe'er alas, my Son may be deceiv'd,
I am a Slave, a miſerable Slave;
Who far remov'd from my ſweet Native Soil,
Far from the dearer Partner of my Heart,
Have for twelve tedious Years been now confin'd
To drag the galling Yoke of loathſome Life,
In this accurſed Place:
A Burthen which I never could ſupport,
But that I had ſome glimpſe of Hope remaining;
That cruel Fortune might at length relent,
And might at length reſtore me with my Ulamar,
To the dear Partner of my faithful Heart:
Thoſe Hopes have lately been reviv'd and animated
By the prophetick Viſions of the Night,
[3] And Expectation of this fatal Action;
But this Relation has o'erthrown them all:
My Son's miſtaken Valour has undone us,
And thou, O Miramont, art loſt for ever!
Okim.
Forget your Hurons and become an Angian.
Sak.
O may the whole accurſed Race by Fate
Be rooted ev'n from Human Memory!
Periſh their very Names too with their Perſons,
Excepting thine, for thou art wondrous good.
Okim.
Sakia, you forget,
To curſe your Benefactors thus is impious.
Sak.
To curſe our mortal Enemies is juſt.
Okim.
The Angians are your Friends and your Defenders.
Sak.
My Country's mortal Enemies are mine.
Okim.
Iroquian Angie is your Country now.
Sak.
My Priſon never can be call'd my Country.
Okim.
The Angians gave you Liberty at firſt;
The Hour that made you Captives, ſaw you free.
Sak.
Why am I then with my unhappy Son
Detain'd e'er ſince in this deteſted Clime,
Enjoying nothing but the Name of Liberty,
Which hourly brings the thing to my Remembrance,
And makes the Yoke of Slav'ry wring me more?
Know that I'm not deluded by a Word,
And ev'n this Shadow of the Angians Favour
Is due to the Requeſt of generous Beaufort;
For he the fatal Expedition led,
To which I owe this long Captivity,
To which I owe a twelve Years mortal Woe
Confin'd by barbarous Iroquois to Angie;
Which may juſt Heav'n by ſharpeſt Plagues revenge!
Okim.
You curſe the Victors, Heav'n has curſt the vanquiſh'd.
Sak.
Now they are Conquerors I'll hate them more.
Okim.
Think that our Conqueſt to your Son we owe,
Then curſe us if you can.
Sak.
Therefore the barbarous Iroquois I curſe.
Okim.
Upon your Son's account you ought to bleſs us,
Think on our Bounties heap'd upon his Head.
Sak.
[4]
Think on the Trophies by his Valour won,
With which tenfold your Bounty he repays.
Okim.
'Tis to our Favour that he owes his Glory,
Which, tho' he ſcarce has reach'd his twentieth Year,
Surpaſſes that of all our ancient Warriours.
Sak.
'Tis by his Glory you exiſt, but he
To Fortune and himſelf his Glory owes,
And the Inſtructions of the generous Beaufort.
Okim.
Leading our Forces he acquir'd his Fame.
Sak.
Yes, againſt the Hurons,
Our Obligations there indeed are great,
For cauſing him to turn his fatal Sword
Upon the bleeding Bowels of his Country,
And its Confederate Friends the Warlike French;
Who for ſtrong Reaſons ought to be moſt dear to him.
Okim.
Poorly your partial Mind affects the French,
While he deteſts the falſe perfidious Race,
And threatens to extirpate all thoſe gay,
But rank and filthy Weeds from Canada;
Which lately crept uſurping thro' the Corn,
T'oppreſs the genuine and the noble Seed.
Sak.
Tho know'ſt him not, he's ignorant of himſelf,
And both are blind alike; but one Day Fate
Will diſſipate th' impenetrable Cloud
That now obſcures his Sight, and then too late
His fond and fatal Error he'll deteſt.
Okim.
But why!
For he who does his Duty, firſt muſt know it.
Sak.
But this he knows at preſent that the French
Are ſtrictly to his Countrymen ally'd,
Okim.
He owns no Country but Iroquian Angie,
Who to the French muſt prove eternal Foes.
Sak.
Time will inſtruct him better.
Okim.
Yes, for our Angie will become to morrow
His Country by a ſtricter dearer tie.
Sak.
What meaneſt thou?
Okim.
A Tie that will for ever fix him ours.
Sak.
Explain thy ſelf.
Okim.
[5]
To morrow's Sun, will ſee that Beauty his,
For whom the lovelieſt of our Indian Swains
Have ſigh'd and ſigh'd in vain.
Sak.
Thou mean'ſt the blooming Daughter of Zephario,
Head of th' Iroquian Tribes.
Okim.
Who can be meant but bleſt Irene, whom
Divided Canada conſents to adore,
And they who come from diſtant Climes admire?
The Adoration of two Worlds, the Engliſh,
To whom uncommon Beauty is familiar,
Aſtoniſh'd gaze at her amazing Form,
As at a Wonder never ſeen before.
Sak.
Yes, the brave Beaufort too admires Irene,
And to her lays an equal Claim with Ulamar;
And for that Reaſon thou art wrong inform'd,
For Angie dares not diſoblige the Engliſh.
Okim.
But when the rival Friends went out to Battel,
Thus ſaid the wiſe Zephario,
Ye matchleſs Friends, thou Beaufort and thou Ulamar,
Ye great and fair Supports of Liberty,
And Canada againſt a faithleſs Race,
Who have perfidiouſly ſurpriz'd our Angians,
And in full Peace with Sword and Fire attack'd them;
Lead forth our Arms againſt the perjur'd Foe,
And know that he who for the common Cauſe,
Againſt that Foe performs the nobleſt Deeds,
At his return ſhall call Irene his.
The Father ſaid, the charming Daughter bluſh'd,
And to the juſt Decree the Friends conſented.
Sak.
My Ulamar is not return'd from fight,
How can that Diff'rence be determin'd then?
Okim.
By the Relation of impartial Beaufort,
By which he owns that your unequall'd Son,
By his wiſe Conduct and his brave Example,
Sav'd both his Engliſh and our Iroquois.
Sak.
That was the Modeſty of generous Beaufort,
But when he own'd this was Irene preſent?
Okim.
Yes, and in ſpight of all her ſhy Demureneſs,
[6] Joy lighten'd on a ſudden from her Eyes,
Which ſtrugling ſhe ſuppreſt and bluſhing frown'd,
Or I'm miſtaken, or ſhe loves your Ulamar.
Sak.
Confuſion!
Okim.
Come, ſhe is worthy of the firſt of Men.
Sak.
'Tis true, ſo fair a Creature I ne'er ſaw.
Ev'n I, whom pow'rful Reaſons force to hate her,
Ev'n I with Pleaſure gaze upon her Face,
And viewing grow inſenſibly her Friend.
But may ſhe periſh e'er ſhe weds my Ulamar,
Nay, may they periſh both.
Okim.
To both you're cruel.
Sak.
No, for if once their Hands are join'd he's loſt,
To me and to the beſt of Fathers loſt,
Who lov'd him as the Darling of his Soul;
And to reſtore him to whoſe tender Arms,
I have endur'd to live thus long a Slave.
Okim.
But ſee, the noble Beaufort comes to attend you.

SCENE II.

Sakia, Okima, Beaufort.
Sak.
You're welcome, worthy Beaufort.
Okim.
They who bring Victory are always welcome.
Sak.
Had he been vanquiſh'd he had been more welcome.
Is Ulamar arriv'd?
Beauf.
Each Minute he's expected.
Sak.
Well, you have conquer'd then.
Beauf.
Yes; impartial Heav'n has heard our juſt Appeal,
And has ſupported Innocence and Faith,
Againſt Injuſtice, Treaſon, Violence,
Againſt Oppreſſion, Perjury and Fraud,
And all the Crimes of the perfidious French.
Sak.
They needs muſt conquer for whom Heav'n declares,
In ſpight of all the Valour of their Foes.
Beauf.
Madam, their Valour much you over rate,
They know themſelves, and to themſelves are juſt,
While they are falſe to all the World beſide.
They feel themſelves too guilty to be brave.
'Tis a ſhrewd Sign their Valour they miſtruſt,
[7] Who ſtill on Treaſon or on Odds depend.
But againſt Odds and Treaſons both we conquer'd,
Such Force deriv'd we from the juſt Diſdain
That Honour, Innocence, and heavenly Truth,
Should yield to Falſhood, and to Hell-born Crimes,
That Thought alone ſuſtain'd our ſinking Troops,
That Thought inflam'd them in extreme Diſtreſs,
When one of them cried ſuddenly aloud,
Lifting his wounded, wearied Arms to Heav'n,
Thou Maker of the World to whom we bow,
If it be Thou and not blind Chance that governs,
To thee we appeal, here manifeſt thy Juſtice.
Okim.
Now by that Pow'r thou haſt ſet my Soul on Fire,
What follow'd?
Beauf.
Not the laſt Trumpet that muſt rowſe the dead,
To them more ſudden Vigour ſhall convey,
Than did to ours that animating Voice,
All thought that Heav'n declar'd it ſelf aloud,
Strange Sights were ſeen, and wondrous Sounds were heard,
'Tis ſaid a Flame deſcended upon Ulamar,
And round his Temples ſpread its lambent Glory;
But this is ſure, his Deeds were more than Human.
And Conqueſt lightning in his Eyes, and Thundring in his Arm,
Rows'd all our Vigour in our fainting Troops,
And ſtruck a fatal Damp upon the Foe.
Sak.
Beaufort, thou art too partial to thy Friend.
Beauf.
I am not partial, I am barely juſt.
Sak.
He who is ſo magnanimouſly juſt,
Muſt have done greater Wonders of his own:
Do Juſtice to thy ſelf then.
Beauf.
What I perform'd I did not in the dark,
But Earth and conſcious Heav'n were both Spectators,
I therefore need not ſpeak.
Sak.
Remember the Reward.
Think on Irene.
Beauf.
She's always in my Thoughts.
Sak.
And do you love her?
Beauf.
Have I my ſight? To ſee her is to love her.
Sak.
[8]
And can you poorly quit her to another?
Beauf.
No, nor would I baſely win her.
Sak.
Yet you exalt your Rival to the Skies.
Beauf.
That Rival is your Son and is my Friend.
And ſtill is partial when he mentions me.
Sak.
Think of what Love requires.
Beauf.
There is a Duty due to Friendſhip too;
A thouſand Lovers worſhip fair Irene,
But who but I has ſuch a Friend as Ulamar?
Sak.
The greateſt Friendſhip you can ſhew my Son
Is to deprive him of this fatal Beauty.
I had rather ſee him in the Arms of Death,
Than of Zephario's Daughter.
Beauf.
But he had rather die than not poſſeſs her.
Sak.
Then let him die, no, let him live, ye Pow'rs!
But let him live without her.
You love Irene, tell me, would you win her?
Beauf.
I would, by Heav'n, but would not looſe my Ulamar.
Sak.
Then let us jointly urge him to deſiſt.
Beauf.
On what Pretence?
Sak.
On that of Gratitude.
The ſtrongeſt in the World to a brave Spirit,
Can he be ſaid to bear a grateful Mind,
Who ſtrives againſt his Benefactor's Bliſs?
Remind him of his Obligations.
Beauf.
What Obligations?
Sak.
He well remembers them tho' you forget,
Too generous Beaufort.
Who ſnatch'd the Dagger from his Infant Breaſt,
In that accurſed Hour that made us Captives?
When only we of all the Slaves were ſav'd.
Who forc'd the Iroquois to give us Liberty,
At leaſt a ſhew of Liberty?
Who ſince inſtructed him in glorious Arms?
Inſtructed him in European Arts?
To whoſe dear Friendſhip is his Glory owing,
His noble Acts, and his accompliſh'd Greatneſs?
Tell him aloud he owes all this to Beaufort.
Beauf.
[9]
Why ſhould I tell him this?
Sak.
To urge him,
By the remembrance of theſe mighty Benefits,
To quit his fond Pretenſions to Irene,
And not impeach his Happineſs, to whom,
Whate'er he has, whate'r he is he owes.
Beauf.
He owes his Greatneſs to himſelf alone,
And carries an Inſtructor in his Breaſt,
Beyond what all the World can e'er ſupply;
For Ulamar ſeems ſent expreſs from Heav'n.
To civilize this rugged Indian Clime;
But grant to me alone he ow'd his Greatneſs,
How baſe, how barb'rous would it be to upbraid him?
Beſides all this, how vain? for know your Sons
No vulgar Paſſion is that force acquires,
By juſt Degrees, and kindles into Flame;
His the firſt moment blaſted him, like Lightning
That falls from Heav'n when Jove with his own Fire,
That Tree that's ſacred to himſelf conſumes.
Sak.
I but too well remember it.
Beauf.
Immediately he had recourſe to me,
Who ſaw, and therefore lov'd Irene firſt;
Then Sorrow ſtreaming from his humid Eyes,
That ſparkled with Deſire, my Friend, ſays he,
I come to take my leave, for I muſt die,
Since only Death can make me juſt to Beaufort;
For only his cold Hand can quench the Flame
That is injurious to my Friend, to whom
The beſt of Mothers and my ſelf I owe,
And then I love, ſaid he, with faltring Tongue,
And with a Heart about to break with Grief,
I love Irene, and for Beaufort die.
Sak.
And how receiv'd you this?
Beauf
With ſome Surpriſe, but yet with firm Reſolve,
In height of Friendſhip not to be ſurpaſs'd,
But rather chuſe to hazard her than loſe
So faithful and ſo brave a Friend as Ulamar.
Sak.
O noble Friendſhip! Unexampl'd Rivalſhip!
[10] Were all thy Countrymen like thee, brave Beaufort,
The Sun himſelf in all his ſhining Round,
Since firſt his Progreſs from the Eaſt began,
Would ne'er have ſeen a greater nobler People.
But ſtill my Soul from this diſaſtrous Love
Forebodes much Miſchief.

SCENE III.

Sak. Okim. Beauf. Meſſengers, Shouts.
Beauf.
What Shouts of Joy are theſe?
Meſſ.
Juſt now victorious Ulamar's arriv'd,
And with theſe Shouts the joyful Angians welcome him.
Beauf.
Kind Heav'n be prais'd!
Meſſ.
Within an hour the Angians meet in Council,
Mean while your Friend attends you at your Houſe.
Sak.
O Heav'ns, my Son refuſes then to ſee me.
Meſſ.
The French by Ambaſſadors now proffer Peace,
Concerning which he would confer with you
Before the Council meets.
Beauf.
Tell him I come.

SCENE IV.

Sak. Okim. Beaufort.
Beauf.
This proffer'd Peace ſhall be refus'd with Scorn,
If I have any Credit with the Angians.
They proffer Peace!
Their frontleſs European Inſolence!
When Heav'n againſt their Perjuries declares,
And halting Vengeance like a Blood-hound, ſlow,
But ſtanch o'ertakes them with his deep mouth'd Cry,
Confounds their Treaſure, and their Troops conſumes;
Firſt they ſing Songs of Triumph for their Loſſes,
And then, forſooth, they give the World a Peace.
Oh! 'tis a bleſſed Peace that binds our Hands,
And leaves theirs looſe, whom neither plighted Faith,
Nor Vows, nor ſolemn'ſt Oaths could e'er reſtrain,
Strong Bonds, if Bonds perfidious Men could tie!
Sak.
[11]
Beaufort, To you I now a Suppliant come,
T'a thouſand Obligations add one more,
Which if you grant me not, the reſt are vain.
Beauf.
But name it and 'tis yours.
Sak.
Provide that I may with my Son confer
Before the Council meet; who will, I know, decide this famous Rivalſhip.
Beauf.
That, Madam, ſhall be my immediate Care,

SCENE V.

Sakia, Okima.
Sak.
Ah! Okima! I ſink, I die with Grief,
On this Important now depends my all;
For ſhould my Ulamar obſtruct this Peace,
And obſtinately ſhould eſpouſe Irene,
Then name a Wretch that's ſo accurſt as I.
Okim.
Come, you provoke th' indulgent Powers to leave you,
And loſe your Sons Advantage and your own;
For both you'll in this happy Marriage find.
Sak.
Once more thou know'ſt him not, nor he himſelf,
For hitherto within this wretched Breaſt,
From all the World I've kept th' important Myſtery.
But now my Spirit groans beneath its Load
And I would eaſe my over-burthen'd Soul.
Okim.
Diſcharge it then upon this faithful Breaſt.
Sak.
But firſt by that eternal Spirit ſwear,
Swear by that awful, that all-ſeeing Mind,
That conſcious is alone to the dread Secret,
To let no Time, nor Art, nor Force
Extort it from thy Mind.
Okim.
By that eternal conſcious Pow'r I ſwear.
Sak.
Know then my Son, who thinks himſelf a Huron,
And whom too thou believ'ſt of Indian Birth,
No Huron is, nor of Canadian Kind;
Know he deſcended of a Chriſtian Sire,
Young, valiant, beautiful, of noble Race.
Okim.
A Chriſtian! you amaze me! of what Nation?
Sak.
Conſult my Paſſions, and let thoſe inform thee.
Okim.
[12]
What ſay'ſt thou? Then by Nation he is French.
Sak.
French is his Nation, Miramont his Name.
Okim.
Why is this Secret from your Son conceal'd?
Sak.
Let Time and Fate reveal it to him.
Okim.
Why not his Mother?
Sak.
I dare not.
Okim.
What ſhould deter you?
Sak.
Know that my Guardian Spirit in my Dreams
Has more than once with fearful Threats forbid me.
Beſides, th' important Secret ſhould I tell,
Before my Son has ſeen and known his Father,
So deadly is his Hatred to the French,
The which, together with his Years grew up,
It might a criminal Averſion cauſe
To him who gave him Being; and beſides,
All hopes of Peace it ſurely would deſtroy:
For that upon his Sentiment depends,
But he who Angie to the World prefers,
Will do his utmoſt to obſtruct a Peace,
That needs muſt tear him from this curſed Clime.
He'll know that Peace will ſoon divnlge his Birth,
And knows the Angians never will endure
To have a Frenchman lead their Troops to Battel.
Beſides, ſhould Ulamar this Secret hear
Before he ſees and knows his noble Father,
It might produce an impious Thought of me.
Okim.
This is but one of thoſe fantaſtick Fears
To which long Melancholly makes you ſubject;
For why ſhould it produce that impious Thought?
Sak.
In ſecret Miramont and I were match'd,
And thrice three Years in Bonds clandeſtine liv'd;
In ſecret too I brought forth Ulamar;
And for three Years in private was he nurſt,
And five I bred him with me as my Slave,
By Miramont preſented to my Father,
And then your Angians made us real Captives.
When firſt my Husband's Hands and mine were join'd,
No Soul was conſcious to my plighted Troth,
But Heav'n, and Miramont, and the poor Prieſt.
[13] That kindly tied th' indiſſoluble Bond.
Should Miramont, avert it Heav'n, be gone
To that ſtrange Land where Souls departed dwell,
What Thoughts might ſuch a Tale produce in Ulamar?
Okim.
The Prieſt who join'd you might atteſt your Marriage.
Sak.
Long ſince, alas! that faithful Friend is dead.
Okim.
But why that tedious nine Years Myſtery?
Sak.
Know that my Miramont, of noble Race,
Was yet a younger Brother of his Houſe,
And therefore he depended on his King,
Now with that King thoſe haughty Prieſts have Pow'r,
Who ſtile themſelves Companions of their God,
And they, unleſs I would embrace their Faith,
Forbad all Nuptial League 'twixt me and Miramont,
Upon the penance of his King's Diſpleaſure.
Okim.
When you were taken where was Miramont?
Sak.
He then was in a diſtant Fort beſieg'd,
Which for his Monarch bravely he maintain'd.
Okim.
Have you ne'er ſince had Tidings of him;
Sak.
Ah! there thou prob'ſt me to the very Heart,
I ſince have never, never heard of him.
Okim.
Perhaps by Fortune of that War he fell.
Sak.
Should I believe thee my ſad Heart would break,
And I, dear Miramont, once more ſhould join thee;
But the great Mind is merciful and good,
And may have Comfort yet for poor Sakia.
That I from Miramont have never heard,
Proceeds from the vaſt Tract of Land between us,
Or want of Commerce 'twixt the French and you,
Or from th' unuſual Names your Nation gave us,
When firſt they brought us mourful Slaves to Angie;
For I whom th' Angians now Sakia call,
Nikaia was thro' all th' Huronian Land,
And Ulamar young Miramont was there.
Okim.
But ſhould he live, you three can never meet,
For as this Secret to the World divulg'd,
Ruins your Son with theſe five Warlike Nations;
So 'twill diſgrace your Husband with the French,
[14] Their Prieſts offended would incenſe their King.
Sak.
My Okima, know things are alter'd much
For by long Conferences here with Beaufort,
My Son and I both ſtrongly are inclin'd
T'embrace the Chriſtian Faith.
Okim.
Ye Pow'rs! who ever in ſo ſhort a time
Diſplay'd ſuch various Wonders?
Yet Miramont by ſtrong Preſumptions dead,
And 'tis your Safety to promote this Match.
Sab.
What! with my Husband's mortal Enemies?
Okim.
The dead have none, Death reconciles us all.
Sak.
But know that once
My Miramont, when in a dangerous State,
Upon the Bed of Languiſhment he lay,
Caus'd me to ſwear by all that I rever'd,
Even by the ſacred Bond that join'd our Hands,
By Love, the ſacred Tie that join'd our Souls,
And by the bright eternal Source of Love;
That when my Ulamar arriv'd to Manhood,
I ne'er would wed him to an Indian Maid;
But would tranſport him to thoſe happy Climes,
That th' Ocean from our Canada divides.
Beſides, in the dread Viſions of the Night,
I now for three ſucceſſive Nights have ſeen
Miramont threatning with a dreadful Frown
Irene, and the Love-ſick Ulamar.
Theſe Dreams are to my Son of dire Preſage,
And here remind me e'er it be too late,
To run and tear him from impending Fate.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Sakia, Beaufort.
Sak.
WHen meets the Council?
Beauf.
Already they're aſſembled,
And now diſpoſe of mine and your Son's Fate,
The beautiful Irene,
[15] And in an hour here we expect Zephario,
Who muſt impart their final Reſolution to us.
Sak.
Have they debated yet of Peace and War?
Beauf.
That the Angian Council have referr'd to me,
And to your Son, and to the wiſe Zephario.
Sak.
When will my Son vouchſafe to hear his Mother?
Beauf.
See, where he comes to attend you.

SCENE II.

Sakia, Ulamar.
Ulam.
My Mother!
Sak.
My Son!
Oh may the Bounty of th' eternal Mind
Show'r down his choiceſt Bleſſings on my Ulamar!
Ulam.
Oh may he but prolong the preſent Bleſſing!
That I may iong behold the beſt of Mothers.
Sak.
And yet you could deſert this Mother, Ulamar,
And could reſiſt her abſolute Commands,
And all her ſoft Entreaties could deſpiſe;
And I behold thee here in ſpight of both,
All diſmal with the pretious Blood of Hurons
And their Allies, Heav'n knows, alas, whoſe Blood!
Why would'ſt thou thus againſt my ſofteſt Pray'rs,
Do an unnatural Deed that thus ſhould pierce
The tender Bowels of the Wretch that bore thee?
Ulam.
And how could I avoid it? how reſiſt
Th' Almighty Voice of God, and the great Call
Of Nature urging me to repel Force
By Force, and to defend my ſelf and you?
Sak.
O name not me! for me thou haſt undone.
Ulam.
And how could I reſiſt my Country's Call?
That awful Call that in extreme Diſtreſs
Aloud implor'd my Aid?
Sak.
Thy Country! Ah! thou fought'ſt againſt it, Ulamar,
And haſt embru'd thy Hands in its dear Blood.
Ulam.
My Hands are nobly painted with the Blood
Of Hurons and of French, its mortal Foes.
Sak.
And canſt thou then ſo utterly forget
[16] That thou wert born upon th' Huronian Lake?
Ulam.
No, but I know that I am an Angian now,
My Hand, my Heart, my Soul are Angians all.
Sak.
And has a twelve Years Bondage ſo eſtrang'd thee,
That thou eſteem'ſt thy Countrymen thy Foes?
O Weakneſs to be pitied or deſpis'd!
Ulam.
For ever bleſt be that eternal Pow'r
That gave me a human comprehenſive Soul,
That can look down upon all narrow Principles.
For every brave Man's Country is the Univerſe,
His Countrymen Mankind, but chiefly thoſe
Who wiſh the Happineſs of all the reſt,
And who are Friends to all their Fellow Creatures:
And ſuch are all the brave Iroquian Tribes,
Such are th' unconquer'd Engliſh, free themſelves,
And loving all who actually are free,
And all who ſadly ſigh for Liberty;
But hating Tyrants and their Slaves alike,
And equally contemning both as fall'n
Below the Dignity of Human Nature.
Sak.
Tyrants are odious, Slaves are to be pitied,
Our own ſad Fate has told us ſo.
Ulam.
To me all Slaves are odious as their Tyrants,
I mean all Slaves who are the Tools of Tyrants,
They are true Slaves, who have the Souls of Slaves,
And worſe than Beaſts make uſe of their own Hands,
To clinch the Chains which firſt their Maſters tied.
Such tame and wretched things are all your Hurons,
No Countrymen for me who here diſown them,
Such are thoſe Peſts of Human Race the French,
Damn'd to eternal Slavery themſelves,
And therefore would like Devils damn Mankind.
Sak.
The Hurons thou diſown'ſt, diſown them ſtill,
But know amongſt them are thy dear Relations,
Whom God and Nature charges thee to cheriſh:
How canſt thou tell that in the late fought Field
Thou didſt not meet thy Father in thy Foe?
Yes, how canſt thou be ſure thou didſt not lift
[17] Thy impious Head againſt his ſacred Life,
And ſtabbing me in him in whom I live,
Act in one blow a double paracide!
Ulam.
When e'er I ceaſe to hearken to the Dictates
Of the World's Ruler and his Servant Nature,
I ſhall deſerve to be a thing accurſt;
In the late Fight that I might ſpare my Kindred,
I ſhun'd your Hurons and attack'd the French,
And urging thro' their troops my glorious Way,
I made a ſlaughter of their braveſt Chiefs,
Which they will long with bitter Woe remember.
Sak.
Ha! have a care! thou ſayeſt Mankind's thy Kindred,
Among the French too thou might'ſt find Relations.
Ulam.
'Tis true we were created Brothers all,
And all deſcend from one eternal Sire;
But whom the Father for his Sons diſowns,
I [...] not for my Brethren; no, the Brave
And Juſt are only Brethren worthy me,
And ſuch I ſhall reſpect where e'er I find them.
Sak.
And canſt thou fondly think there are no ſuch
Among the Squadrons of the warlike French?
Ulam.
I know there are.
When firſt in the late Fight with my good Sword,
I carried Death among the Faithleſs French;
One of their foremoſt Leaders I obſerv'd,
Who mow'd our Iroquois like ripen'd Corn,
Extending them in Ranks along the Plain;
With him went all his Souldiers Hearts and Eyes;
And long live Miramont aloud they cry'd.
Sak.
Ha! Miramont! Ah Gods!
[Apart]
ſpeak that again!
Ulam.
Yes, long live Miramont aloud they cry'd.
Sak.
Speak on, [Apart] tho' ſomething dire is on thy Tongue.
Ulam.
In ſhort, that Frenchman ſhew'd himſelf ſo brave,
That he appear'd a Conqueſt worthy me.
Sak.
By Heav'n the very diſmal thing I fear'd.
[Apart.
Ulam.
With Indignation ſtung I on him flew,
And in my firſt Attack was ſo ſucceſsful,
That from his wounded Arm his Weapon dropt.
Sak.
[18]
What will become of the forlorn Sakia!
[Apart.
Ulam.
Then with Revenge inflam'd I on him ruſh'd,
And my good Sword preſenting to his Heart.
Sak.
O Heav'n and Earth! O Nature canſt thou bear it!
[Apart.
Ulam.
Die, die, ſaid I, perfidious Villain die!
Sak.
O Miramont, thou Darling of my Soul,
Would I had never heard of thee again!
[Apart
O wretched Father! and O curſed Son!
Ulam.
Madam, you tremble, and a deadly Pale
O'erſpreads your Face; what ſtrange Diſorder's this?
Sak.
I'm always on the wrack when Blood is ſpilt.
Ulam.
Then now be calm, for here no Blood was ſpilt.
Sak.
How's that? indeed! is't poſſible! juſt Heav'n.
Ulam.
Madam, 'tis certain.
For looking ſternly in the Frenchman's Face,
While Fate ſtood threatning on my lifted Arm,
Thro' his undaunted Eyes I ſaw his Soul,
So great, ſo awful and ſo truly noble,
That I rever'd the Sight, and check'd my Hand,
And gave him Liberty, the Salt of Life,
And ſent him to his own; and now you ſee,
I can acknowledge Virtue in a Foe,
And can reſpect it, and reward it too.
Sak.
Ha! what a turn of wondrous Fate is here?
And how ſhall I conceal my impetuous Joy?
Miramont lives, my Soul's Deſire is near me,
[Apart
And Happineſs begins to dawn from Heav'n;
He lives; and Love and I ſhall meet again.
Oh! unexpected raviſhing return,
To Bliſs, too ſwift and mighty to be born!
'Twas but laſt moment that I felt Deſpair,
The very worſt of ills; and now I hope,
Ay now I entertain the charming Hope,
Of holding him of whom my Soul is fond,
Of holding him in theſe deſiring Arms,
And I ſhall ſee, O I ſhall die with Joy!
Yes, I ſhall ſee my Love, my Life again.
O let me ſee him, Gods, and let me die!
Ulam.
[19]
Madam, your Looks diſcover great Diſorder.
She hears me not, nor ſees me; now her Eyes
Seem deeply fix'd upon ſome abſent object;
And now they wildly rowl.
What mean theſe Muſings, and theſe ſudden Starts?
And theſe Convulſions that thus ſhake her Soul!
Heav'n long preſerve my Mother! Madam hear me,
Some body comes, retire before they appproach,
And be not ſeen in this extreme Diſorder.
[Leads her out, and returns.

SCENE III.

Ulamar, Beaufort.
Beauf.
My Ulamar!
Ulam.
My Friend.
Ha! thou look'ſt ſad, whenever thou art griev'd,
Alas I find 'tis I my ſelf that ſuffer;
What Thought diſturbs my Friend?
Beauf.
Thy ſympathizing Grief diſturbs thy Friend,
But when I think of loſing thee, oh then!
Ulam.
That loſs would quickly be repair'd, for thou,
Who mad'ſt me what I am can'ſt make another;
And form him fit for Friendſhip and for thee.
Beauf.
'Twas Heav'n alone could make thee what thou art,
A Jewel of ineſtimable Price,
I added to thy Luſtre, not thy Worth,
And the ſmall Pains I took to make thee ſhine,
Makes thee more pretious in my joyful Eyes;
But when I think of loſing thee.
Ulam.
I will not think of loſing thee,
I cannot bear the Thought.
Beauf.
Whoſe muſt Irene be?
Ulam.
Heav'n only knows,
But will alas in one half Hour declare.
Beauf.
Whoſe is her Heart, for thou haſt oft enquir'd.
Ulam.
But never yet could find.
Beauf.
To me ſhe ſtill has too reſpectful been,
And much too cold and too indifferent.
Ulam.
And too uneaſie and reſerv'd to me.
Beauf.
[20]
Perhaps ſome happier Man among the Crow'd,
Of her Adorers while we ſigh in vain,
Poſſeſſes all her Soul; 'tis hard to think,
That ſhe whoſe Beauty captivates all Hearts,
Should be like Virtue, with her ſelf content,
And never know deſire.
Try her once more at this important Juncture,
For I have ſearch'd into her Heart in vain;
'Tis true, my Soul is of her Beauty fond,
As ev'n of Glory, with whoſe noble fire,
It twenty Years ſuccesfully has burn'd;
Yet I who ſee my fortieth Sun renew'd;
Will entertain no Paſſion that revolts,
From Reaſons ſovereign and eternal Law.
'Tis true I would, for who would not be bleſt?
But will not by her Miſery be bleſt.
Ulam.
Nor I by Heav'n!
Beauf.
But now let me conjure thee Ulamar,
Ev'n by that charming Hope that makes us languiſh,
By holy Friendſhip's venerable Bond
That now confines us in this ſtrict Embrace,
By the Remembrance of thoſe happy Hours
Which we have paſt exciting one another
To elevated Thoughts and glorious Deeds;
For whomſoever Fate reſerves Irene,
Oh let him not be bleſt by halves,
Let him not loſe his Friend?
May never any Coldneſs come till Death,
Between our Loves and us!
Ulam.
Not Death himſelf Unleſs he quite extinguiſhes my Mind,
Shall make me cold to Beaufort.
Beauf.
But our Fate comes, and I muſt diſappear.

SCENE IV.

Ulamar, Irene.
Iren.
Was not that Beaufort? why does he avoid us?
What makes him look ſo ſad?
Ulam.
[21]
By Heav'n ſhe ſeems concern'd for him.
[Apart.
Thrice happy Beaufort!
Whoſe Sorrow ev'n in abſence has the force,
To move your Soul, while I before your Eyes
Unpitied can deſpair.
Iren.
Ah you miſtake me, Ulamar!
Oh that I had the Pow'r as I have the Will
To bring ſoft Peace to ev'ry troubled Breaſt!
Ulam.
And 'tis that Virtue that undoes me more,
'Tis not that Angel's Face, nor Angel's Form,
That Form ſurpaſſing all your lovely Sex;
'Tis not that winning Pomp of outward Graces
Which upon you, as on their Queen attend;
But 'tis your mind that Captivates my Soul,
Your Mind in Youth's firſt Bloom with ev'ry Grace,
And ev'ry Virtue fraught, as if that Heav'n
And Nature's ſelf took pleaſure to inſtruct you.
Before I beheld thee my reſtleſs Soul,
To ſomething high, to ſomething great aſpir'd;
But what I ne'er could tell, till ſeeing thee
And knowing thee inform'd and fix'd my raviſh'd Soul,
And ſhew'd it what with blind and reſtleſs ſearch
Before it ſought in vain; yes, ſhew'd it Virtue:
Virtue it ſelf that by great Heav'ns Command,
Aſſumes that lovely Form t'attract Mankind,
And draw them to it ſelf.
But while you captivate the gazing World
You ſtill remain ſerene, as if that Heav'n
Deſign'd you not to love but be ador'd,
Appearing not to know how very warm
How ſharply pointed are thoſe fatal Eyes;
Smiling, you kill and know not that you ſtrike,
And we with Pleaſure die.
Iren.
Oh fond miſtaken Ulamar! oh never more deceiv'd!
Know all the Extremities of Love I feel.
Ulam.
You love?
Iren.
I am all Love, I burn, I die with Love.
Ulam.
'Tis ſure for ſome immortal Being then,
For mortal Man could ne'er conceal his Joy.
Iren.
[22]
Alas he knows it not no more than Ulamar.
Ulam.
Let him be told it e'er it be too late;
Is it for Beaufort? I'll reſign to Beaufort,
For tho' I love thee more than Life it ſelf,
Tho' 'tis impoſſible to live without thee;
To ſhew thee how much I prefer thy Happineſs
Before my own, I will to make thee happy,
I will leave thee the lovelieſt thing in Nature,
For Death the moſt deteſtable.
Iren.
Beaufort, aſſure thy ſelf has all my eſteem,
But 'tis another that has all my Heart.
Ulam.
O Man whoſe Happineſs, ev'n Gods might envy!
My Friend and I, for I for him dare anſwer,
Will no advantage take of what the Council,
And wiſe Zephario ſhall anon determine;
But both, oh Gods, to him reſign our Claim!
Iren.
[Aſide.]
O matchleſs Love! O proof of Godlike Virtue!
While he ſpeaks this behold with what Convulſions
His ſtruggling Paſſion ſhakes his generous Frame,
With whoſe exceſs he trembles and he dies.
Ulam.
But oh! if ever thou could'ſt be too blame,
Thou would'ſt be ſo in this, for why? oh why
Haſt thou ſo long conceal'd the fatal Secret?
Iren.
Becauſe I never could 'till now declare it
Without expoſing too much ſhameful Weakneſs;
Therefore my raging Paſſion I confin'd,
Which burning inward prey'd upon my Life;
But from the Man I lov'd I hid it moſt.
In this alas I ſympathize with you;
'Tis not my Lover's Form enſnares my Heart,
Tho' his our Angian Virgins all adore;
But when I ſaw a Youth in his firſt Bloom
Lead our brave Iroquois with more ſucceſs
Than our moſt ancient and experienc'd Warriors,
Perform ſuch Wonders for his Countrey's Safety,
And for the Libertys of Humankind;
To which he ſacrifices his Repoſe,
And ev'n his Life, and Hazards the enjoyment
Of what he loves much dearer ev'n than Life.
Ulam.
[23]
Oh Gods! O Tranſport! whither is ſhe going?
Iren.
When I beheld all this you may be ſure,
Th'Almighty Mind has giv'n to me a Soul,
That could not ſee a Lover with theſe Virtues;
Theſe Godlike Virtues, and remain inſenſible,
The Joy that lightens from thy humid Eyes
Informs me that thou underſtand'ſt me, Ulamar,
And I deſign'd thou ſhould'ſt; but then be ſure
Thy godlike Virtue which inflam'd my Heart
Has in my Breaſt produc'd the noble Pride
Of imitating ſo much Excellence.
As thou haſt ſacrifiz'd Repoſe and Life,
And hazarded th'enjoyment ev'n of me,
Whom thou lov'ſt more than Life, for thy dear Countrey;
I tho' a Woman nobly will attempt
To emulate thy ſingular Example.
And tho' I love, nay doat, to Madneſs doat,
Tho' my Heart feels what never Tongue can utter,
Yet if my Countrey once decrees me Beauforts,
For Beaufort I'll retrieve my Heart,
And never ſee thee more.
Ulam.
Oh too accompliſh'd Beaufort! Oh my Friend!
What have I loſt by thy tranſcendent Virtue?

SCENE V.

Zephario, Irene, Ulamar, Beaufort.
Ulam.
What has Fate determin'd?
Beauf.
See its Interpreter, enquire of him.
Ulam.
Beauf. Hail to Zephario.
Zeph.
Ye matchleſs Friends, thou Beaufort, and thou Ulamar,
Are ye determin'd fully to conſent
To what the Angians here by me pronounce.
Ulam.
Beauf. We are.
Zeph.
In full Aſſembly then they vote you Thanks
For all the Wonders ye this Day perform'd,
In the Defence of Liberty and Canada;
To thee particularly Thanks they pay,
Brave Youth, who by the Boldneſs of thy Conduct
[24] (Boldneſs in deſperate Extreams is Wiſdome)
Rallying our routed Troops reſtor'd the Day,
And nobly rais'd us from Deſpair to Conqueſt:
For which the Conſcience of the noble Deed
And everlaſting Fame Reward the Doer;
But ſince in the firſt onſet of the French
That fierce Attack that carry'd all before it;
Beaufort by wondrous Friendſhip mov'd preſerv'd
Thee, Ulamar, by our own flying Troops
As by a Torrent, overborn, o'erwhelm'd,
Trampled by Friends, ſurrounded by the Foe,
And ſtood the Barrier betwixt thee and Fate,
That threatned thee from Friends and Foes alike;
The Council wiſely have decreed, that he
Who ſav'd th'Heroick Youth to whom we owe
Our Conqueſt, did with him preſerve the State;
And therefore have decreed him for Reward
A Trifle in it ſelf, but dear to him My Daughter.
Beauf.
Madam do you conſent?
Iren.
I do.
Beauf.
My Ulamar doeſt thou?
Ulam.
Oh take her while I have Voice to ſay ſhe's thine!
Beauf.
Oh ſtrange Conſent!
Deſpair is in her Eyes, and Death in his.
Madam, your Tongue conſents, your Soul denys.
Iren.
'Tis true, my Soul, brave Beaufort, is another's;
But ſoon, depend upon it, ſhall be thine,
And ſhall as true and faithful prove to thee,
As thou haſt been to Liberty and Angie:
True, were my Affections mine, and I my own
Then, Ulamar, I had been only thine,
But I was born for Angie not my ſelf;
And Angie, Beaufort, has decreed me thine.
Thou, Ulamar, poſſeſs ſome happier Maid,
Who may deſerve to live, to die with thee,
And bleſs the happy pair, all Bounteous Heav'n
When I ſhall be no more.
Beauf. Apart.
Was ever ſuch a [...]ight, and ſuch a Hearing?
[] The accents dye upon her Charming Tongue,
And leave her Lovely over-flowing Eyes
To pour out the abundance of her Soul.
I who cou'd dye for Ulamar or her.
Shall I make both unhappy, nay my ſelf too;
For I muſt doubly ſhare in all their Woes.
No [...] rouze thy ſelf my Soul, and in one Act
Deliver three: I now am of an Age
In which the Paſſions reaſons Voice obey,
And Reaſon tells me Heav'n and Nature form'd
Irene for her Lovely Ulamar.
And therefore made them equal in their Loves,
Their Beauty and their years: Rouze Rouze my Soul!
'Tis done, my Friend, and thou too charming Maid,
And wiſe Zephario Hear, I thank the Angians,
I thank them for th' Ineſtimable gift
With which they have Rewarded my poor zeal,
And I accept it to beſtow it Here.
Ul.
Ha! Gods! What meaneſt thou? Mock me not my Friend!
Beauf.
No, take her, by th' Eternal mind ſhe's thine,
And know that when I firſt beſtow'd my Heart
My very Soul upon thee I beſtow'd.
A gift that was leſs Dear to me.
Iren.
Is't poſſible! And is not this a Dream?
Can there in Man be ſuch a Godlike mind?
Zeph.
And is your final Reſolution this?
Beauf.
'Tis fix'd as Natures Laws that nere can change.
Zeph.
Do you accept Irene for your Wife?
Ul.
Do I accept her?
With greater Rapture than the Wretch that's freed
From Deaths Convulſive pangs embraces Heav'n:
[...]ut Oh the Man, who Loves to that degree
And can reſign her; He alone deſerves her.
Zeph.
The Deed is Noble, for 'tis Wiſe and Juſt,
The Engliſh always were a Gallant Nation,
And Foes to Force, and Friends to Liberty.
They who without the Mind poſſeſs the Body,
Poſſeſs by Force, and Raviſh, not Enjoy:
He who can Abſolutely rule himſelf,
[...] can leave others free is truly Noble:
Young man prepare, this Night ſhall Joyn your Hands.
Ul.
[26]
This very Night!
By the Immortal Powr's I'm ſcarce my ſelf.
Fear, Hope, and Sorrow and Tranſporting Joy
And wonder at this unexpected Bliſs,
Have all by turns ſo much diſturb'd my Soul:
This very Night my Father!
Zeph.
This Night my Son, for an Important cauſe,
Frontenac Viceroy of this Indian France
Diſowns the Treaſon of the late attempt,
And promiſes ſeverely to chaſtize it;
Mean while a murmur runs among our Angians
Which from their Priſoners they derive they ſay,
That the late Damn'd ſurpriſe was firſt deſign'd
By a French Officer who Loves Irene:
For every Band was charg'd to Seize on her:
Thou art a Valiant! And Succeſsful Warriour,
And canſt defend the Darling of my Age,
Far better than her Father's feeble arms.
Ul.
Defend her! Yes, what Beaufort has reſign'd
To me, I only will to Heav'n reſign.
Oh Beaufort, beſt of Men, and beſt of Friends!
Shall I refuſe to die for ſuch a Friend?
Shall ever I forget the boundleſs Debt
I owe to thee? Oh what ſhall I repay!
Thou haſt my Soul already.
[Zep. to Ul.]
Come inſtantly, we'll joyn your hands, and then
See what theſe Meſſengers of Peace deſign,
And then—
Ul.
And Immortality will then be mine.
The End of the Second Act.

ACT III. SCENE I.

Sakia, Ulamar.
Sak.
WHy haſt thou ſtaid ſo long ungrateful Ulamer?
I ſent thee word that thy late dreadful Tale,
Had rais'd ſuch various ſuries in my Soul,
[27] As left me impotent of Thought or Speech,
And ſnatch'd me ſo entirely from my ſelf,
That the important buſineſs was unmention'd,
For which that conference was firſt deſign'd.
Thou haſt often ſaid, my Son, that thou deſireſt
To know thy Father.
Ul.
Yet you unkindly kept him ſtill conceal'd.
Sak.
Believe it Son, there was a wondrous cauſe:
But wherefore would'ſt thou know him?
Ul.
That if he leads the Hurons out to fight,
I might in Battle ſhun him.
Sak.
Is that the only cauſe of thy deſire?
Know that in Battle, ſhoud'ſt thou meet thy Father,
Great Nature whiſpring with her Voice Divine,
Would make thee ſtop thy eager murdring Hand,
In ſpightof all thy ſacred Thirſt of Blood;
Or elſe ſome Genius with no mortal tone,
Would thunder in thy ears, forbear, 'tis He.
And would'ſt thou only know him to avoid Him?
Is that the only cauſe of thy deſire?
Thou ſhould'ſt deſire to know him to Embrace him;
And to revere the Fountain of thy life;
From which the Graces of thy manly form,
And all thy boaſted excellences flow.
Ul.
Then name him.
Sak.
The naming him on thee, my Son, depends.
Yet thus far thou ſhal'ſt know thy noble Father;
The beſt and braveſt of Mankind is he;
And, oh, he loves thee Son, he loves the more
Than his own lovely Eyes, He lives for thee;
And me he loves with ſuch an Air and Meen,
As if ſome God came down to adore his Creature:
Oh none can love but he! Oh none can ſhow
Such Majeſty with ſo much ſweetneſs joyn'd,
Such tenderneſs with fury reconcil'd,
So firm a conſtancy with ſo much flame,
Such rapture with inimitable Grace;
And then a Wiſdom, and a Tongue might charm
The ears of liſtening Angels: Know my Son
Thou wilt be fond, be proud of ſuch a Father.
Ul.
Madam, his name?
Sak.
[28]
Once more the naming him, on thee depends:
Before thou hear'ſt his name, thou muſt conclude
This proſer'd Peace; and muſt renounce for ever—
Ul.
Whom?
Sak.
The Daughter of Zepharia.
Ul.
Irene?
Sak.
What; do'ſt thou ſtart?
Yes diſobedient Boy, thou muſt renounce Her.
Ul.
My Wife?
Sak.
Thy Wife? Impoſſible!
Ul.
This hour our Hands were joyn'd; this very hour
With ſolemn Invocation I implor'd
The eternal Mind, and every Power to witneſs
That nought but death ſhould part my Love and me.
Sak.
To thee thy Father then for ever's loſt.
Ul.
Wherefore.
Sak.
He bears to every Angian mortal Hate.
Ul.
Let him but look on her, that Hate will ceaſe.
Sak.
He oft indulging his fond tender thoughts,
He oft would pleaſe himſelf with thoughts of thee,
And of thy Fortune, and thy future deeds,
And of the Wife deſign'd for thee; a Wife
Of quite a different Stamp, than thou haſt choſe.
Ul.
One who has greater Beauty than Irene?
Sak.
No, to confeſs a truth, that cannot be.
Ul.
Of greater Intereſt then, perhaps than ſhe?
Sak.
Of greater intereſt ſay'ſt thou?
Ah no! His generous Soul diſdains the thought,
The Wife that He deſign'd for thee, was one
Whom Education ſhould with nature Joyn,
To form her an Aſſociate worthy thee!
One fit t' aſſiſt thee in the ways of Virtue,
And help to raiſe thy Soul, to glorious Acts.
Ul.
What he deſign'd then, Providence has done,
And Joyn'd me to the very Lovely ſhe,
Whom had my Father known, he wou'd have choſe.
Sak.
Ha!
Ul.
And has not Beaufort told you what Irene
Did at that Conference, that made her mine?
Sak.
He told me that, but kept the March conceal'd.
Ul.
Was ever any thing ſo Great, ſo Noble?
Sak.
I muſt confeſs, it was no common Act.
Ul.
[29]
Was ever ſo much Greatneſs ſeen before?
My Father will be pleas'd, will be Tranſported,
To be allied to ſuch Tranſcendent Virtue.
Ev'n Europeans Amorous of themſelves,
And their own ways exalt it to the Skies,
And generous Beaufort freely has declar'd
He never heard of any thing ſo great,
Among their Godlike Romans.
Sak.
Is't poſſible?
Ul.
My Father when he ſees her will be charm'd,
My Father loudly will approve my Choice
Sak.
O all ye Immortal Pow'rs, I am convinc'd;
Remove one hindrance, which thou can'ſt remove,
And thy poor Mother may be happy ſtill.
Ul.
Name it.
Sak.
This Marriage ties thee, to a hateful Intereſt,
Repugnant to thy Father's: But the French
Now proffer Peace, that Peace is in thy Pow'r;
Conclude it, and your Intereſts will be one.
Ul.
But that on me depends not.
Sak.
That on thee!
On thee alone, aſſure thy ſelf, depends
The Angians have inſtated thee and Beaufort,
And thy [...]ew Father with unbounded Pow'r
To make firm Peace, or to continue War.
And two of you decide th' Important Buſineſs,
Zephario ſtrongly is inclin'd to thee;
And the Engliſh Intereſt is ſo clearly known,
As may make Beaufort eaſily ſuſpected.
Ul.
But Madam.
Sak.
Hear me yet my Son a while,
If with the French and Hurons, thou conclud'ſt,
A ſolid Peace: Survey the vaſt Advantages
Which will from thence Accrue, to thee and thine,
For let th' Exchange of Captives be one clauſe,
And then that Peace reſtores thee to thy Father.
Ul.
How are you ſure he Lives?
Sak.
He Lives, he Lives, the Darling Care of Heav'n!
This I'm aſſur'd, by one, who in the Fight,
Both ſaw and felt, and wonder'd at his Valour:
And thee he ſays, he ſay ſo very near,
[30] That by th' aſiſtance of thy Guardian Spirit,
Thou narrowly, Oh! narrowly did'ſt miſs,
The Murder of thy Father.
Ul.
Oh Heav'n! I'm ſeiz'd with Horrour when I hear it.
Sak.
Prevent it for the future,
Dread what may happen, and conclude a Peace;
And as that Peace reſtores thee to thy Father,
So it ſecures thy Fair, thy lov'd Irene,
For ſhe may elſe while thou mak'ſt diſtant War,
Be torn from thee, as I was from thy Father.
Ul.
Ay that wou'd make a Wretch of me indeed?
Sak.
All my own Intereſt, I paſs in Silence,
And all my Griefs, for I'm too well convinc'd,
That thou can'ſt look inſenſibly on both.
Ul.
Madam you wrong me.
Sak.
No, thou hat'ſt thy Mother.
Ul.
Hate you?
Sak.
And yet bear Witneſs Heav'n and Earth, bear witneſs
My cruel'ſt Foes, with what a Tender care,
With what an ardent Love, I've cheriſh'd thee,
Oh Ulamer, my Life is not ſo Dear to me,
For I have Liv'd for thee alone, Juſt Heav'n
For Twenty years I've plac'd my ſole felicity,
Nay all my Wiſhes, all my Hopes of Happineſs,
On two dear objects, on a Son and Husband:
From thy dear Father I have long been torn,
And kept a mournful Widow and a Slave
In inſupportable Captivity,
Diſconſolate, forlorn, and deſolate
Among my Barbarous and Inſulting Foes;
And have been forc'd to bear their Bloody taunts,
And all the malice of their murdering Eyes:
Yet thou for whom I have endur'd all this,
For whom I groan away my wretched hours:
Thou haſt refus'd to dry thy Mother's Eyes,
But prov'ſt a cruel and a bitter Child to me,
Untouch'd by all my Grief, unmov'd by all my Love.
Ul.
Once more you wrong me Madam;
I always have profeſt exact obedience to you,
Beyond the cuſtom of our Indian Sons;
For ſuch obedience my beſt friend has taught me,
Sab.
[31]
Yes!
Witneſs the Battle Fought this Bloody morn.
And the Clandeſtine Match this Evening made
Ul.
I thought you had been ſatisfy'd in both.
Sab.
Why do'ſt thou not Obey me, now Ingrate!
When thy Obedience is moſt neceſſary.
Thou know'ſt the ſinking preſſure under which
I for Twelve years have bow'd my wretched Head
Have paſs'd my tedious days in Tears, and Wails:
My Nights in fearful Dreams and broken Slumbers,
Thou ſeeſt my faded Cheek, my Languid Eye,
And hear'ſt me breath the Rueful voice of Sorrow,
Thou know'ſt this Peace wou'd end my killing Care,
And drive all ſadneſs from my Eyes for ever.
For the bare thought of ſeeing thy Dear Father,
Makes Joy like lightning dart along my Soul;
And raiſes every Senſe to Native vigour.
Oh yet thy Mother might be bleſt to envy?
But her lov'd Son will have her wretched ſtill;
Thou know'ſt this Peace is only in thy pow'r;
Yet knowing this, haſt thou vouchſaf'd to give
One word of comfort to revive my Soul?
Yes, cruel, haſt thou once vouchſaf'd t' aſſure me
That thou determin'ſt to conclude this Treaty?
Haſt thou not ſtood Inſenſible and Dumb?
Ul.
But firſt'tis requiſite to hear the French;
And then in what I can you ſhall be obey'd:
Sak.
In what thou can'ſt; in what thou wilt, thou mean'ſt:
Yes, yes, my Son, thou ſhalt be ſoon diſcharg'd
Of all the Duty which thou ow'ſt to me,
But yet a while, and thou wilt have no Mother,
And then too late thou may'ſt vouchſafe a Sigh
For all the Miſery I've undergone,
For all the Woe I yet muſt undergo,
In that ſtrange Region of Departed Souls,
Where I muſt Languiſh out my Woful hours
In Expectation of my Deareſt Husband;
And of my Cruel, [...] my much lov'd Son.
Ul.
Can'ſt thou [...]ear this my Soul, and not be mov'd?
Sak.
I never in this World ſhall ſee thee more,
And here thou never wilt thy Father know,
[32] Then to th' Eternal mind, and his Protection
I leave thee, O my Son: Bleſs, bleſs him Heav'n;
I have born Wretchedneſs enough for both;
I leave him to thy care. Adieu my Son!
A long Adieu in this Embrace receive.
Ul.
Madam, by all that's Sacred I adjure you
Not to commit a raſh and curſed deed;
Wait the reſult, at leaſt of this Debate.
Sak.
And do'ſt thou give me hope then?
Ul.
I do.
Sak.
Well then! Since thou wilt have it ſo, I'll wait,
But know on that reſult depends my Fate.

Scene Second.

Ulamer.
Ul.
She's gone! Perhaps for ever! How; for ever!
And can'ſt thou name it? Can'ſt thou bear the thought?
The Kindeſt, Tender'ſt and the beſt of Mother's?
She who has liv'd for thee, for thee has born—
Oh what has ſhe not born—
Yet her can ſt thou Deſert? Can'ſt thou ſee her Dye?
By thy unkindneſs Dye? O Barbarous Son,
Ungreatful Ulamer! But then the Angians!
Can'ſt thou abandon them? Betray their Cauſe?
The Cauſe of Humankind? Of Godlike Liberty?
What can'ſt thou give up that to theſe [...]ly Traytors:
Inſidious Slaves who Inſolently think
To Fool theſe Nations, and to obtain by Truce
What their baſe Fears reſtrain them from perſuing;
By Honourable War, eternal mind,
Maſter of Life, great Mover of all Spirits;
O guide my Will, by thy unerring Light!
And by that Light, Illuſtrate my dark Reaſon:
Do thou inſpire me with Expedient ways,
That I may neither give up thy great Cauſe,
Nor yet Betray my poor Afflicted Mother.
But ſee the French appear.
Flat Scene draws.

Scene the Third,

[33]
Zephario, Ulamar, Beaufort. 1 Emb. 2 Emb.
Ze.
Well Frenchmen, here you come to treat of Peace;
But firſt this Obvious queſtion muſt be ask'd;
How comes it we have War?
Ul.
Becauſe the Truce they Treacherouſly broke,
Tho' by themſelves propos'd, and firſt begun.
Beau.
As they will this; for Peace is of no uſe
To them, but to be Broke.
Five Solemn Leagues in European Climes,
Ev'n in our own Remembrance have they Broke;
Tho' by themſelves, thoſe Treaties were begun;
And which with Damn'd Perfidiouſneſs they Swore,
Ev'n by that Pow'r that ſaw their Faithleſs Hearts,
To keep eternally Inviolate.
Ul.
It ſeems then, when they find themſelves too weak
To hurt their Foes by Honourable War,
They oblige us then to Swear not to hurt them.
Beau.
Nay more, they make us Swear to give them Time
And opportunity to urge our Fate;
That as falſe Friends, they may gain that by Treaty,
Which they could not by Enmity nor Force.
1. Emb.
The breaking Truce, was a raſh private Act,
Which Frontenac our Governour diſowns.
2. Emb.
And which he ſince ſeverely has Chaſtiz'd.
1. Emb.
Know that the Mighty Monarch whom we ſerve,
Has ſent ſtrict Orders to Count Frontenac,
To make a ſolid and a laſting Peace,
With all the Warlike Five European Tribes;
A Peace ſo firm, that 'tis his Royal Will,
That you, and all his Subjects ſhould be one.
Ul.
That is, that we ſhould be alike his Slaves.
2. Emb.
Oh you miſtake his bountiful deſign;
He ſees and pities the Barbarity,
In which ſo Brave a Nation now lies plung'd;
And he would Civilize your Rugged ways;
Therefore his faithful [...]bjects he commends,
To have one Heart, one Soul, one dwelling with you,
Ul.
But that Propoſal we reject with ſcorn.
Mel.
Conſider we ſhall teach you our own manners,
[34] Thoſe pleaſing manners, which the World admires,
And which the wiſeſt Nations have Embrac'd.
Beau
The wiſeſt Nations! Yes, the Fools of all
Oh Europe, Europe! How haſt thou been dull
To thy undoing? How thy heedleſs Magiſtrates
Have ſuffer'd poor unthinking Sots, to unlearn,
Their native Cuſtoms, and their native Tongues,
To ſpeak your Jargon, and aſſume your ways
Mele.
Which argues in us a Superiour Genious.
Beau.
I muſt confeſs it makes our Fools believe ſo;
Inclines their Grovling Souls to their worſt Foes,
And makes them obvious to your ſhameful Arts;
Makes them admire you, makes them Imitate you,
Tho' aukwardly our Aſſes ape your Dogs.
Ul.
What have you taught the Nations after all?
What have you taught them but Inglorious arts:
To emaſcalate their minds? But curſed Luxury,
Which makes them needy, venal, baſe, perfidious
Black Traytors to their Country, Friends to you.
Beauf.
For you win Provinces, as Hell gains Souls;
'Tis by corrupting them you make them yours:
They might defie your malice were they faithful
But firſt you enſlave them to their own baſe Paſſions;
And afterwards to yours.

Scene the Fourth.

Zeph. Ula. Beaufort, 2 Emb. Slave.
Ul.
Ha! My Mother's Slave! What wouldſt thou?
[A part [...] him.
Sl.
Your Mother—
Ul.
Well—
Sl.
Stands with her threatning Dagger in her hand.
Ul.
Oh Horrour! Horrour!
My fancy cannot bear the murdring thought.
Tell her, her harſh command ſhall be obey'd.

Scene the Fifth.

Zeph. Ula. Beauf. 2 Emb.
Ul.
Now Gentlemen, we to our buſineſs come;
Such a Community as you propoſe
We utterly reject, becauſe that Union
Would firſt corrupt our Angians, then enſlave them;
[35] The only Treaty to which we deſcend.
Beauf.
How Ulamar.
Mel.
Oh Engliſhman, your Separate Intereſt here
Is but too obvious.
Ul.
Hold Frenchman?
My Friend, no more, anon thou ſhalt be ſatisfy'd.
Beauf.
In the mean while—
Ul.
No more, by Holy Friendſhip I adjure thee,
Thou ſhalt be ſatisfy'd; but to our buſineſs;
The Treaty to which we deſcend is this;
A Treaty of Commerce between us and you;
And a Ceſſation of Hoſtilities between our ſelves and you,
And your Confederates
The Hurons, and exchange of all the Captives:
To this you agree?
Zeph.
I do, for this is Angies Intereſt.
Ul.
And you?
2 Fr.
And we.
Ul.
And this to obſerve moſt ſolemnly you Swear;
By all that's awful in yon glittering Sky,
And all that's binding in the World below.
2. Fr.
We Swear: And you?
Zeph.
We Swear.
1. Emb.
So then 'tis done; The Engliſh are diſlodg'd?
Beau.
They need not fright thee;
A League from hence they lie entrench'd to Night,
And towards new York to morrow take their way.
2. Emb.
And all your Angians have laid down their Arms.
Ul.
E're we began to Treat, the Engliſh march'd,
And ours diſpers'd according to our words.
1. Emb.
The Remnant of the Night, lets waſt in Joy then.
Ul.
The publick Deputies in yon Apartment
Attend to Entertain you.
1. Emb.
We wait on you.
Ul.
We follow you.

Scene the Sixth,

Ulamar Beaufort.
Ul.
What turnſt thou from thy Friend, O Beaufort, Beaufort.
Beau.
What haſt thou done fond Youth?
Ul.
O Look not with that Mornful coldneſs on me,
[36] Thou art my Benefactor, Father, Friend;
'Tis by thy Generous Friendſhip I have Liv'd;
Alas I cannot bear the freezing Gloom
That's on thy Brow, it chills me to the Heart.
Beau.
Reflect on what thou haſt done
Ul.
Oh ſpeak not Beaufort in that Cruel Tone!
Where is my Friend, my Warm, my tender Friend,
For in thy alter'd Meen I ſee him not,
Nor hear him in thy Voice.
Beau.
Thou haſt betray'd him, loſt him.
Ul.
Not for the VVorld, I would not looſe my Beaufort
What 'ere I did, thy Friend was forc'd to do.
Beau.
Forc'd?
Ul.
Yes, forc'd, and with the only dreadful Force
That could compel my Soul,
My Mothers Life depended on the Deed.
Beau.
Yes, yes, I gueſt the Cauſe;
Ay, This is what has Captivated Europe,
VVhere their Domeſtick Intereſt moſt prefer
Before the Weal and Honour of their Country,
Tho' private good on publick Weal depends,
And he who for his Houſe betrays his Country,
Betrays his Family, Betrays his Children,
All his Poſterity to ſhameful Ruin,
And makes them Poor, Precarious, Abject, Baſe,
Inſtead of Happy, Rich, or Great, or Brave;
And this, fond Youth, thou wilt too ſurely fin'd
Ul.
Oh ſpare me Beaufort, ſpare me.
Beau.
Yes, I have done, this is Revenge enough,
For one who Loves thee.
Ul.
Oh that bleſt ſound! How it revives my Soul?
Beau.
This for a Friend, is Chaſtiſement enough;
Or if thy Fault asks more, thy new Allies
Too ſurely will inflict it, for their Friends:
Their Friends are they, who feel their Barbarous Hands,
Moſt Grievous and moſt Bloody.
Ul.
Nay, now thou Chid'ſt again;
Beau.
Oh! No, my Friend, my Happineſs, my Glory.
'Tis now that I would chiefly ſhew I Love thee;
For ſince with ſo much Tenderneſs, we have Liv'd,
And Fate at laſt obliges us to part,
[37] And that for ever, let us part in Love.
Ul.
What muſt we part?
Beau.
Part Ulamar? Why that's the very thing
Thy new Allies deſign'd.
'Tis by dividing old and Faithful Friends
That they oft ruine both; 'tis their old Cheat.
Ul.
But ſure thou did'ſt not ſay for Ever?
Beau.
Too probably for ever!
Ul.
Curſt unforeſeen Calamity! But when?
Beau.
This moment.
Ul.
This moment! 'Tis Impoſſible.
Beau.
This moment to my Troops, I take my way,
I doubt the French, and dare no longer Stay:
Adieu my Friend?
Ul.
For ever Beaufort! Let us in part Hope.
Beau.
England ſeverely will Revenge this Peace,
And leave the Angians to their new Allies,
And to their Mercy, which is dreadful Cruelty;
And I as England's faithful Son am bound,
To enter into all her Sentiments.
Ul.
But yet thou wilt not Hate me.
Beau.
Oh never, never, 'tis not in my Pow'r;
My valued Friend, adieu!
Ul.
This partings death to me.
Beau.
What is't to me then?
This Evening I reſign'd Irene to thee,
Did that declare a Vulgar Friendſhip, ſay.
Ul.
Oh no! A Matchleſs, unexampled one.
Beau.
And yet thou haſt depriv'd me of thy ſelf too,
Irene now is thine, and thou art Hers;
She ſoon will comfort thee, for Beaufort's Abſcence;
But only Death will drive away my Grief,
For I ſhall never never ſee thee more.
Ul.
Why then thou wilt not ſure begone to Night;
For I have ſtill ten Thouſand things to ſay.
Beau.
I muſt be gone, ev'n now I muſt begone;
I doubt the French, and dare no longer ſtay,
For my Brave Troops may all er'e morn be loſt.
Ul.
But 'tis a Gloomy and Tempeſtous Night;
[38] And thou haſt a long League to March alone,
And yet thou ſay'ſt, there may be danger near.
Beau.
Oh I have loſt all that I held moſt Dear;
Th' entirely Wretched, need no danger Fear.
The End of the Third Act.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Ulamar.
Ul.
BEaufort; thy loſs ſits Heavy on my Soul!
For I ſhall never ſee thy like again;
In whom the Flame of Engliſh Spirit ſhone,
A Greatneſs that adorns thoſe generous Nations,
That never Baſely yet reſign'd their Liberty!
A Magnanimity unknown to Slaves!
Oh how unlike our new Confederates he?
But yet this Night I will have Truce with Grief;
This Night I Conſcerate to Love and Joy:
Haſt then, my Faireſt, my eſpous'd, O haſt!
And cheer thy Languiſhing Impatient Ulamar.

Scene Second.

Sakia, Irene, Ulamar.
Sak.
'Tis late, and we will leave thee to thy Bride.
Ul.
Well Madam! Now I hope you are Satisfy'd!
Sak.
Not thou thy ſelf art more.
Ul.
You own then, I have Reaſon to be ſatisfy'd.
Sak.
Oh thou art Bleſt above the Race of men,
Poſſeſſing all that's Good, and all that's Fair.
Ul.
You have heard Irene talk, which till this Day,
Your ſtrange Averſion never would permit you:
What think you of her Mind?
Sak.
Oh 'tis the very Mind of all her Sex,
That's fit to Animate that Lovely Perſon,
An Angel fit to inform the Glorious Sphears;
Prepare thy ſelf to Morrow for new Tranſports,
For then thou ſhalt behold the beſt of Fathers,
[39] And I the beſt of Loveas in a Husband.
Ul.
He'll not refuſs'd to ſee Irene ſure,
Tho' born an Angian.
Sak.
O no, My Son, He will not only ſee.
But will be Raviſh'd with the Matchleſs ſight;
For thou haſt Choſe exactly to his wiſh;
And thy choice anſwers to the Fair Idea,
The Lovely Image, and the perfect mind
Which his rich Fancy form'd for thee:
Once more, ten Thouſand Bleſſings on you both.

Scene Third.

Ulamar, Irene.
Ul.
Come to my Arms, thou Charming wiſh of Souls!
The happy Night, th' Auſpicious hour is come
That I ſo long have wiſh'd, ſo long Diſpair'd to ſee;
Make but this Bliſs perpetual, O ye Powr's!
I ask no more, for I am Bleſt as you.
What's this? By all the Immortal Pow'rs in Tears!
And art thou Griev'd, that thy poor Lovers Bleſt?
Is this thy Conſtancy? Is this thy Flame?
Ire.
My Ulamar! Since I declar'd my Love
When Decency almoſt forbad the ſound:
Now Heav'n has made it Duty, I muſt own
My Paſſion, is my Darling Pride of Soul;
And never can Irene more be pleas'd
Than when her Lovely Ulamer is Bleſt:
But ah, a ſadneſs ſits upon my Soul,
A fatal load, that weighs it down from Bliſs,
To which it would aſpire, a black Preſage
That wiſpers to me, I muſt looſe thee Ulamar,
Ul.
The Gods forbid, that I ſhould looſe Irene,
Why ſhou'd my Love give way to ſuch a thought?
Ire.
Oh Ulamar! My Happineſs! My Life!
The bliſsful Days and Hours that I expect:
Now Joyn'd in happy Nuptial League with thee,
Is ſurely what offends th' Immortal Pow'rs;
Such Bliſs is far above a Mortal ſtate,
For we ſhould Live and be as Gods my Love
And that the Wrathful Pow'rs above deny.
Ul.
[40]
This is meer Melancholly fancy all.
Ire.
Ah me! what dreadful Groan was that, as if
A Thouſand wretches, in one Breath expir'd:
The Demons of the Air, ſure catch my Grief
Confirming my Preſage.
Ul.
'Tis Fancy all, or next to Fancy wind,
That raging makes the bending Foreſt roar,
No Deareſt, if th' Immortal Pow'rs are Angry,
'Tis not with thee, for thou art Spotleſs all,
In whom not Earth, nor Heav'n a fault can ſee;
No, 'tis with me who ſee all Heav'n before me,
And yet delay to taſt of Immortality.
For Oh! I talk, I loiter out the Night
Too, too Ineſtimable to be loſt
In words: If we muſt talk, to Bed my Fair,
Where I ſhall whiſper ſomething to thy Soul
That is a Secret for the Gods and thee.
O thoſe bewitching Bluſhes! How they dart
Caeleſtial Fire thro' all my Trembling frame.
If there is cauſe to Fear th' Immortal Pow'rs
Should Snatch thee from me, let us Live to Night,
This Bliſsful Night whole Ages let us Live.
Ire.
Bleſs me ye Pow'rs! What diſmal Screem is that?
Heard you not ſomething?
Ul.
Plainly I heard, and wonder what if means.
Ire.
Hark! hark! Another ſhreek.
Ul.
And now they groan.
Ire.
Now ſhouts of Joy Succeed.
And now a Noiſe of Murder and of Fire.

Scene Fourth.

Ulamar, Irene, Arimat Wounded.
Ul.
Ha! What art thou, thus mangled, and thus Pale?
Can'ſt thou be Arimat?
Ari.
The poor remains of Arimat.
Ul.
Alas! Thou art Dying.
Ari.
Yes, there were two things
That I had left to do in this frail World;
To ſave thee Ulamar, and then to Dye.
Ul.
Surpriſe has ſo Confounded all my Pow'rs
That I want force to ask thee, who has done this.
Ari.
[41]
Who but our new Allies.
Ul.
The French?
Ari.
The Faithleſs French.
Ul.
Impoſſible! Thou rav'ſt poor Dying Arimat.
Ari.
I would to Heav'n I did: the Perjur'd French
Rallying their routed Troops, came back by ſtealth,
And for twelve Hours, inſidiouſly ſat down
Under the Brow of yonder Northern Mount,
And there ſat Brooding o're their black deſign.
Ul.
How know'ſt thou this?
Ari.
Aloud they boaſt it thro' our Flaming ſtreets,
And how with eaſe by Night, they gain'd a Place,
Truſting to Solemn Oaths ſo lately Sworn;
Bury'd in Sleep, and quite diſſolv'd in Luxury.
Ul.
Confuſion! Angiae on the Brink of Ruin,
And I ſtand loitering here, to Arms, to Arms.
Ari.
Hold, Ulamar, I came not for that purpoſe;
'Tis now to late to Fight; for all our Angians,
Except a few, are Fled, or Slain, or taken.
Ul.
And why had I no ſooner Notice?
Ari.
Alas! All this has in few Minuets paſt,
For we were moſt without Defence ſurpriz'd,
Depending on this Nights ſo Solemn Treaty.
Fly while thou can'ſt, Brave Ulamar, Oh Fly!
A dauntleſs handful ſtill, of our Brave Warriours
With Matchleſs Valour keep the Dogs at Bay;
Yet they but Fight, to give thee time to Fly,
Their zeal to ſave their wretched ſinking Country;
Againſt vaſt Numbers: For a while ſuſtains them,
That they may ſave in thee, the Prop of Liberty,
The great ſupport of all th' Iroquian Tribes,
The only hope of Angiae.
My fainting Limbs, no longer will ſupport me;
Receive me Earth, the Refuſe now of Nature.
[Falls.
Fly Ulamar, e're yet it be to late,
Or thou and Angiae are like me no more.
[Dies.
Iri.
He Dies.
Begone my Love, without delay begone.
Ul.
And where alas wilt thou go?
Ire.
To Life or Death I'll follow thee.
Ul.
To Life thou can'ſt not, 'tis impoſſible,
For I muſt Scale the Paliſades t'eſcape.
[42] The French poſſeſs the Gates; no, Flight for me,
No, I muſt Die; but will not tamely Fall;
Nor unreveng'd, to Arms, to arms.

Scene 5.

Ulamar, Irene, Zephario Wounded.
Zep.
O Horrour! Horrour! 'tis too late my Son.
Ire.
My Father bleeding? Stream my Eyes like fountains.
Zep.
Angiae has been, and we are now no more.
Die Ulamer, and thou Irene Die:
If thou would'ſt Dye, as thou haſt Liv'd with Honour,
Die quickly, while thy wretched Country-men:
The few remains of Angians ſcarſe defend
The Entrance to this place—I can no more.
[Dies.
Ire.
He dies, he dies, and Heav'n looks calmly on.
Ul.
Hark! hark! they come, Retire my Love retire,
Now for the welcome that ſuch gueſts deſerve.

Scene 6.

Ula. Ire. Front. Mir. Officers and Souldiers. Fight.
Front.
Ha! Who art thou ſo young, yet do'ſt ſuch wonders,
Thou art truly Brave by Heav'n.
Mir.
So Brave, that 'tis a moſt Opprobrious ſhame
That he ſhould poorly be oppreſt by Odds:
My Lord, give orders that your Men retire,
I am alone ſufficient.
(Advancing.
Front.
Hold Kinſman, Miramont I charge thee hold.
Ul.
Ha! Miramont!
Mir.
Yes, what haſt thou to ſay to Miramont?
Ul.
Come on, and twice in one Revolving Sun
Receive thy Life from me.
Mir.
Ha! my Preſerver?
Theſe are the only Arms I'll uſe with thee;
[...]
Reſign thy Sword, and thy Defence to me:
This is Count Frontenac our Captain General,
Allied to me in Blood, allied in Soul,
Dearer then all Relations as my Friend,
And I have made Him Swear my Brave Deliverer
Should be both Safe and Free.
Ul.
This morning by thy Looks I thought thee Honeſt,
And in thy words a Generous Mind appears,
How comes it that thou Vilely could'ſt deſcend
[43] To ſhare the Guilt of this Perfidious act?
Mir.
I ſhare it not,
For I return'd not to attack the Angians,
But to deliver thee:
Know I deteſted this Perfidious Deed;
But what can one againſt a Multitude,
Or the Commands of Arbitary ſway?
Our General too deteſts it in his Heart.
Ul.
And yet performs it? What a Riddle's this?
Front.
I dare not diſobey Superiour Pow'r.
Ul.
In all new France no Pow'r excells thy own.
Front.
From Europe the ſevere Command arriv'd.
Ul.
But why this odious Treaſon?
Front.
Thrice have I orders from the Court receiv'd,
To ſpare no Force, nor Art, nor Coſt, nor Fraud
To ſeize upon the General of the Angians.
Ul.
Ha! Wherefore?
Front.
'Tis He's the furious Thunderbolt of War,
That maks th' unconquer'd Iroquois ſo dreadful,
To us more Mortal then a General Plague,
Conſumes our Colonies, deſtroys our Men,
Slaughters our faithful Friends and our Allies;
Nay Vows t' Extirpate all the Gallick Race;
Their very Memories, and their Names from Canada.
Ul.
D'oſt thou know Him!
Front.
His Deeds have made him, too much known to France,
But for his Face, I never yet beheld it,
Yet by the Angians obſtinate defence
Before this place: I thought to have found him here,
Thou may'ſt diſcover where he lies conceal'd,
For the other Slaves are obſtinately Dumb.
Ul.
What would'ſt thou with him?
Front.
When I have got him in my Pow'r, he dies,
For ſo my Orders from the Court require,
And I have Sworn, he ſhall not Live an hour.
Ul.
Then raſhly haſt thou Sworn, and thou art Perjur'd:
Front.
Preſumtuous Boy!
Ul.
Yes, thou art Perjur'd
For [...]ou haſt Sworn to thy Relation there,
The General of the Angians ſhou'd be free.
Front.
Yet more preſumptuous!
Would'ſt thou, who art not old enough to ſerve;
[44] Would thou pretend to lead an Army?
Ul.
Yes;
They whom the Gods Inſpire are ne're too young,
And they have ſet up me, to ſave my Country;
And drive out Tyrants, from this Indian World.
Front.
I ſee thou haſt a Soul above thy years,
And that exalted Soul muſt ſcorn a Lye;
Thou art the General then, ſince thou haſt ſaid it,
Here take him Guards, and lead him to his Fate.
Mir.
Confuſion! Hold there! What do you mean my Lord?
Front.
I mean to take his Life.
Mir.
But that you muſt not.
Front.
How; muſt not?
Mir.
No; ſhall not, dare not.
Front.
And who dares hinder me? I here am Abſolute.
Mir.
You have given your ſolemn Oath, and dare not break it.
Front.
I had given the King my Solemn word before:
I'ſt not the Kings Command?
Mir.
No, 'tis unjuſt, the King can do no Wrong:
He who Commands injuſtice, is no King;
Nor are we bound t' Obey.
Front.
Always a Male-content!
Mir.
Am I alone?
Are there not Thouſands here in Caneda?
O would you kearken to great Natures call.
Front.
Away! I hear thee not,
But for this Angian, inſtantly he dies
Take him away there.
Mir.
The Dog who firſt lays hold of him ſhall Periſh;
As long as I have Life, I will defend him.
Front.
Hold there!
That Life is forfeited if I wou'd take it;
But fondly thou preſum'ſt upon my Love.
Ungrateful Miramont! Art thou my Friend?
Who ſeek'ſt my Infamy, who ſeek'ſt my Ruin?
Mir.
I ſeek your Honour.
Front.
My Honour! mind your own.
Mir.
I will, I do:
Whoſe Honour here is more concern'd than mine;
Depending on your Faith, I gave my Honour
To ſee this Noble youth both Safe and Free;
And 'twas the truſt that he repos'd in that.
[45] Made him deliver up his Sword to me:
I have giv'n my Honour, and I will maintain it;
And yours, tho' you neglect it.
Front.
Ha! have a care!
Mir.
I will have no care; here take my Life,
'Tis that I know you Thirſt for, and 'tis yours.
Front.
I am but too tender of it.
Mir.
To tenderneſs thy Souls an utter Stranger:
He tender of my Life, who takes my Honour!
Front.
Upon thy Life no more? Come yet I am thy Friend.
Mir.
You never were.
Front.
O thou wilt Rouſe the Lyon till he tears thee.
Mir.
Here let him tear me! What's this wretched Breaſt,
Without the unſullied Jewel, of the which
You baſely would deprive it.
Front.
Ha! Am I then defy'd, here Seize him Guards,
Kill him if he Reſiſts: Hold, Gods he Bleeds!
Mit.
Yes, 'tis the Blood ſo oft I've ſhed for you.
Front.
It is indeed; that thought coolls all my rage:
What woulſt thou have at laſt? My utter ruine?
Come, thou ſhalt have thy wiſh.
But wilt thou then believe I am thy Friend?
Mir.
How can you think that he deſires your Ruine,
Who has ſo oft ſhed his beſt Blood to ſerve you;
No, I will die before I will ſee that;
Nay he ſhall die too:
But come my Lord, conſider e're you act;
Behold this noble Youth with all your Eyes,
Reflect upon his Worth, ſurvey his Perſon.
Front.
I have conſider'd all.
Mir.
Is not his Courage more than common?
Front.
Heroick.
Mir.
His Magnanimity?
Front.
Godlike.
Mir.
His Perſon?
Front.
The pleaſure of my Eyes;
And were he not my Country's mortal Foe
How I could doat on ſuch uncommon worth.
Mir.
Come, come, my Lord, your Country's Foes are they,
Who trample under foot its Native Rights:
Not they who Fight againſt Tyrannick Sway;
[46] But all this while this Fair one we neglect:
Yet She is Fair—
Front.
A Miracle of Beauty;
Mir.
And ſeems to have a Soul above her Sex:
Look how her mournful Eyes move melting pity!
In which the greatneſs of her mind appears,
That ſtrugles to repreſs her mighty Woe;
So ſoft, ſo young, ſo tender; yet ſo firm!
By her this wretched Youth ſhould be a Lover.
Is She thy Miſtriſs or thy Wife?
Ul.
Oh thou haſt found a way to break my Heart;
This ſtubborn Heart which Fate could not ſubdue!
For when I think of what She undergoes,
In my tumultous Breaſt it ſinks and dies.
Mir.
Is ſhe thy Miſtriſs or thy Wife? Nay ſpeak.
Ul.
Oh cruel Fate! Was ever Woe like mine?
Alas! She's both my Miſtriſs and my Wife
Mir.
We are no ſtrangers to the Pow'r of Love,
Nor to the Grief that hapleſs Love attends;
We know how Cruel 'tis, to be thus torn
From all that's precious to our Bleeding Hearts;
And ſhall we inflict thoſe piercing woes on others?
My Lord, my Lord, by powerful Love I charge you,
Whoſe Captive you have been, and yet remain,
Or is the Object of your Flame forgot?
Front.
O Never, never ſhall ſhe be forgot!
Mir.
Then by great Love, whoſe Captive you remain,
I here conjure you, ſpare this Captive pair;
By the remembrance of that Lovely [...]
By all the Bliſs you Enjoy'd with her ſo long;
By all your bitter Woe for her ſad Loſs,
And by thoſe ſighs you now profoundly draw
From your ſad Heart, th' Exhauſtleſs ſource of Woe.
Front.
O Miramont forbear, my Friend forbear,
Thou haſt rouz'd the Vultour ſlumbering in my Breaſt,
That gnaws my Heart aſunder.
Mir.
If Seperations hard to you my Lord,
Who long poſſeſt the Darling of your Heart,
And who from Life's Meridian now decline;
What muſt it be to him, whoſe Youthful Blood
Feels all the ſtings, of violent Deſire?
[47] To him my Lord, to whom Poſſeſſions new;
He and his Wife, in their firſt Charming Bloom,
Can never have Enjoy'd each other long,
How long haſt thou been Marry'd?
Ul.
Ye Gods, ye Gods, let me not think of it!
Mir.
Nay anſwer me, I ask it but to ſerve thee.
Ul.
Thou ſeeſt that I am ready for my Fate;
But let me Dye, as I have Liv'd, a Man,
For thou wilt make a Woman of me,
This very fatal Ev'ning joyn'd our Hands.
Mir.
This night! this very night! O Earth and Heav'n,
I'ſt poſſible? No ne're was Woe like thine!
Thy Wife is then a Virgin, yet untouch'd,
And that thou Lov'ſt her more than Life it ſelf,
Thy ardent, and thy melting Eyes declare:
Thou for this Night perhaps haſt languiſh'd long,
Or long haſt been upon the painful Wreck,
Been toſt Alternately, from eager hope
To Mortal fear; from Fear to Hope again,
And we ſurpriz'd thee in the laſt Impatience;
Eager for Bliſs, and panting to the Goal;
And muſt Death cut off all thy charming Hope,
Ev'n in th' enchanting height of Expectation?
This is unheard of, this is monſtrous Cruelty.
Come, you muſt melt, my Lord, you ſhall, you do,
We ſhall not elſe be look'd upon as Men;
As men, the very Lyon and the Tyger
Wou'd be leſs Barbarous, would be leſs Inhumane,
And here's a ſight, that in their Savage breaſts
Might raiſe a tender ſenſe of humane Woe.
Front.
This is indeed deplorable.
Mir.
My Lord, my Lord, you utterly forget,
That we our ſelves have Wives and Children too,
That languiſh if they Live in hard Captivity,
Tho' where we know not; yet the Powr's above
Behold them, and prepare with dreadful Plagues
To viſit our Crimes upon their Innocence,
And all th' injuſtice, and the crying Cruelty
Which we inflict on this unhappy Pair,
On thoſe poor Innocents will be Reveng'd!
Front.
[48]
I'll hear no more;
For thou wilt melt me, to my Ruin Miramont;
And theſe by my Diſtruction thou would'ſt Save;
Thou know'ſt the Kings Commands are moſt ſevere.
Mir.
And moſt unjuſt
But Arbitrary Kings, are always Slaves
To Intereſt: their Implicit grand Command
To all their Subjects, is to advance that,
To which all Orders are ſuppos'd to tend;
But 'tis the apparent Intereſt of the King,
To ſpare this Valiant Youth, which when you ſhew.
Front.
But how can I ſhew that?
Mir.
Why would the King deſtroy him?
Front.
Once more I tell thee;
Becauſe he is his Mortal Foe declar'd,
And is beſides the univerſal Soul
That warms, and moves, and animates theſe Nations,
T' oppoſe his vaſt Deſigns, whom when they looſe
The very Spirit, that ſupports them gone.
Mir.
If he declares for us, they looſe him more
Than if he Dies; becauſe we gain him then.
Front.
But he's too Lofty, and too Fierce for that,
He'll ne're declare for us.
Mir.
(apart)
I would not have him, but I muſt gain time,
which if I compaſs, I may yet preſerve him
[To Front.]
Not Inſtantly; His Souls too great for that;
But give him time my Lord.
Front.
The Engliſh may return, the Angians Rally,
And then, he may be wreſted from our hands;
How ſhou'd I anſwer that?
Mir.
Before the Morning they can ne're return;
Give him till point of Day, and let this Fair one
Try her perſuaſive Pow'r.
Front.
Captain?
Offi.
My Lord!
Front.
The Charge of theſe two Priſoners muſt be yours;
But keep your Guard, for Half an Hour at diſtance;
That their Diſcourſe may not be overheard
If in that time he will declare for us,
Let him be left here with his Beauteous Bride;
But place a guard without that may protect them.
[49] If he refuſes, bring him ſtrait to me
And her Convey to th' other Female Captives.
Now Angian, Life or Death are in thy choice;
If thou wilt Swear t' embrace our Intereſts,
A Glorious Inſtrument thou mayſt become
To make theſe Nations Subject to our Sway,
And then thou ſhalt be Happy, ſhalt be great,
And under us Rule all th' Jroquian Tribes:
If thou Refuſeſt thou ſhalt ſurely Die.

Scene the 6.

Ulamar, Irene.
Ul.
Ah poor Irene!
Ire.
Wretched Ulamar!
Ul.
We but juſt are met—
Ire.
And we muſt part. Would'ſt thou not tell me ſo?
Ul.
We muſt; for ever part.
Ire.
Who could have thought it!
Ul.
Who could have beleiv'd it?
Ire.
That wiſh'd for Happineſs ſhould be ſo near.
Ul.
And be ſo ſoon, and ſo entirely loſt.
Ire.
Ah cruel change!
Ul.
O mortal Woe! one Kiſs, and then farewel.
Ire.
The Gods have giv'n to others to fare well.
O miſerably muſt Irene fare!
Art thou in haſt to leave thy Bride for ever?
Ul.
My Life! can I avoid it? I muſt leave thee;
Thou ſeeſt the Spouſals Cruel Fate prepares for us,
Theſe are the Wedding Joys that Heav'n provides us;
Farewel! A longer ſtay will quite unman me,
Eternally Farewell—O Curſed parting
[Kiſſes her.
O Charming, earneſt of Immortal Bliſs,
Which I muſt ne'er enjoy!
Ire.
The Gods, the Gods reward this Faithleſs Race.
Ul.
Me rather Curſe, Yes, Curſe my damn'd Credulity;
O Fool, fool, fool, to be thus groſsly chous'd
By theſe vile tricking Slaves! O I am loſt!
But Juſtly there's the Torment Juſtly loſt,
I poorly ran the hazard of my Country
To ſave my Houſe, and on my Houſe the firſt
The greateſt, and moſt diſmal Vengeance Falls.
Ire.
[50]
But loſt Irene's moſt of all undone,
Conſider what I am, and what I was
In the beginning of this Fatal Night;
Was I not Happy?
Ul.
Thou waſt indeed.
Ire.
How am I fall'n!
Ul.
Oh thou art plung'd in an Abiſs of Woe!
Ire.
If I appear to abraid thee Ulamar;
Think there's a wonderous reaſon for't, who caus'd
This dreadful Revolution in my Fate?
Ul.
Who but a Dog, who but a Dog?
O I could tear my ſelf!
Ire.
Thine is the Fault, but whoſe muſt be the Pain?
But whoſe muſt be the Horrour?
Ul.
Oh that it might be mine! might all be mine?
Ire.
Thy Enemies will ſoon deliver thee,
And Death will be thy Friend; his Icy hand
Will ſoon convey thee to that Bliſsful Land,
Where thou ſhalt Swim in Everlaſting Joy,
Where thou wilt ſoon forget thy Lov'd Irene.
Ul.
Oh never! never!
Ire.
The Tranſitory Pains of Death with thee
Will ſoon be o're, but I ſhall feel them long;
Of thy ſad Death how long may I be Dying,
For I have neither Enemy, nor Friend
That will deliver me; but muſt be left
Alone! Oh all alone, I ſhall be left
Without my Country, and my dear Relations,
Without my Faithful Friends, nay without thee,
Who wert Relations, Country, all to me.
O that thou wert! O that thou would'ſt be all!
Ul.
Thou Miſerableſt of the Race of Women, What would'ſt thou?
Ire.
Thou ſeeſt in what Condition I am left,
In what Perfidious, in what Barbarout Hands;
Say, what am I to expect when thou art gone,
From ſuch a Cruel, ſuch a Faithleſs Race?
Ul.
Oh Damn them—damn them, O Revenge, Revenege!
I'd give the World that thou wert in my Pow'r
Ire.
Say Ulamar, for thou haſt known me long;
Say, did I e're appear thus mov'd before?
Ul.
[51]
No, Never, never, [...] is on thy Brow,
And thy Soul's teeming with ſome wonderous Birth;
Let it be ne're ſo dreadful bring it out,
The worſt of Fate I have already felt.
Ire.
If e'er thou lov'd'ſt me with a Noble Paſſion,
'Tis time to ſhew it now.
Ul
Whither art thou going?
Ire.
Once more tell me,
Who brought this Load of Woe upon my Head.
Ul.
Oh Damnation! oh!
Ire.
From whom ſhould my Delieverance then proceed?
Ul.
Lightning this moment blaſt me! muſt I then
Betray my Country, or Abandon thee!
Ire.
Say, tho' a poor diſtreſsful, Widow'd Virgin,
Yet am I not thy Wife.
Ul.
My Deareſt VVife!
Dearer then is the Blood that warms my Heart,
But ruin'd Angiae is my Country ſtill.
Ire.
Wilt thou do nothing for Me Ulamar;
Is not my Honour thine?
Ul.
It is, and mine is thine?
And therefore I ll preſerve it, true to thee,
To Heav'n and Nature, and to Ruin'd Angiae.
Ire.
And I would have thee Conſtant to them all;
For if thou prov'ſt a Traytor to the Reſt,
Thou wilt be ſo to me.
Ul.
Ha! Is there another way to thy Deliverance?
I'll ſhed the Blood that's Deareſt to my Heart
T' obtain it.
Ire.
The Blood that's deareſt to thy Heart?
Ul.
By the great mind I will.
Ire.
Is not that Blood Irene's?
Ul.
Thy Blood! O Horrour! what haſt thou propos'd?
Ire.
Yes thou muſt ſhed it, Ulamar, and Die.
Ul.
Am I a Devil?
Ire.
What can'ſt thou ſtay to expire in fearful Torments,
Inſulted o're by theſe inhuman Slaves;
Thou haſt a Ponyard tho' thy Sword is gone.
Ul.
I have, and thus I uſe it.
Draws the Dagger, offers to Stab himſelf.
Ire.
[52]
Hold, by Almighty Love [...]arge thee hold;
O Look upon me with an Eye of Mercy,
And plunge it here; le [...] me not ſee thee Die:
Have Mercy Ulamar, and kill me firſt.
Ula.
What give thee Death? Upon this Sacred Night?
Is that a Bridegroom's gift. The Gods the Gods
Deliver thee, while [...]us I free my ſelf.
[Offers to ſtab [...]
Ire.
Thou ſhault not die, inhumane as thou art;
How could you have the cruel heart t' attempt it?
To leave me here to this perfidious Race:
My Father, Country, Friends, all, all are gone,
And can'ſt thou leave me too, my Life? Can'ſt thou?
Can'ſt thou? Thou ſhalt not. I will die before thee.
Ul.
O hold!
[...]
That diſmal blow I muſt not, dare not ſee.
Ire.
Think what the French when thou art gone Come death
And free my Breaſt from this diſtracting thought.

Scene 7.

Ulamar, Irene, Officer, and Guards.
Offi.
Ha Slaves! Is this the uſe you make of proffer'd Mercy?
Haſt! Tear them aſunder.
Him to Count Frontenec in Bonds conduct,
And her convey to th' other Female Captives:
Bring them away there.
Ul.
Ah poor Irene? May the Gods protect thee:
Take in this Dying look my laſt Farewel;
Death's cruel'ſt Pang is parting thus from thee.
Ire.
Oh Gods! What dreadful Fate's reſerv'd for me!
The End of the Fourth Act.
[53]

ACT V. SCENE I.

Ulamar, Frontenac, Miramont.
Front.
COme, be not guilty of thy own Deſtruction!
Believe it, I would gladly be thy Friend;
Beſides that, I reſpect thy wondrous Virtue;
There's ſomething ſo engaging in thy Perſon,
That I'm inclin'd with tenderneſs to Love thee;
But think th' Irrevocable moments fly;
The time approaches when thou muſt reſolve.
Ul.
What to Betray my Truſt? To be a Villian!
Front.
Miſtake me not fond Youth!
Aſſiſt us to ſubdue theſe Warlike Nations;
And under us thou ſhalt Command them all.
Ula.
What right have I to rule theſe Warlike Nations
Front.
The Juſteſt in the World, the right of Nature:
Thou ſingly haſt more Virtue than them all;
And therefore art by Nature form'd to rule them.
Ul.
With bare Deſert a generous mind is ſatisfy'd;
If I have Virtue give me leave to keep it?
Complying with thy offer would deſtroy it,
And I ſhould then have more and blacker Crimes
Than all the warlike Iroquois together;
But thou miſtak'ſt thy Man, I have a Soul
That ſcorns a Tyrant, and a Slave alike;
And thou would'ſt have me both:
But ſince thy offer kindly is deſign'd;
Ingratitude I doubly will return it.
Front.
Return it, ſay'ſt thou? How?
Ul.
Set me but free, and I'll in kind return it.
Front.
In kind?
Ul.
Yes, Rouze thy ſelf, and ſhake off this vile Yoak,
Under the which thou bow'ſt thy Neck and groan'ſt:
I'll make thee King of all Canadian France,
And the brave Engliſh, and the Warlike Iroquois
Shall both ſupport thy Claim.
Front.
[54]
I'll hear no more; ſay, wilt thou Live or Die.
Mir.
Nay, hear him out; 'tis barbarous to refuſe it:
Methinks that I could hear him talk for ever.
Front.
Yet be advis'd and Live.
Ul.
Not on thy terms, I'm not of Life ſo fond;
Weigh both our offers, and judge which is Juſter;
Tyrant and Slave at once thoud'ſt have me [...]
And weaken and debaſe my freeborn mind;
That's independant now of all but Heav'n;
And a [...] in a Man [...]
The greateſt, beſt of Men are but my equals:
The guilty like thy Maſter my Inferiours.
Front.
Thou haſt a noble Soul by Heav'n.
Mir.
A Godlike one.
Ul.
Oh how unlike is what I ask of thee?
I would Eſtabliſh thee a Lawful King,
And o'er a happy People ſhalt thou Reign,
Would break thy ignoble Bonds, and give thee means
T' aſſert thy Liberty, t' aſſert thy Virtue;
For lurking in thy breaſt I ſee the Seeds
Of ev'ry noble Virtue; but by cuſtom
And vain opinion choak'd, and blind obedience
To the unjuſt ambition of thy Maſter.
As thou art Man, thou art Generous and Brave,
True Maganimity adorns thy mind,
And thou art as Dearly awful to my Soul
As if thou wert my Father.
But as thou art French, thou art Baſe, Perfidious, Perjur'd,
And Sacrificeſt to thy Tyrants will
Thy very Honour, and thy very Virtue.
Mir.
Mind that my Lord.
Ul.
Thou would'ſt have me Betray my Truſt, my Country,
The Solemn'ſt and moſt Sacred of all Truſts.
I would have thee deliver thoſe thou Rul'ſt,
And free them from the Bonds that wring their Hearts,
And from the Cruel Scourge that makes them Roar:
Should I comply with thee, and ſhould undo
Theſe Generous Nations, who are happy now
In Innocence and Freedom; but would then
Be plung'd in Vice and endleſs Miſery;
How when I afterwards met woful ſights,
[55] Deplorable misfortunes, melting Objects;
How would my Heart, within my boſom Die
To think that I had done this:
But thou who hitherto miſtaken man,
Haſt proſtituted to thy Monarchs Pride
The nobleſt Talents of thy mind and Perſon,
Thy Wiſdom, and thy Courage haſt employ'd
To caſt all other Nations into Chains,
And Clinch, and Rivet thoſe that bind thy own,
Who haſt been Induſtrous to entail Deſtruction
Upon the Race of Men, to all Poſterity,
Ev'n thy Poſterity, thy wretched Children,
If thou haſt Children—
Front.
What Cruel griefs, has that Remembrance Rouz'd?
Ul.
How will thy Soul rejoyce when thon ſhalt come.
To turn thoſe Talents to their Nobleſt uſe,
To bring the Nations round to Happy freedom,
And make Attonement to our Indian World,
For all the Woes thy Curſt Ambition caus'd!
What Inexpreſſive Joy will ſeize thy Breaſt,
When thou ſhalt every where meet happy objects,
And think to thee, that Happineſs they owe!
To hear the Shouts, the General Acclamations,
Th' unnumber'd Bleſſings pour'd upon thy Head:
O would'ſt thy Rouze thy ſelf, and break thy Chain
How would thy Virtue, and thy Glory Shine!
And to what Height thy Happineſs would Soar!
Then Impious War ſhould here for ever ceaſe
Which never came among theſe Happy Groves,
'Till thy falſe Race, firſt Landed on our Shoar.
For 'tis for Liberty we War, not Empire;
While at the Blood we ſpill we hourly ſigh,
And Curſe the Falſhood of deteſted Slaves,
That rudely force us to Deſtroy our kind.
How ſhameful 'tis, that Men whom Heav'n has form'd
Of this vaſt Univerſe; the fellow Citizens
Should thus wage Civil and unnatural War:
All Creatures that have Life, but Men agree;
The fierceſt and moſt Savage of the Beaſts,
That makes the Foreſt tremble at his Roar,
[56] Loves his own Figure, in another Beaſt,
And with him like a Brother Lives in Peace.
Ev'n Fiends themſelves with Fiends are more at Variance;
But Barbarous Man, makes Impious War on Man,
And Leagues with Fiends againſt his fellow Creatures.
Mir.
O Godlike Youth! aſſiſt me all ye Pow'rs
[apart.
Who Love mankind, and who delight in Mercy,
Aſſiſt my Juſt deſign.
Ul.
But if the Juſtice, of the Noble cauſe
The freedom of our Indian World won't move thee,
If giving laſting Happineſs and Peace
To all the Race of men, won't Rouze thy Blood,
If thy own Fame and Greatneſs won't prevail,
And if a Crown acquir'd ſo Brave a way,
Have no Temptations for thy Grovling mind,
Haſt thou a Son t' Inherit Bliſs or Woe,
For ſome will for their Children more perform,
Than for themſelves; and all the World beſides.
Mir.
A happy thought, ay, urge that motive Home.
Ul.
Nay, anſwer me!
Front.
Alas! thou hurt'ſt me, Probe that Wound no more
Ul.
Nay, if thou haſt, conſider while 'tis time,
On this Important now Depends his Fate,
And by thy Preſent choice he grows a King,
Becomes a happy and a Glorious King,
Or Lives and Dies a miſerable Slave;
Come, I can plainly ſee thou haſt a Son.
Mir.
Yes, yes, Brave Youth, we have Children, nay and VVive's,
But ſhamefully have been afraid to own them,
For fear our mighty Monarch ſhould grow Angry,
And that Vile fear has loſt them; if they Live,
They languiſh in a rude Captivity;
And to re [...]ive them, and to keep them ours,
VVe have no hope, but by thy Generous offer.
Come rouze my Lord, how long ſhall we have Patience:
Have Patience have Stupidity I would ſay!
For Patience is a Virtue, this a Vileneſs,
A very want of Spirits in our Blood:
Come how much longer ſhall we crouch and Fawn,
Yes Fawn like Dogs, the more, the more we're ſcourg'd:
But Dogs when Beaten only Fawn on Men
[57] Who were to them Superiour Creatures form'd:
No Dog will fawn upon a Dog who tears him:
Yes, 'tis a ſign we have Sacrific'd our Virtue,
Nay, and our very Reaſon with our Virtue,
When we can thus reſolve to offer up
Our Children to the Rage of Lawleſs Sway.
What is he? That he proudly thus commands us,
Not only to commit the baſeſt Crimes,
To grow the ſcourge of God, and be the plagues
Of Humane Race, while the French name is grown
A Horrour to each Corner of the Earth;
But that like Devils we our ſelves ſhould feel
Doubly the Torments we inflict on others;
Should on our Children endleſs Woes entail,
And grow the Curſe ev'n of our own Poſterity.
For what? That he o'er Europe may Inſult:
Yes, by the Woes of us and our Inſult.
What is't to us who Reigns, if we are Wretched?
And can we well be more? Is this our comfort,
That with our ſelves we make mankind too wretched?
A Comfort fit for Devils, not for Men.
Ul.
Ay, now thou art my Friend indeed.
Mir.
Pray where's his Pow'r that aws us into this?
What force has he, but what we fondly give him?
For what he wrongly calls his Pow'r is ours;
And ſhall we uſe our Pow'r againſt our ſelves:
Would any but a Wretch depriv'd of Reaſon,
Employ his Limbs to Wound himſelf and Children,
Becauſe another has the monſtrous Cruelty
To tell him 'tis his pleaſure.
Front.
I've heard too much.

Scene 2.

Ulamar, Frontenac, Miramont, Souldier.
Soul.
My Lord, to Arms, to Arms!
Front.
What ſay'ſt thou?
Soul.
As we advanc'd towards yonder Southern Gate,
Upon the Mountain fronting it, we ſpy'd
A Light aſcending to the Vault of Heav'n,
Which ſtrait expanding in a general Blaze,
[...] the Mountain with a Floud of Flame
And then deſcending with Impetuous courſe
Down to the Vale the Fiery Torrent rowl'd,
[58] And now both Hill and Vale appear on Fire:
'Tis thought the Routed Angians who eſcap'd,
Are now returning with their Engliſh Friends,
And by theſe numerous Lights direct their Nightly March.
Front.
Ha! We too in our turn ſhall be ſurpriz'd;
And which way move they?
Soul.
Directly towards the Southern Gate they advance.
Front.
Give orders that my Forces be drawn up;
My ſelf I'll lead them to the Southern Gate,
And warmly we'll receive this deſperate Foe:
Take care another Band of Fuzileers
Be Planted at the entrance to this place;
They ſhall receive my pleaſure as I paſs.

Scene 3.

Ulamar, Frontenac, Miramont.
Front.
Hold! Let me ſec! This Angian Captive yet
Is in my pow'r; how long he may remain ſo
Heav'n only knows! If he eſcapes I am loſt,
My orders from the Court are ſo ſevere,
On this Alarm my Duty calls me hence.
[To [...]
Ten Minutes yet thou haſt left thee to declare,
If before they expire, thou wilt be ours,
Thou may'ſt be happy, elſe thou know'ſt thy doom.

Scene 4.

Ulamar, Miramont.
Mir.
The time allow'd thee to reſolve is ſhort;
Then I entreat thee make thy deareſt uſe of it.
Ul.
I was about it.
Thou ſay'ſt thou art my Friend.
Mir.
I ſay I am thy Friend: Let Flatterers ſay
Brave Youth, for I have ſhewn I am thy Friend;
Live but an hour and thou wilt find me ſuch,
Find I have boldly ventur'd all to ſave thee;
Done more for thee than ever I would do,
Ev'n for my neareſt and moſt dear Relations;
Thou to my Soul are dearer than them all,
Related to me by a Nobler way;
My Kindred they in Blood, but thou in Virtue:
Ul.
[59]
Then let me take my leave of my Irene.
Mir.
Thou know'ſt not what thou ask'ſt, thy time is ſhort,
And ſhould'ſt thou ſee her, thy few pretious moments
Would be in empty Lamentations loſt.
Ul.
Then bind thy ſelf by Solemn Vows to Guard her
From all unworthy uſage when I'm gone.
Mir.
Come, I'll do more for thee;
For thou ſhalt Live, and be thy ſelf her Guardian:
What can'ſt thou poorly Die, and thy brave Friends
So near, who come to free thee from theſe Bonds,
To free us all from our Inſulting Tyrant!
Can'ſt thou deſert the great ſupports of Liberty,
And tamely Die?
Ul.
Tamely?
Mir.
Ay, Tamely!
Ul.
Oh give me but a Sword, and thou ſhalt ſee
How Tamely I will fall.
Mir.
How would'ſt thou uſe it.
Ul.
I'll thro' thy Numerous Sentries force my way,
And mounting o're the Ramparts Joyn my Friends.
Mir.
Impoſſible! Thou would'ſt betray thy ſelf
And me to Fate, and would'ſt prevent thy Friends.
Ul.
What can I do beſides!
Mir.
Declare.
Ul.
What for the French!
Againſt whoſe Crimes ſo Juſtly thou Inveigh'ſt?
Mir.
Do you think I ask thee to Declare for ever?
Thy Sentiments diſemble but an Hour.
Ul.
Is Death ſo Dreadful?
Mir.
Conſider but the happy Conſequence.
Ul.
The Conſequence is Guilt, Remorſe and Shame,
You puniſh with an Ignominious Death,
They who deſert your falſe and guilty Cauſe,
And would have me a Fugitive from Truth,
A Fugitive from Virtue?
Mir.
But for an Hour.
Ul.
But Virtue oft deſerted for an Hour,
Reſents it deeply, and upon the Wing
Is gone paſt all return.
Mir.
[60]
Three minutes yet are left thee to Declare.
Ul.
Then welcome Death the Fourth, for that brings Liberty.
Mir.
Think that the happineſs of ev'n a World
Depends upon thy Life.
Ul.
Know that Worlds Happineſs depends on one
Who will not have it ſav'd ſo baſe a way.
Mir.
If thou art ſo hard hearted to thy ſelf,
Do ſomething yet for me, who have done for thee,
More than thou know'ſt, or wouldſt with eaſe believe.
Ul.
Thou art ſo Generous, I could Die for thee,
Be ſatisfy'd with that.
Mir.
Nay but thou ſhalt not, thus continue obſtinate,
Deſcend to be intreated for thy ſelf.
Ul.
'Tis they are Obſtinate, who are in the wrong:
I never was more Right.
Mir.
'Tis paſt; How vain 'tis to contend with Fate.

Scene 5.

Ulamar, Miramont, Officer and Guards.
Offi.
Where is this Angian?
Ul.
Here.
Offi.
Count Frontenac our Governour, has ſent me
T' enquire of thee for whom thou wilt declare.
Ul.
For Liberty.
Offi.
Then Death ſhall ſet thee free:
Here bind him.
Mir.
Stay yet a Moment.
Offi.
I dare not ſtay,
Our General will be here Immediately,
And when he comes, expects to find him Dead.
Ul.
Farewell my abſent Dear, protect her Heav'n,
And make this gentle to her tender Heart;
'Tis a ſevere Divorſe, but we muſt bear it.
Mir.
How my Heart Bleeds for him.
Offi.
Come, away with him
Ul.
Wilt thou be good, and think of loſt Irene?
Mir.
Had I an only Daughter, Fair as Virtue,
She ſhould be leſs my Care.
Ul.
Farewel my Generous Friend.
Mir.
[61]
Let me Embrace thee, Dearer than my Life,
Dear as my Fame, this Seperation Wounds me,
And makes me Bleed, as if thou wert a part of me,
Dear hapleſs Youth, eternally Farewel!

Scene 5.

Ulamar, Miramont, Sakia, Officer, and Guards.
Sak.
He Lives, and the Eternal Pow'rs are Juſt
He Lives, ſtand off, and let a wretched Mother
Embrace the Joy and Comfort of her Life.
Oh Ulamar, thou darling of my Soul!—
Offi.
What means this Woman with her clamorous fondneſs:
Preſent, diſpatch him inſtantly.
Sak.
Hurt him, and thou ſhalt be Ten Years a dying.
Where's Miramont?
Mir.
Ha!
Offi.
Shoot him ye Slaves; how dare ye diſobey?
Mir.
Hold! On thy Life forbear! She ſhall be heard firſt.
Offi.
With this I ſhall acquaint our Governour.
Do you remain, and Guard your Priſoner well.

Scene 6.

Ulamar, Miramont, Sakia, and Guards.
Mir.
Who asks for Miramont?
Sak.
Sakia.
Mir.
Sakia?
Sak.
Yes; ſo the Angians call me; but I had
Another Name upon th' Huronian Lake.
Mir.
Tell now I never ſaw thee.
Sak.
I tell thee 'tis for Miramont I ask.
Mir.
Men call me Miramont.
Sak.
Thee? I know thee not.
How long haſt thou been here in Canada?
Mir.
The Sun has five [...] rowl'd about the Year,
Since firſt I Landed on your [...] Shoar.
Sak.
I want another Captain of thy Name.
Mir.
In Canada there is no other Miramont.
Sak.
I hou art miſtaken; I have often ſeen him,
And know him well.
Mir.
[62]
Twelve Years ago you may have ſeen another;
But then his Elder Brother Childleſs dy'd;
And he return'd to France.
Sak.
Ye have utterly abandon'd us ye Heav'ns!
And what became of him?
Mir.
In France Sev'n years with Honours Crown'd he liv'd,
And then he left it for a better World.
Sak.
Dead! Is he dead? O the moſt loſt of Women!
Mir.
Hear me.
Sak.
Anſwer me.
Who was that Miramont that Fought this morn
With my poor dying Son?
Mir.
'Twas I: But hear me Madam.
Sak.
Horrour and Deſtraction ſeize me!
Henceforth I'll be as deaf to all the World,
As Heav'n has been to me.
Mir.
Hear me but a word!
Sak.
At [...]ength ſhew mercy ye afflicting Pow'rs,
And ſend more weight to cruſh the Wretch you have made
Mir.
Strange Prepoſſeſſion!
Sak.
This weight of Woe I cannot, will not bear!
I faint, I die, ſupport thy wretched Mother,
And leave her not in this extream neceſſity.
Ah Woe! Thou art thy ſelf in dire neceſſity,
Hopeleſs, forlorn, of all the World miſtaken
But who has brought thee to this diſmal end.
O wretch, the moſt Accurſt of Heav'n! Thus, thus
I daſh againſt the Ground the fatal cauſe.
[Falls,
And art thou gone, for ever gone my Miramont:
Then all the World is gone with wretched me;
Here let me end my miſerable Life:
My miſerable Life's already ended,
And I am in the number of thoſe things
That were, and are no more. I come my Miramont! Methinks
I ſee thy awful Ghoſt appear,
And beckon me away to that ſtrange Land.
From whence there's no return: Yes now I ſee thee
Juſt with that mournful look, that fatal frown,
With which thou now for three ſucceſſive Nights
Haſt broke my dreadful Slumbers, t' upbraid me
For my unkind delay: But I it ſeems
[63] Flatter'd and cheated by falſe hope,
Miſtook the mortal Summons.

Scene 7.

Frontenac, Ulamar, Miramont, Sakia, Officer and Guards.
Sak.
Ha! Gods! He comes, with the ſame frown he comes;
Do you call this fancy! O I ſhall be mad,
I ſhall be mad with Joy, with Fear, with Wonder!
O thou who haſt the Charms to make Death lovely:
What would'ſt thou with that pale aſtoniſh'd look?
Such as the Dying wear, or Dead who ariſe:
Com'ſt thou to call thy miſerable Wife?
She comes, in life and death thy own Nikaia.
[Draws a Dagger.
Front.
Nikaia!
Sak.
Ha! more Aſtoniſhment! He ſpeaks, he calls;
Do you hear? Do you ſee? Or is this Madneſs all?
Front.
Oh my Aſtoniſh'd Soul! It is Nikaia:
Sak.
Again is an afflicted Tone he calls,
I come.
Front.
O hold!
[Lays hold on the Dagger.
Sak.
Ah Gods! He lives, I die; Ah Miramont!
Front.
Thou ſhalt die here then in theſe longing Arms;
Dear to my Heart, as the Life-Blood that warms it:
Feel how with Sprightly heats it calls thee back
To Life and Love again
Sak.
It is, it is my Miramont!
Oh 'tis too much ye Pow'rs, I connot bear it,
I Die, the mighty Joy devours my Life;
My Love, my Life, my Miramont.
Front.
And doeſt thou Live? and art thou in my Arms?
Where haſt thou paſt ſo many Cruel years?
O let theſe Tears of flowing Joy acquaint thee,
How bitterly I've mourn'd thy fatal Loſs!
What haſt thou Suffer'd in this rude Captivity?
O thou haſt ſuffer'd what no Tongue can tell?
How haſt thou mourn'd for thy afflicted Mate!
For ſure thy Grief was equal to thy Love,
And never any Flame could equal thine.
Sak.
No we will never, never part again!
Alas I had forgot [...] Miramont
Front.
[64]
Ha! What of that dear Creature! how I tremble!
Thy looks inform me, that my deareſt Hope
The Joy, and Comfort of my Life is loſt.
Sak
He Lives, but on the very Brink of Fate:
Alas! They Murder him!
Front.
They? who!
Sak.
The Barbarous Governour.
Front.
The Governour! my Life! what Governour?
Sak.
The Governour of this new France.
Front.
Who has deluded thee?
The Governour of France is in thy Arms.
Sak.
The Governour of France is Frontenac;
And art not thou my Miramont?
Front.
I always was, I always will be thine,
And formerly I was thy Miramont,
But by my Brothers death am Frontenac,
Thus are our names by cuſtom chang'd in France.
Sak.
O Horrour! horrour!
O wretch, what dreadful Guilt haſt thou eſcap'd?
Behold thy Son, whom thou art about to Murder?
Frone.
Ha! Where?
Srk.
There, there behold him.
Front.
Ha, thy wonder and thy Joy diſtract thee!
He who ſtands there, is General of the Angians.
Sak.
As ſure as he is General of the Angians,
He is thy Son and mine, 'tis thy own Miramont.
Front.
O I am loſt and ſwallow d up in wonder!
Ye Gods, ye Gods!
Theſe are events ſurpaſſing, all example;
Theſe are th' amazing Miracles of Fate!
Ha!
Periſh all Tyrants, and their black Commands!
[Embraces Ul.
Ul.
Ay, in that Godlike Voice, I hear my Father.
Front.
Oh Miramont! my Son, my Son, forgive me!
Ul.
You gave me Life, and you may take it back.
Front.
That Life I gave thee, to defend I'll die;
Dear to my Heart, and lovely to my Eyes!
Come to my Arms once more, Indulge thy Father's fondneſs,
My Wife, and Son recover'd in an Hour;
And ſuch a Son! O I am Bleſt
Above my fondeſt Hope.
[65] [...] a God, if nothing intervenes,
[...]terrupt this more than Mortal Joy;
[...] thou brave Miramont, my generous Friend,
[...] to whoſe rare and unexampled Virtue,
[...] the Joy and darling of my Life.
[...]race the worth thou haſt ſav'd, 'twas thy own Blood,
Mira. Em [...]. Ula.
[...]ch to preſerve, thou nobly did'ſt contend.
[...]
Why woul'ſt thou drive me to diſpair by, ſaying
Front. talks apart with his Son.
[...] Miramont was in another World.
[...]
You would not hear me out.
[...] eſteem this a World diſtinct from ours.
[...]
I muſt be gone, th' appointed minutes come.

Scene 8.

Frontenac, Ulamar, Sakia, Guards.
[...]ront.
Looſe thee, I'll looſe my ſelf firſt.
[...]
Your King will have it ſo, and I muſt die.
[...]ront.
Where are the Engliſh?
[...]
Ay, that's my Father's Voice, great Nature's Voice:
Voice of Heav'n is that. What ſhout is that.
[Shout.
[...]ont.
No Matter. Now the Angians are my Friends;
[...] thy flying Squadrons with the morn,
[...]
Before the Sun has finiſh'd three Careers;
[...] Warlike Engliſh, and th' united Iroquois,
[...] hail thee King of all Canadian France.
[...]ont.
VVhat Sacrifice my Son to Lawleſs ſway!
[...]
For Fifty rowling Years the wretched French,
[...] to their Tyrants Sacrific'd their Sons;
[...] raſh thoughleſs Men the Horrours leſs,
[...] th' effect inſenſibly comes on:
[...] have been the moſt abandon'd of all Slaves.
[...]ont.
But I'm a Slave; my aſpiring Boy no more.
[...]
Oh the bleſt ſound!
[...]ont.
O I am rous'd from my Lethargick Dream;
[...] when we have been refreſh'd with ſhort repoſe,
[...] will to Arms, to glorious Arms my Boy,
[...] Godlike Liberty ſhall be the word.
[...]
O that ſome Angel with his Golden Trump
[...] make that Voice thro' the wide VVorld reſound;
[66] That the Caeleſtial ſound might rouze Mankind to Liberty!
But ah, theſe Tranſports are too Fierce to laſt;
And th' Angry Gods remand me to my Griefs.
Where's my Irene?

Scene 9.

Frontenac, Ulamar, Sakia, Irene.
Ire.
She comes, ſhe flies to that Enchanting Voice.
Ul
O let me preſs thee to my very heart;
From which ev'n Fate had not the pow'r to tear thee.
Sir, I us'd no entreaty for my Life;
But for my Love thus low I humbly bow.
[Knee [...]
That you'd conſent to make it happy here.
Front.
Take her, She's thine; but cheriſh her like Life;
She merits all thy Love; and more I prize her
For the Rich Dowry of her matchleſs Virtue;
Than if extended Empire were her lot.
Sak.
O the moſt bliſsful hour of all my Life!
My long Calamities be quite forgot,
And let me give up all my Soul to Joy!
Ul.
VVhere haſt thou paſt this doleful diſmal hour;
In dreadful expectation of what Fate
VVas terribly about to execute?
Ire.
Among a Crowd of miſerable Slaves;
VVhere hearing of thy Death in wild Deſpair;
I made a dire attempt upon my Life,
When gracious Heav'n by Miracle preſerv'd me.
Ul.
To preſerve thee, what God would not appear?
Ire.
No, 'twas no God, but 'twas a Godlike Man.

Scene 10.

Frontenac, Ulamar, Sakia, Irene, Miramont, Beaufort.
Sho [...]
Ul.
'Twas he, by Heav'n, it cou'd be none but he,
Beaufort, thou beſt of Men, thou beſt of Friends,
Come to my Arms, come to my Heart my Friend;
This is the wondrous Man to whom I owe
[To Front.
My Life, my Liberty, my Fortune, Fame,
And 'tis to him that you my Mother owe.
Front.
[67]
Too warmly then I never can receive him.
[Embrace.
Ule.
Art thou Return'd? Art thou within our Walls?
Where haſt thou left thy Enſhliſh?
Beauf.
The Engliſh, and your Rallied Angians now
Are moſt within the Town.
Ul.
More Miracles! Aſtoniſhing event!
Front.
Now by my Soul, they'r truly welcome all;
And this exactly to my wiſh has happen'd;
But without Fighting, how could this be done!
Beauf.
While on the South we made a falſe Attack,
Brave Miramont upon th' appointed Signal
Gave us admirtance at the Northern Gate.
Front.
The appointed Signal, you amaze me, Sir.
Beauf.
Two hours are ſcarſe elaps'd ſince this brave Man
To me diſpatch'd a Meſſenger expreſs,
Inviting me to come and ſave my Ulamar,
And for my Entrance gave a certain Signal,
I on the warmeſt Wings of Frindſhip flew,
Yet had arriv'd too late with all my Speed,
Had not kind Heav'n in Mercy interpos'd
By this ſo wonderful Diſcovery,
With which Brave Miramont has Entertain'd me.
Front.
What ſay our Souldiers, Miramont?
Mir.
They with the Engliſh, and the Angians mix,
And Peace and Joy, in all there looks appear:
Impatiently they wait for your Aſſent,
To cry Hail Frontenac, and Liberty.
Front.
That ſhall not long be wanting.
Ul.
But now unanimouſly, thanks we pay,
To thee Brave Miramont, and thee my Beaufort,
O Truly Great! O Truly worthy Son,
Of Great Britania thro' the World renown'd,
For propping falling Liberty,
Supporting ſinking Nations!
There is more Excellence, more Godlike greatneſs
In reſcuing one poor wretch from Dire Calamities,
Than in ſubverting and deſtroying Empires,
And making Millions wretched.
Beauf.
To Heav'n unanimouſly praiſe return,
And thankful for this wonderful deliverance:
[68] Reſolve that Heav'n alone ſhall o're you Rule,
And caſt not off your Makers ſway for Mans;
Be Govern'd ſtill by Reaſon and by Law,
And let your Monarch ſtill be Heav'ns Vicegerent,
And execute his Maſters will, not his:
Thus Govern'd, we are Abſolutely Free,
Heav'n and good Kings give prefect Liberty,
And from this wonderous Night, let all Men learn,
Never to Sacrifice the Publick Good
Either to Foreign, or to Home-bred Tyrants,
For the vile Intereſt of themſelves and Families;
For that upon their Families and ſelves
Brings certain Ruin: May all France like you
[To Front.
Have their Eyes open'd, and with Horrour ſee,
How to their Tyrants will they offer up
Their Children, and their whole Poſterity
The thing which Heav'n and Nature moſt abhors;
May they ſee this like you, like you deteſt it,
Then grow like you, Impatient to be Free,
With us Aſſerting Godlike Liberty.
FINIS.
Notes
*
Propoſal for putting a ſpeedy end to the War, &c. ſold by Mrs. Baldwin.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4059 Liberty asserted A tragedy As it is acted at the New Theatre in Little Lincoln s Inn Fields Written by Mr Dennis. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-61CA-3