And put thee in Possession of the Joy
That thou desirest more than Crowns and Empire.

CHEKITAN.

As how, dear Philip? Should we wage a War,
Which Hendrick disapproves, the Prize is lost.
Not Empires then could make Monelia mine;
All Hopes are dash'd upon that fatal Rock;
Nor Gold, nor Prayers, nor Tears, nor Promises,
Nor all the Engin'ry of Love at Work,
Could save a single Moment of my Joy.

PHILIP.

Yes, I will save it all and make her thine,
Act but thy Part, and do as I prescribe,
In Peace or War thou shalt possess the Prize.

CHEKITAN.

Thy Words revive my half-despairing Heart.
What must I act? or which Way must I turn?
I'll brave all Dangers, every Ill defy,
Risk Life itself, to call Monelia mine.
Help me, my Philip, and I'll be thy Slave,
Resign my Share of Empire to thy Hand,
And lay a Claim to nothing but Monelia.

PHILIP.

Rewards I do not ask; I am thy Brother,
And hold my Kindness to thee as a Debt.
Thou know'st I have engag'd to bring King Hendrick
To join the Lists, and fight against our Foes,
To rouse him to Revenge, and Rage, and War,
And make him zealous in the common Cause.
Nay, with uncommon Fury he shall rave,
And urge his Warriors on to Blood and Murder.
When this is done, Monelia may be thine,
Hendrick will court Alliance to our Tribe,
And joy to call great Ponteach's Son his own.

CHEKITAN.

But should you fail in these Attempts, and he
Prove obstinately fix'd against the War,
Where's then Monelia? where is Chekitan?
My Hopes are blasted, all my Joys are fled,
Like the vain Phantoms of a Midnight Dream,
Are scattered like the Dust before a Whirlwind,
And all my Soul is left a Void for Pain,
Vexation, Madness, Frenzy, and Despair,
And all the Pains of disappointed Love.
Better I ne'er had flattered my fond Heart,
Nor sooth'd my Mind with Prospects of my Joy,
Than thus to perish on the Point of Hope.

PHILIP.

Leave all to me; I've so concerted Matters,
That I defy ev'n Fate to disappoint me.
Exert thyself, and to Monelia go,
Before th' assembled Chiefs in Council meet;
Urge it to her, and to her Brother Torax,
That should their Father prove refractory,
Withdraw himself, and order his Domestics
To hasten home at News of our Design;
Urge it, I say, to them; Torax loves War;
To linger here in Hopes of his Return,
Which tell them I'll effect ere twice the Sun
Has run the Circuit of his daily Race.
Here they may loiter careless, range the Woods,
As tho' the Noise o