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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.
ORSBOURN.
And I, since they betray'd and kill'd my Uncle; h.e.l.l seize their cruel, unrelenting Souls!
Tho' these are not the same, 'twould ease my Heart To cleave their painted Heads, and spill their Blood.
I abhor, detest, and hate them all, And now cou'd eat an Indian's Heart with Pleasure.
HONNYMAN.
I'd join you, and soop his savage Brains for Sauce; I lose all Patience when I think of them, And, if you will, we'll quickly have Amends For our long Travel and successless Hunt, And the sweet Pleasure of Revenge to boot.
ORSBOURN.
What will you do? Present, and pop one down?
HONNYMAN.
Yes, faith, the first we meet well fraught with Furs; Or if there's Two, and we can make sure Work, By Jove, we'll ease the Rascals of their Packs, And send them empty home to their own Country.
But then observe, that what we do is secret, Or the Hangman will come in for Snacks.
ORSBOURN.
Trust me for that; I'll join with all my Heart; Nor with a nicer Aim, or steadier Hand, Would shoot a Tyger than I would an Indian.
There is a Couple stalking now this Way With l.u.s.ty Packs; Heav'n favour our Design.
HONNYMAN.
Silence; conceal yourself, and mind your Eye.
ORSBOURN.
Are you well charg'd?
HONNYMAN.
I am. Take you the nearest, And mind to fire exactly when I do.
ORSBOURN.
A charming Chance!
HONNYMAN.
Hush, let them still come nearer.
[_They shoot, and run to rifle the INDIANS._ They're down, old Boy, a Brace of n.o.ble Bucks!
ORSBOURN.
Well tallow'd, faith, and n.o.ble Hides upon 'em. [_Taking up a pack._ We might have hunted all the Season thro'
For Half this Game, and thought ourselves well paid.
HONNYMAN.
By Jove, we might, and been at great Expence For Lead and Powder, here's a single Shot.
ORSBOURN.
I swear I've got as much as I can carry.
HONNYMAN.