TECUMSEH. What shall my answer be?

PROPHET. Why, like my own--There is no answer save
that we shall go.

TECUMSEH. (_To_ BARRON.) I fear that our complaint
lies all too deep For your Chief's curing. The Great
Spirit gave
The red men this wide continent as theirs,
And in the east another to the white;
But, not content at home, these crossed the sea,
And drove our fathers from their ancient seats.
Their sons in turn are driven to the Lakes,
And cannot further go unless they drown.
Yet now you take upon yourselves to say
This tract is Kickapoo, this Delaware,
And this Miami; but your Chief should know
That all our lands are common to our race!
How can one nation sell the rights of all
Without consent of all? No! For my part I am a Red Man,
not a Shawanoe,
And here I mean to stay. Go to your chief,
And tell him I shall meet him at Vincennes.

[_Exeunt all but_ TECUMSEH.]

What is there in my nature so supine
That I must ever quarrel with revenge?
From vales and rivers which were once our own