POCAHONTAS
ACT FIRST.
Scene 1. The banks of James' River. View of the river—two ships and a sloop at anchor in the distance—on one side of the stage a hut—composed of mats and reeds; on the other rocks and cliffs. Indians on the cliffs gazing at the shipping, and making signs to each other.
(Enter Matacoran and Selictaz, as from the chase; Matacoran with a light hunting spear in his hand, Selictaz carrying his bow and game—down rocks.)
Selictaz. There, my prince, behold the great canoes. Have I not told thee truly?
Matacoran. They are call'd barques, and bear the adventurous English in search of their darling gold, the god they worship! Away to Weorocomoco, and report this coming to the king. I will follow quickly on thy track. Fly with thy utmost speed—away.— (Exit Selictaz.) Barclay! English! come forth.
(Striking with his spear against the hut.)
(Enter Barclay.)
Barclay. Give you good morrow, Prince. So early return'd from the chase; yet, by your game, it would seem you have not drawn an idle bow.
Matacoran. Tell me, Englishman, are those the barques of thy country; or those wild rovers of which I have heard thee speak, who, acknowledged by no country, are consider'd enemies by all?
Barclay. (Aside, with ecstasy.) 'T is the flag of England. Prince, those are the barques so long expected with succours for the colony.—(Aside.) Alas! they have come too late.
Matacoran. Why do they remain at rest? why not approach the shore?
Barclay. They await some signal of recognition from those they expect to find here. I have bethought me of the old pennon under which I sail'd when first leaving my native land to seek adventures in the New World. From amid the wreck of our misfortunes, I have preserv'd the flag with the fondness of an old man's treasure. An' it please you, Prince, I will ascend the cliff, and waving the well-known signal of friendship, they of the ships will answer with their ordnance, and presently prepare to land.
Matacoran. Do as thou hast propos'd, and with the least delay. (Barclay enters the hut, then returns hearing a flag, ascends the cliff and waves it. A gun is fired from the ship; Matacoran starts, Indians utter cries, and fly from the cliffs in great terror.) 'T is well; and now. Englishman, hear me. The strangers, no doubt, will question thee as to the fate of thy comrades; beware of thy speech in reply, lest they become alarm'd at thy tale. Speak of the great King's virtues and clemency; how he sav'd thy life, that thou might teach his people the arts of the white man; and hath given thee lands and wives; and how his favours have made thee forget that ever thou wert a native of countries beyond the sea.
Barclay. Since I have taken service with the great King, I have not much to complain of; but all his favours, and his kingdom in the bargain, can never make me forget Old England, the land of my birth and affections; and tho' far distant from her, she is ever present to my sleeping and waking thoughts, while my heart, at sight of those vessels, yearns for the embrace of my countrymen. Surely, Prince Matacoran, the brave in war, the just in peace, the favourite of his king, the friend of his country, must admire that patriotic feeling in another, which he himself possesses in no ordinary degree. 'T is one of the first of the virtues, and one of the last that will abandon the generous bosom.
Matacoran. You're right;—but if you English so love your own country, why cross the wide sea to deprive the poor Indian of his rude and savage forests? But see, the smaller barques approach laden with the strangers; hear me—look
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