GRIMOSCO. Away! the Great Spirit commands you. Resume your seat; hold the white men in discourse; I will but thrice wave my hand, and your foes are dead. [_KING resumes his seat._] [_To MIAMI._] Now, prince, has the hour of vengeance arrived. POWHATAN. [_With a faltering voice._] Think not, white men, that Powhatan wants the knowledge to prize your friendship. Powhatan has seen three generations pass away; and his locks of age do not float upon the temples of folly. _GRIMOSCO waves his hand: the INDIANS steal behind the ENGLISH, MIAMI behind ROLFE. KING proceeds._ If a leaf but fall in the forest, my people cry out with terror, "hark! the white warrior comes!" Chief, thou art terrible as an enemy, and Powhatan knows the value of thy friendship. _GRIMOSCO waves his hand again; the INDIANS seize their tomahawks, and prepare to strike. KING goes on._ Think not, therefore, Powhatan can attempt to deceive thee-- _The KING'S voice trembles; he stops, unable to proceed. The INDIANS' eyes are fixed on GRIMOSCO, waiting for the last signal. At this moment the PRINCESS rushes in._ PRINCESS. Treachery to the white men! _At the same instant, drum and trumpet without. Music. The ENGLISH seize the uplifted arms of the INDIANS, and form a tableau, as enter DELAWAR and his party. After the music, the SOLDIERS take charge of the INDIANS. POCAHONTAS flies to the arms of ROLFE._ NANTAQUAS. O father! [_POWHATAN is transfixed with confusion._ SMITH. Wretched king! what fiend could urge you? POWHATAN. Shame ties the tongue of Powhatan. Ask of that fiend-like priest, how, to please the angry Spirit, I was to massacre my friends. SMITH. Holy Religion! still beneath the veil Of sacred piety what crimes lie hid! Bear hence that monster. Thou ferocious prince-- MIAMI. Miami's tortures shall not feast your eyes! [_Stabbing himself._ SMITH. Rash youth, thou mightst have liv'd-- MIAMI. Liv'd! man, look there! [_Pointing to ROLFE and PRINCESS. He is borne off._ POWHATAN. Oh, if the false Powhatan might-- SMITH. No more. Wiser than thou have been the dupes of priesthood. Your hand. The father of this gen'rous pair I cannot choose but love. My noble lord, I pray you pardon my scant courtesy And sluggish duty, which so tardy-paced Do greet your new arrival-- DELAWAR. Valiant captain! Virtue-ennobled sir, a hero's heart Will make mine proud by its most near acquaintance. [_Embrace._ SMITH. Your coming was most opportune, my lord. One moment more-- DELAWAR. Nay, not to us the praise. Behold the brilliant star that led us on. SMITH. Oh! blest is still its kindly influence! Could a rough soldier play the courtier, lady, His practis'd tongue might grace thy various goodness, With proper phrase of thanks; but oh! reward thee! Heaven only can--