202
POCAHONTAS, OR THE SETTLERS OF VIRGINIA
illy content, have tripp'd down with thy light-footed damsels, and will again surprise us with a masquerade. But that my beard is grizzled, and my face marvellously ill-favour'd by scars of foreign service, I might hope this visit was made to me, and receive thee as my lady love.
Pocahontas. A more fearful fate awaits thee;—even now, Matacoran at the head of seven hundred bowmen, all chosen from my father's guard, comes to surprise and slay thee. Arm, arm; I pray thee arm, and away.
Smith. To arms there, ho! (English spring up, arm, and are mustered by Percy.) By my faith tho', mistress, it would be but of ill savour to the fame of English cavaliers, were they to fly from the foe, leaving thee a distrest damsel behind. What say ye, Master Percy, could we expect favour from our dames were such ill fame to befall us?
Percy. Let the enemy come, we will bide their brunt. The Percy fears no odds.
Rolfe. We are but eighteen in all; but then our men-at-arms are all veteran soldiers bred in battle, and for our captain, a braver heart never throbb'd against a corslet.
Smith. Thank ye, my stout and worthy gentlemen. We will give this prince a right soldierly welcome—first a volley of hail shot, and then on him with sword and target.
Pocahontas. Nay, nay, your courage will not avail ye, the darkness will mar the superiority of your arms, while from every side will fly the poison'd arrows. Can Pocahontas ask a boon, which the English will deny?
Smith. After thy generous service, lady, thy boon is granted ere 't is ask'd.
Pocahontas. Then fly!! fly, my English, ere 'tis too late. Fly, I beseech ye.
Smith. Thou hast prevailed. But thou must bear us company; within our steely circle we will place our protectress, and the harm that reaches her must first destroy us.
Pocahontas. No, I must return; should the king learn that I have preserv'd thee, not even his belov'd daughter will escape his wrath. Pocahontas gone, who will befriend the English?
Smith. Lady, thy nobleness wins all our hearts. Grant me, I pray ye, a single feather of thy plume. (She gives a feather.) This will I wear on my helm.—Aye, and when the chivalry of Europe hold tournament in honour of their dames, I, thine own true knight, will appear in the lists, proclaim the Princess Pocahontas the most peerless of her sex, and shiver a lance in honour of the flower of Virginia.
(Exeunt all the English.)
Pocahontas. Now all is well—yet how the wind roars among the lofty pines, the heaving surge beats heavily on the shore, while the blazing sky serves to light Matacoran on his way. I must launch my little barque, and as it tosses amid the foam and fury of the waves, feel sure that good and guardian Spirit, which urg'd me to the rescue of my fellow creatures, will not forsake me amid the dangers of the storm. (Pocahontas re-embarks, and is seen at first struggling with the waves.—Exit.)
(Matacoran, Selictaz, and Indians enter. They rush to the spot where a lamp burns, and where Smith was sleeping.)
Matacoran. Now, soldiers, strike, and spare not ; strike for your country—Hah, escap'd! (Turning to Selicitaz.) Villain! thou hast deceiv'd me, and thou shalt die. Where are the English?
Selicitaz. Dread chief, an' I play ye false, let my bosom receive your spear. I left them buried in sleep, what hath alarm'd them I know not. Some spirit, my Prince, some spirit has come to their aid, and marr'd thy purpose.
Matacoran. Be it a good or evil spirit, I defy its power. Let's on, the day is dawning—we dare do by courage what we have fail'd is by surprise. On, I say.
(As they are going off, they meet Indians with Hugo de Redmond prisoner. Indians carrying his musket, shield, and sword.)
Matacoran. Stop—who have we here?
Indian. Prince, we found this old warrior lost in the mazes of the forest. We have disarm'd and brought him here to abide thy pleasure.
Matacoran. Who art thou? How cam'st thou away from thy companions?
Hugo. So please ye. Sir Savage, I am Hugo de Redmond, an old man-at-arms in the service of King James. My limbs are stiff, I had sat me down to await the day dawn, when these painted devils sprang upon me, and master'd my arms; an' my match had not gone out,
