Who ever yet showed mercy to his foes,
Yet, turning from his own, in pity's spite
Denies it to a girl. See, here I kneel!

IENA. And I! O uncle, frown not on our love!

TECUMSEH. By the Great Spirit this is over much!
My heart is made for pity, not for war,
Since women's tears unman me. Have your will!
I shall respect your love, (_To Lefroy_.) your
safety too.
I go at once to sound the Wyandots
Concerning some false treaties with the whites.
The Prophet hates you, therefore come with me.

[_The_ PROPHET _rushes in with a band of
Braves._]

PROPHET. She's here! Take hold of her and bear her
off!

TECUMSEH. (_Menacingly_) Beware! Lay not a finger
on the girl!

[_The Braves fall back_.]

PROPHET. There is no law Tecumseh will not break,
When women weep, and pale-face spies deceive.

MAMATEE. Ah, wretch! not all our people's groans could