Philip Monologue from Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America

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

male · anguished · 46 sec

I will with Speed; but first this bleeding Wound Demands my Care, lest you lament me too. (Exit, to have his wound dress'd. PONTEACH [solus). Pale, breathless Youths! Your Dignity still lives: [ (Viewing the bodies.) Your Murderers were blind, or they'd have trembled, Nor dar'd to wound such Majesty and Worth; It would have tam'd the savage running Bear, And made the raging Tyger fondly fawn; But your more savage Murderers were Christians. Oh, the distress'd good King! I feel for him, And wish to comfort his desponding Heart; But your last Rites require my present Care. [ (Exit.)

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