GEORGE WASHINGTON PARKE CUSTIS
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as a panther has been seen near the great oak, I will guard thee on thy way in safety to thy father's palace.
Pocahontas. Nay, good Sir Cavalier, we will not intrude so much upon thy courtesy. We have often tarried at the great oak, sometimes to enjoy the shade of its spreading branches, sometimes to shelter in its ample hollow from the summer shower, yet have we never seen beast other than the pretty deer that graze in the forest, or the nimble squirrel, leaping from tree to tree, chattering to its mates.
Rolfe. Not only duty and honour, but a warmer impulse, bids me be thy protector. I long to prove my sincerity: let's away—an' the panther spring, I will defend my charge, aye, to the very death.
(Exeunt Pocahontas, Omaya, and Rolfe.)
Mantea. The good Spirit guard them in safety. Here comes my husband, he seems in haste, and much disordered.
(Enter Barclay.)
Barclay. Where is the princess and the Cavalier?
Mantea. Gone, and the cavalier gone with her.
Barclay. Heaven be prais'd, then all is well. Hear me, Mantea—I have just discovered a horrible conspiracy to surprise and murder my countrymen; and the Indians knowing the attachment of the princess to the English, have caus'd Namoutac to lie in ambush at the oak, to seize the amiable girl and bear her off, till the conspiracy is completed. Happily my billet has been read and understood and the brave Cavalier will, I trust, defeat the plan, and protect the dear child from harm. Be secret on your life.
Mantea. Return ye to Weorocomoco to give the alarm to the English?
Barclay. I dare not leave this place; the Prince Matacoran has order'd me to remain here in charge of the presents; altho' no one would steal them, for they consist of a grindstone, of which the Indians know not the use, and two demi-culverins, which twenty could not carry away. I have had no means of communication with my countrymen but by the billet—Heaven send them a safe deliverance.
Mantea. I think I have discover'd that the princess and cavalier are not indifferent to each other.
Barclay.'T is well; but let women alone, whether savage or civiliz'd, for finding out the secrets of her sex. Hear me, Mantea, be silent, be secret, if it is in the nature of a woman to keep a secret; your life, your husband's life, your children's lives depend upon your prudence in the matter of this conspiracy. Come, take up the nets, and let's to our fishing; we must appear as if nothing had happen'd a little while—and then—
(Exeunt Mantea and Barclay.)
Scene 3. A wood, within which is a temple of matting and poles—an image of the Okee, or God—a Priest prostrate before it.
Powhatan. Now, priest—what says Okee; is he propitious?
Priest. Great king, the god will indulge thy prayer, but demands a heavy sacrifice.
Powhatan. Well, fifteen youths, I suppose, will content the Okee.
Priest. Fifteen, my king! Okee demands an hundred.
Powhatan. Enormous! Why at' that rate, I shall soon have none to offer; my kingdom will be depopulated. Go, try if he will not be content with fifty.
Priest. I dare not provoke the god; he will not be question'd a second time.
Powhatan. An hundred! I never gave more than fifty in all my wars.
Priest. Thy wars were with Monecans—the English are not Monecans.
Powhatan. If I give an hundred youths to the sacrifice, what am I promis'd, priest?
Priest. The entire discomfiture of all thy enemies.
Powhatan. But their guns—?
Priest. Will become harmless as blunted arrows—their lightnings may flash, their thunders roll, but they will be no more than the rumbling and glare from the summer cloud, where no bolt descends to shiver the pine.
Powhatan. Ensure me the head of Captain Smith, and the hundred is granted. Go, select the youths, array them in their white vestments, our affairs admit of no delay.
