قراءة كتاب Ponteach The Savages of America

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‏اللغة: English

Ponteach The Savages of America

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المؤلف:

Rogers Robert

دار النشر: Project Gutenberg

الصفحة رقم: 4

say you Englishmen are sometimes Rogues;
You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.

1st Indian.

No, English good. The Frenchmen give no Rum.

2nd Indian.

I think it's best to trade with Englishmen.

M'Dole.

What is your Price for Beaver Skins per Pound?

1st Indian.

How much you ask per Quart for this strong Rum?

M'Dole.

Five Pounds of Beaver for One Quart of Rum.

1st Indian.

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

M'Dole.

This little Weight. I cannot give you more.

1st Indian.

Well, take 'em; weigh 'em. Don't you cheat us now.

M'Dole.

No: He that cheats an Indian should be hang'd.

[Weighing the packs.

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

[Exeunt Indians to receive their rum.

Murphey.

By Jove, you've gain'd more in a single Hour
Than ever I have done in Half a Year;
Curse on my Honesty! I might have been
A little King, and liv'd without Concern,
Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.

M'Dole.

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

[Clapping his shoulder.

There's Ninety Weight of Sterling Beaver for you,
Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;
And, would my Conscience let me to the Thing,
I might enhance my Price, and lessen theirs,
And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.

Murphey.

I can't but thank you for your kind Instructions,
As from them I expect to reap Advantage.
But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,
They are malicious, and would have Revenge.

M'Dole.

Can't you avoid them? Let their Vengeance light
On others' Heads, no matter whose, if you
Are but secure, and have the Cain in Hand:
For they're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,
Whether on him that cheated, or his Friend,
Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,
Perhaps an honest Peasant, who ne'er dreamt
Of Fraud or Villainy in all his life;
Such let them murder, if they will a Score,
The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,
Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.

[Exeunt.

Scene II. A Desart.

Enter Orsbourn and Honnyman, two English Hunters.

Orsbourn.

Long have we toil'd, and rang'd the Woods in vain,
No Game, nor Track, nor Sign of any Kind
Is to be seen; I swear I am discourag'd
And weary'd out with this long fruitless Hunt.
No Life on Earth besides is half so hard,
So full of Disappointments, as a Hunter's:
Each Morn he wakes he views the destin'd Prey,
And counts the Profits of th' ensuing Day;
Each Ev'ning at his curs'd ill Fortune pines,
And till next Day his Hope of Gain resigns.
By Jove, I'll from these Desarts hasten home,
And swear that never more I'll touch a Gun.

Honnyman.

These hateful Indians kidnap all the Game.
Curse their black Heads! they fright the Deer and Bear,
And ev'ry Animal that haunts the Wood,
Or by their Witchcraft conjure them away.
No Englishman can get a single Shot,
While they go loaded home with Skins and Furs.
'Twere to be wish'd not one of them survived,
Thus to infest the World, and plague Mankind.
Curs'd Heathen Infidels! mere savage Beasts!
They don't deserve to breathe in Christian Air,
And should be hunted down like other Brutes.

Orsbourn.

I only wish the Laws permitted us
To hunt the savage Herd where e'er they're found;
I'd never leave the Trade of Hunting then,
While one remain'd to tread and range the Wood.

Honnyman.

Curse on the Law, I say, that makes it Death
To kill an Indian, more than to kill a Snake.
What if 'tis Peace? these Dogs deserve no Mercy;
Cursed revengeful, cruel, faithless Devils!
They kill'd my Father and my eldest Brother.
Since which I hate their very Looks and Name.