Bel. jun. If I have done you any service, pro- | mise me only one hour's conversation with your lovely daughter, and make what use of me you please. leave us. Sir Ben. Here's my hand, you shall have it; [Exit BEL. jun. Lady Dove. What am I to think of all this? It can't well be a contrivance; and yet 'tis strange, that yon little animal should have the assurance to face a man, and be so bashful at a rencounter with a woman. Sir Ben. Well, lady Dove, what are you musing upon? you see you are obeyed; the honour of your family is vindicated. Slow to enter into these affairs; being once engaged, I pertinaciously conduct them to an issue. -I- -I is here! Egad, I'm very glad on't-I've no notion of a female administration. [Erit. Lady Dove. What insolence is this, sir Benjamin? what ribaldry do you shock my ears with? Let me pass, sir; I'll stay no longer in the same room with you, Sir Ben. Not in the same room, nor under the same roof, shall you long abide, unless you reform your manners. However, for the present, you must be content to stay where you are. in Lady Dove. What, sir! will you imprison me my own house? I'm sick; I'm ill; 'I'm suffocated; I want air; I must and will walk into the garden. : Sir Ben. Then, madam, you must find some better weapon than your fan to parry my sword with this pass I defend: what! do'st think, afsetter having encountered a man, I shall turn my back upon a woman? No, madam; I have ventured my life to defend your honour; 'twould be hard if I wanted spirit to protect my own. Lady Dove. Sir BenjaminSir Ben. Here, Jonathan! do you hear? my things ready in the library; make haste. Lady Done. I say, sir Benjamin, I thinkSir Ben. Well, let's hear what it is you think. Lady Dove. Bless us all, why you snap one up so-I say, I think, my dear, you have acquitted yourself tolerably well, and I am perfectly satisfied. Sir Ben. Humph! you think I have done tolerably well? I think so too; do you apprehend me? Tolerably! for this business that you think tolerably well done, is but half concluded, let me tell you: nay, what some would call the toughest part of the undertaking remains unfinished; but, I dare say, with your concurrence, I shall find it easy enough. Lady Dove. What is it you mean to do with my concurrence; what mighty project does your wise brain teem with? Sir Ben. Nay, now I reflect on't again, I don't think there will be any need of your concurrence; for, nolens or volens, I'm determined it shall be done. In short, this it is; I am unalterably resolved, from this time forward, lady Dove, to be sole and absolute in this house, master of my own servants, father to my own child, and sovereign lord and governor, madam, over my own wife. Lady Dove. You monster! would you draw your sword upon a woman? Sir Ben. Unless it has been your pleasure to make me a monster, madam, I am none. Lady Dove. Would you murder me, you inhuman brute? Would you murder your poor, fond, defenceless wife? Sir Ben. Nor tears, nor threats, neither scolding, nor soothing, shall shake me from my pur pose: your yoke, lady Dove, has laid too heavy upon my shoulders; I can support it no longer: to-morrow, madam, you leave this house. Lady Dove. Will you break my heart, you ty rant? Will you turn me out of doors to starve, you barbarous man? Sir Ben. Oh! never fear; you will fare to the full as well as you did in your first husband's time; in your poor, dear, dead, Mr Searcher's time. You told me once you prized the paltry grey-hound that hung at his button-hole, more than all the jewels my folly had lavished upon you. I take you at your word. You shall have your bawble, and I will take back all mine; they'll be of no use to you hereafter. Lady Dove. O! sir Benjamin, sir Benjamin! for mercy's sake, turn me not out of your doors! I will be obedient, gentle, and complying, for the future; don't shame me; on my knees, I beseech you don't. Enter BELFIELD senior. Sir Ben. Mr Belfield, I am heartily glad to see you; don't go back, sir; you catch us indeed a little unawares; but these situations are not un◄ common in well-ordered families. Rewards and punishments are the life of government; and the authority of a husband must be upheld. Bel. sen. I confess, sir Benjamin, I was greatly surprised at finding lady Dove in that attitude: but I never pry into family secrets; I had much rather suppose your lady was on her knees to in tercede with you or my behalf, than be told she was reduced to that humble posture for any reason that affects herself. Sir Ben. Sir, you are free to suppose what you please for lady Dove; I'm willing to spare you that trouble on my account; and therefore, I tell you plainly, if you will sign and seal your articles this night, to-morrow morning Sophia shall be yours: I'm resolved, that the self-same day which consecrates the redemption of my liberty, shall confirm the surrender of yours. Lady Dove. O! Mr Belfield, I beseech you, intercede with this dear, cruel man, in my behalf! would you believe, that he harbours a design of expelling me his house, on the very day, too, when he purposes celebrating the nuptials of his daughter? Bel. sen. Come, sir Benjamin, I must speak to you now as a friend in the nearest connexion. I beg you will not damp our happiness with so melancholy an event: I will venture to pledge my self for her ladyship. Sir Ben. Well, for your sake, perhaps I may prolong her departure for one day; but I'm determined, if she does stay to-morrow, she shall set the first dish upon the table; if 'tis only to shew the company what a refractory wife, in the hands of a man of spirit, may be brought to submit to. Our wives, Mr Belfield, may teaze us, and vex us, and still escape with impunity; but if once they thoroughly provoke us, the charm breaks, and they are lost for ever. [Exeunt. SCENE I.-The sea-coast, as before. ACT V. Enter GOODWIN and FANNY. Good. WHAT you tell me, Fanny, gives me great concern; that Mr Francis should think to seduce the innocence of my child for a paltry bribe! what can have passed to encourage him to put such an affront upon you? Fan. Till this proposal, which I tell you of, I always took Mr Francis for one of the best behaved, modestest young men, I had ever met with. Good. To say the truth, Fanny, so did I; but the world is full of hypocrisy, and our acquaintance with him has been very short Enter FRANCIS. Hark'e, young man, a word with you! What is it I or my children have done to offend you? Fran. Offend me! what is it you mean? Good. When your vessel was stranded upon our coast, did we take advantage of your distress? On the contrary, was'nt this poor hut thrown open to your use, as a receptacle for your treasures, and a repose for your fatigues? Have either those treasures, or that repose, been invaded? Whom amongst you have we robbed or defrauded? Fran. None, none-your honesty has been as conspicuous as your hospitality. Good. Why, then, having received no injury, do you seek to do one? an injury of the basest nature-You see, there, a poor girl, whose only portion in this world is her innocence, and of that you have sought to Fran. Hold-nor impute designs to me which I abhor. You say your daughter has no portion but her innocence-assured of that, I ask none else; and, if she can forgive the stratagem I have made use of, I am ready to atone for it by a life devoted to her service. Good. Well, sir, I am happy to find you are the man I took you for, and cannot discommend your caution; so that, if you like my daughter, and Fanny is consenting-But, soft! who have we got here? Fran. I wish Mr Paterson was further for interrupting us just now. Enter PATERSON. Pat. Pray, good people, isn't there a lady with you of the name of Violetta? Good. There is. Pat. Can you direct me to her? I have business with her of the utmost consequence. Good. Fanny, you and Mr Francis step in and let the lady know. [Exeunt FANNY and FRANCIS. If its no offence, Mr Paterson, allow me to ask you, whether there is any hope of our young gentleman here, who is just returned, succeeding in his addresses to Miss Dove? Pat. Certainly none, Mr Goodwin. Good. I'm heartily sorry for it. Pat. I find you are a stranger to the reasons which make against it: but how are you interested in his success? Good. I am a witness of his virtues, and consequently not indifferent to his success. [Exit GOODWIN. Pat. To intreat the favour of your company at Cropley-castle upon business, wherein that lady and gentlemen are intimately concerned: | much of, and married to Mr Belfield! base and I presume, madam, you guess what I mean? Vio. Indeed, sir, I cannot easily guess how I can possibly be a party in any business between Miss Dove and Mr Belfield. I thought all intercourse between those persons was now entirely at an end. Pat. Oh! no, madam; by no means; the affair is far from being at an end. Vio. How, sir, not at an end? Pat. No, madam-on the contrary, from sir Benjamin's great anxiety for the match, and, above all, from the very seasonable intelligence you was so good to communicate to Miss Sophia, I am not without hopes that Mr Andrew Belfield will be happy enough to conquer all her scruples, and engage her to consent to marry him. Vio. Indeed! but pray, sir, those scruples of Miss Dove's, which you flatter yourself Mr Belfield will so happily conquer, how is it that ladies in this country reconcile themselves to such matters? I should have thought such an obstacle utterly insurmountable. Pat. Why, to be sure, madam, Miss Dove has had some doubts and difficulties to contend with: but duty, you know--and, as I said before, you, madam, you have been a great friend to Mr Belfield-you have forwarded matters prisingly. perfidious!-Why, madam, both Miss Dove and myself conceived that 'twas the young adventurer, with whom you suffered shipwreck, thatVio. What! Lewson, the brave, generous, honourable Lewson? Pat. Lewson! Lewson! as sure as can be, you mean young Belfield; for now, the recollection strikes me, that I've heard he took that name before he quitted England. That Lewson, madam, whom we believed you married to, is Robert Belfield, and younger brother to your husband. Vio. Mercy defend me! into what distress had this mutual mistake nearly involved us! Pat. Come, then, madam, let us lose no time, but fly with all dispatch to Cropley-castle. I have a post-chaise waiting, which will convey us thither in a few minutes: but, before we go, I'll step in and direct these good people to find young Belfield, and send him after us-Old Ironsides and all must be there. [Exit PATERSON. Vio. Let me reflect upon my fate---Wedded, betrayed, abandoned! at once a widow and a wife-all that my soul held dear, in the same hour obtained and lost! O false, false Belfield! sur-Strong, indeed, must be that passion, and deeply seated in my heart, which even thy treachery could not eradicate! Twice shipwrecked! twice rescued from the jaws of death!-Just Heaven! I do not, dare not murmur, nor can I doubt but that thy hand invisibly is stretched forth to save me, and, through this labyrinth of sorrow, to conduct me to repose. Vio. It is very surprising, truly, if I have. Pat. You seem greatly staggered at what I tell you I see you are a stranger to the principles upon which young ladies frequently act in this country. I believe, madam, in England, as many, or more, matches are made from pique, than for love; and, to say the truth, I take this of Miss Dove's to be one of that sort. There is a certain person, you know, who will feel upon this occasion. Vio. Yes; I well know there is a certain person, who will feel upon this occasion; but, are the sufferings of that unhappy one to be converted into raillery and amusement? Pat. Oh! Madam! the ladies will tell you, that therein consists the very luxury of revenge -But, I beseech you, have the goodness to make haste: my friend Mr Belfield may stand in need of your support. Vio. Thus insulted, I can contain myself no longer. Upon what infernal shore am I cast! into what society of demons am I fallen! that a woman, whom, by an act of honour, I would have redeemed from misery and ruin, should have the insolence, the inhumanity, to invite me to be a spectatress of her marriage with my own husband! Pat. With your husband! What do I hear? Is Mr Andrew Belfield your husband? Via. Ay-do you doubt it? Would I could say he was not! Pat. Just Heaven! you then are the Violetta -you are the Portuguese lady I have heard so Enter PATERSgn. Pat. Now, madam, if you will trust yourself to my convoy, I'll bring you into harbour, where you shall never suffer shipwreck more. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-SIR BENJAMIN DOVE's house. Enter SIR BENJAMIN DOVE and LADY DOVE. Sir Ben. Upon these terms and stipulations, lady Dove, 1 consent to your remaining at Cropley castle. Enjoy you your own prerogative, and leave me in possession of mine. Above all things, my dear, I must insist, that Mr Paterson be henceforward considered as my friend and com panion, and not your ladyship's. Lady Dove. Nay, but indeed and indeed, my dear sir Benjamin, this is being too hard with me, to debar me the common gratifications of every woman of distinction: Mr Paterson, you know, is my very particular friend. Sir Ben. Tis for his being so very particular, my dear, that I object to him. Lady Dove. Friendship, sir Benjamin, is the virtuous recreation of delicate and susceptible minds-Would you envy me that innocent plea sure? Why, you know, my dearest, that your passion for me, which was once so violent, is now softened and subsided into mere friendship. Sir Ben. True, my dear—and, therefore, I am afraid lest my love having, by easy degrees, slackened into friendship, his friendship should, by as natural a transition, quicken into lovesay no more, therefore, upon this point, but leave me to Mr Paterson, and Mr Paterson to me-Go-send Sophia to me-oh, here she comes: your ladyship need not be present at our conference; I think my own daughter surely belongs to my province, and not yours. Good morning to you! [Exit LADY DOVE. Enter SOPHIA. Well, daughter, are you prepared to comply with my desires, and give your hand to Andrew Belfield this morning? . Sophia. Sir! Sir Ben. My heart is fixed upon this eventI have watched late and early to bring it to bear; and you'll find, my child, when you come to peruse your marriage settlement, how tenderly I have consulted your happiness in this match. Sophia. Alas! I should never think of searching for happiness amongst deeds and conveyances- 'tis the man, and not the money, that is likely to determine my lot. Sir Ben. Well, and is not Mr Belfield a man? a fine man, as I take it, he is, and a fine estate I'm sure he has got then it lies so handy and contiguous to my own-only a hedge betwixt us -think of that, Sophy! only a hedge that parts his manor from mine-then consider, likewise, how this alliance will accommodate matters in the borough of Knavestown, where I and my family have stood three contested elections with his, and lost two of them-that sport will now be at an end, and our interests will be consolidated by this match, as well as our estates. Sophia. Still you mistake my meaning-I talk of the qualities of a man, you of his possessions -Iquire in a husband, good morals, good nature, and good sense-what has all this to do with contiguous estates, connected interests, and contested elections? Sir Ben. I don't rightly understand what you would have, child—but this I well know, that if money alone will not make a woman happy, 'twill always purchase that that will. I hope, Sophy, you've done thinking of that rambling, idle young fellow, Bob Belfield? Sophia. Perish all thought of him for ever! Nothing can be more contrary, more impossible in nature, than my union with young Belfield: age, ugliness, ill-nature-bring any thing to my arms, rather than him. Sir Ben. But why so angry with him, child? This violent detestation and abhorrence is as favourable a symptom as any reasonable lover could wish for. VOL. IL Enter PATERSON. Pat. Joy to you, sir Benjamin! all joy attend you both! the bridegroom by this time is arrived; we saw his equipage enter the avenue, as ours drove into the court. Sir Ben. Mr Paterson, sir, I know not if yet your friend is to be a bridegroom. I find my daughter here so cold and uncomplying, for my own part, I don't know how I shall look Mr Belfield in the face. | Pat. Fear nothing, sir Benjamin: make haste and receive your son-in-law. I have news to communicate to Miss Dove, which, I am confident, will dispose her to comply with your wishes. Sir Ben. Well, sir, I shall leave her to your tutorage. This obliging gentleman undertakes not only for my wife, but my daughter, too. [Exit SIR BEN, Sophia. I am surprized, Mr PatersonPat. Hold, madam, for one moment: I have made a discovery of the last importance to your welfare: you are in an error with regard to young Belfield-Violetta, the lady you believed him married to, is here in the house. I have brought her hither at your request, and from her I learn that the elder brother is her husband; he, who, this very morning, but for my discovery, had been your's also. Sophia. What's this you tell me, sir? Where is this lady? where is Violetta? where is young Belfield? Pat. Violetta, madam, I have put under safe convoy, and by this time your waiting-woman has lodged her privately in the closet of your bedchamber: there you will find her, and learn the whole process of this providential escape. I'll only speak a word to sir Benjamin, and come to you without any further delay. [Exit SOPHIA. Enter SIR BENJAMIN DOVE and BELFIELD sen. Sir Ben. Well, Mr Paterson, what says my daughter? Pat. Every thing that becomes an obedient daughter to say; so that, if this gentleman is not made completely happy within this hour, the fault will lie at his door, and not with Miss Sophia. Sir Ben. This is good news, Paterson; but I am impatient to have the ceremony concluded; the bells are ringing, the parson is waiting, and the equipages are at the door. Step up to Sophia, and tell her to hasten; and hark'e, my friend? as you go by lady Dove's door, give her a calldo you mind me, only a call at the door: don't you go in; she's busy at work upon a large parcel of ribbands, which I've given her to make into wedding favours. She'll be very angry if you go into her chamber. Go, go, get you gone. [Exit PATERSON, 5 Y Bel. sen. How comes it to pass, sir Benjamin, that Mr Paterson becomes so necessary an agent in the female affairs of your family? I confess to you my pride is wounded, when I find I am to thank him for your daughter's consent to marry me. The man that can prevail upon a woman to act against her liking, what may he not persuade her to do with it? Sir Ben. Your remark is just. Paterson has certainly some secret faculty of persuasion; and all that can be said is, that 'tis better to see your danger before marriage, than to be feeling it out, as I have done, afterwards. Enter CAPTAIN IRONSIDES, and BELFIELD jun. Sir Ben. What, old acquaintance, are you come to rejoice with me on this occasion ?-Bob Belfield, too, as I live! you are both heartily welcome-I could have spared their visit notwithstanding. [Aside. Bel. sen. My brother here! vexation! Bel. jun. Sir Benjamin, I come now to claim your promise of one hour's conversation with your daughter? Sir Ben. The devil you do! Bel. jun. To you, sir, obligations of this sort may be matter of ridicule; but while I religiously observe all promises I make to others, I shall expect others to be as observant of those they make to me. Bel. sen. Sir, I have a most profound veneration for your principles, and am happy to find your understanding so much cultivated by travel-but, in spite of your address, you will find it rather difficult to induce me to wave my right to Miss Dove, in favour of a professed adven turer. Bel. jun. Shameless, unfeeling man! an adventurer, do you call me? You, whose unbrotherly persecution drove me to this hazardous, this humiliating occupation? Iron. Sirrah! Bob! no reflections upon privateering-it has lined your pockets well, you young rogue; and you may tell your fine brother there, that we have landed treasure enough upon his estate to buy the fee-simple of it: ay, and for what I know, of sir Wiseacre's here into the bargain. Sir Ben. What's that you say, captain Ironsides? Let's have a word in a corner with you. Bel. sen. Look'e, sir, if you conceive yourself wronged by me, there is but one way-You know your remedy. Bel. jun. I know your meaning, brother; and, to demonstrate how much greater my courage is than yours, I must confess to you, I dare not accept your proposal. Sir Ben. No, no; I have given him enough of that, I believe. Iron. Bob Belfield, if I did not know thee for a lad of mettle, I shou'dn't tell what to make of all this: for my own part, I understand none of your scruples and refinements, not I-a man is a man-and if I take care to give an affront to no man, I think I have a right to take an affront from no man. Sir Ben. Come, gentlemen, suspend your dispute. Here comes my daughter; let her decide betwixt you. Bel. jun. Let me receive my sentence from her lips, and I will submit to it. Enter SOPHIA, PATERSON, and LADY DOVE. Sir Ben. Here's a young gentleman, daughter, that will take no denial; he comes to forbid the banns, just when you are both going into the church to be married. Sophia. Upon my word, this is something extraordinary! What are the gentleman's reasons for this behaviour? Sir Ben. He claims a sort of promise from me, that he should be indulged in an hour's conversation with you, before you give your hand to his brother. Sophia. An hour's conversation! What little that gentleman can have to say to me, I believe, may be said in a very few minutes. Bel. sen. I think, brother, this conversation don't promise a great deal. Sophia. In the first place, then, I own to this gentleman, and the company present, that there was a time, when I entertained the highest opinion of his merit. Nay, I will not scruple to confess, that I had conceived a regard for him of the tenderest sort. Iron. And pray, young lady, how came my nephew to forfeit your good opinion? Sophia. By a conduct, sir, that must for ever forfeit not my esteem only, but yours, and all mankind's: I am sorry to be his accuser, but I will appeal to you, Mr Belfield, who are his brother, whether it is reconcileable, either to honour or humanity, to prosecute an affair of marriage with one woman, when you are previously and indispensably engaged to another? Bel. sen. Hum! Sophia. Yet this, sir, is the treatment I have received: judge, therefore, if I can desire or consent to have any long conversation with a gentleman, who is under such engagements; nay, whom I can prove actually married to another woman in this very house, and ready to vouch the truth of what I assert. Judge for me, Mr Belfield, could you believe any man capable of such complicated, such inconceivable villainy? Bel. sen. Heavens! This touches me too closely. Sir Ben. Sir, I would fain know what excuse you can have for this behaviour? I can tell you, sir, I don't understand it. Lady Dove. Oh! fie! fie upon you, Mr Belfield! I wonder you are not ashamed to show your face in this family. |