(Coming from one side, where he hath stood listening.) 'Tis not to shew my Eloquence of Speech, Or drown your Senses with unmeaning Sound, That I desire Admittance to your Council; It is an Impulse from the Gods that moves me, That what I say will be to your Advantage. Oh! With what secret Pleasure I behold So many wise and valiant Kings unite, And in a Cause by Gods and Saints espous'd. Heaven smiles on your Design, and it shall prosper. You're going to fight the Enemies of God; Rebels and Traitors to the King of Kings; Nay, those who once betray'd and kill'd his Son, Who came to save you Indians from Damnation-- He was an Indian, therefore they destroy'd him; He rose again and took his flight to Heaven; But when his Foes are slain he'll quick return; And be your kind Protector, Friend, and King. Be therefore brave and fight his Battles for him; Spare not his Enemies, where-e'r you find 'em: The more you murder them, the more you please him; Kill all you captivate, both old and young, Mothers and Children, let them feel your Tortures; He that shall kill a Briton, merits Heaven. And should you chance to fall, you'll be convey'd By flying Angels to your King that's there Where these your hated Foes can never come. Doubt you the Truth of this my Declaration? I have a Witness here that cannot lie. [ (Pulling out a burning glass.) This Glass was touch'd by your great Saviour's Hand, And after left in holy Peter's Care; When I command, it brings down Fire from Heaven, To witness for me that I tell no Lie. [ (The INDIANS gather round and gaze.) Behold--Great God, send Fire, convince these Indian Kings That I'm thy Servant, and report the Truth, [ (In a very praying posture and solemn canting tone.) Am sent to teach them what they ought to do, To kill and scalp, to torture and torment Thy murderous treacherous Foes, the hateful English. [ (It takes fire; the INDIANS are amaz'd, and retreat from it.)

Priest Monologue from Ponteach; Or, The Savages of America

Rehearse Priest's monologue