Chekitan Monologue from Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America

From Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America by Robert Rogers

male · defiant · 1:07 min

Oh vain Pretense! Falsehood and foul Deception! None but a Christian could devise such Lies! Did I not fear it might provoke your Gods, Your Tongue should never frame Deceit again. If there are Gods, and such as you have told us, They must abhor all Baseness and Deceit, And will not fail to punish Crimes like yours. To them I leave you--But avoid my Presence, Nor let me ever see your hated Head, Or hear your lying Tongue within this Country. (PRIEST: Now by St. Peter I must go--He's raging.) That Day I do, by your great dreadful God, This Hand shall cleave your Head, and spill your Blood, Not all your Prayers, and Lies, and Saints shall save you. (PRIEST: I've got his Father's Secret, and will use it. Such Disappointment ought to be reveng'd.) Don't mutter here, and conjure up your Saints, I value not their Curses, or your Prayers. [ (Stepping towards the PRIEST to hurry him.)

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