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passion for me, which was once so violent, is now

Enter PATERSON. softened and subsided into mere friendship.

Sir Ben. True, my dear-and, therefore, I am Pat. Joy to you, sir Benjamin ! all joy attend afraid lest my love having, by easy degrees, you both! the bridegroom by this time is arrivslackened into friendship, his friendship should, ed; we saw his equipage enter the avenue, as by as natural a transition, quicken into love-ours drove into the court. say no more, therefore, upon this point, but leave Sir Ben. Mr Paterson, sir, I know not if yet me to Mr Paterson, and Mr Paterson to me your friend is to be a bridegroom. I find my Go--send Sophia to me-oh, here she comes: daughter here so cold and uncomplying, for my your ladyship need not be present at our con- own part, I don't know how I shall look Mr Bela ference; I think my own daughter surely belongs field in the face. to my province, and not yours. Good morning Pat. Fear nothing, sir Benjamin : make haste to you!

[E.rit Lady Dove. and receive your son-in-law. I have news to

communicate to Miss Dove, which, I am confiEnter Sopita. dent, will dispose her to comply with your

wishes.

Sir Ben. Well, sir, I shall leave her to your Well, daughter, are you prepared to com- tutorage.

This obliging gentleman undertakes ply with my desires, and give your hand to not only for my wife, but my daughter, too. Andrew Belfield this morning ?

(Exit Sir Besi Sophia. Sir!

Sophia. I am surprized, Mr PatersonSir Ben. My heart is fixed upon this event- Pat, Hold, madam, for one moment: I have I have watched late and early to bring it to bear; made a discovery of the last importance to your and you'll find, my child, when you come to per- welfare : you are in an error with regard to use your marriage settlement, how tenderly I young Belfield-Violetta, the lady you believed have consulted your happiness in this match. him married to, is here in the house. I have

Sophia. Alas! I should never think of search- brought her hither at your request, and from her ing for happiness amongst deeds and convey- I learn that the elder brother is her husband; ances—'tis the man, and not the money, that is he, who, this very morning, but for my discovery, likely to determine my lot.

had been your's also. Sir Ben. Well, and is not Mr Belfield a man? Sophia. What's this you tell me, sir? Where a fine man, as I take it, he is, and a fine estate is this lady? where is Violetta? where is young I'm sure he has got—then it lies so handy and Belfield ? contiguous to my own-only a hedge betwixt us Pat. Violetta, madam, I have put under safe

- think of that, Sophy! only a hedge that parts convoy, and by this time your waiting-woman his manor from mine-then consider, likewise, has lodged her privately in the closet of your how this alliance will accommodate matters in bedchamber : there you will find her, and learn the borough of Knavestown, where I and my fa- the whole process of this providential escape. mily have stood three contested elections with I'll only speak a word to`sir Benjamin, and his, and lost two of them—that sport will now come to you without any further delay. be at an end, and our interests will be consoli

[Erit Sophia. dated by this match, as well as our estates. Sophia. Still you mistake my meaning-I talk

Enter SiR BENJAMIN Dove and BELFIELD of the qualities of a man, you of his possessions - I require in a husband, good morals, good na- Sir Ben. Well, Mr Paterson, what says my ture, and good sense—what has all this to do daughter ? with contiguous estates, connected interests, and Pat. Every thing that becomes an obedient contested elections ?

daughter to say; so that, if this gentleman is not Sir Ben. I don't rightly understand what you made completely happy within this hour, the would have, child--but this I well know, that if fault will lie at his door, and not with Miss money alone will not make a woman happy, Sophia. 'twill always purchase that that will. I hope, Sir Ben. This is good news, Paterson; but I Sophy, you've done thinking of that rambling, am impatient to have the ceremony concluded ; idle young fellow, Bob Belfield?

the bells are ringing, the parson is waiting, and Sophia. Perish all thought of him for ever! | the equipages are at the door. Step up to Sophia, Nothing can be more contrary, more impossible and tell her to hasten; and hark'e, my friend? in nature, than my union with young Belfield : as you go by lady Dove's door, give ber a callage, ugliness, ill-nature-bring any thing to my do you mind me, only a call at the door: don't arms, rather than him.

you go in; she's busy at work upon a large parSir Ben. But why so angry with him, child ? cel of ribbands, which I've given her to make inThis violent detestation and abhorrence is as to wedding favours. She'll be very angry if you favourable a symptom as any reasonable lover go into her chamber. Go, go, get you gone. could wish for:

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betwist you.

Bel. sen. How comes it to pass, sir Benjamin, all this : for my own part, I understand none of that Mr Paterson becomes so necessary an your scruples and refinements, not I-a man is a agent in the female affairs of your family! Iman—and if I take care to give an affront to no confess to you my pride is wounded, when I find man, I think I have a right to take an affront I am to thank him for your daughter's consent from no man, to marry me. The man that can prevail upon a

Sir Ben. Come, gentlemen, suspend your diswoman to act against her liking, what may he not pute. Here comes my daughter; let her decide persuade her to do with it?

Sir Ben. Your remark is just. Paterson has Bel. jun. Let me receive my sentence from certainly some secret faculty of persuasion; and her lips, and I will submit to it. all that can be said is, that 'tis better to see your danger before marriage, than to be feeling it out,

Enter Sophia, PATERSON, and Lady Dove. as I have done, afterwards.

Sir Ben. Here's a young geutleman, daughter,

that will take no denial; be comes to forbid the Enter Captain Ironsides, and BelField jun. benns, just when you are both going into the

Sir Ben. What, old acquaintance, are you church to be married. come to rejoice with me on this occasion ?- Bob Sophia. Upon my word, this is something esBelfield, too, as I live ! you are both heartily wel-traordinary! What are the gentleman's reasons come- I could have spared their visit notwith- for this behaviour? standing.

[Aside. Sir Ben. He claims a sort of promise from me, Bel. sen. My brother here! vexation! that he should be indulged in an hour's conver

Bel. jun. Sir Benjamin, I come now to claim sation with you, before you give your hand to his your promise of one hour's conversation with brother. your daughter?

Sophia. An hour's conversation! What little Sir Ben. The devil

you
do!

that gentleman can have to say to me, I believe, Bel, sen Ridiculous !

may be said in a very few minutes, Bel. jun. To you, sir, obligations of this sort Bel. sen. I think, brother, this conversation may be matter of ridicule; but while I religiously don't promise a great deal. observe all promises I make to others, I shall Sophia. In the first place, then, I own to this expect others to be as observant of those they gentleman, and the company present, that there make to me.

was a time, when I entertained the highest op: Bel. sen. Sir, I have a most profound venera- nion of his merit. Nay, I will not scruple to cotion for your principles, and am happy to find | fess, that I had conceived a regard for him of the your understanding so much cultivated by tra-tenderest sort. vel-but, in spite of your address, you will find Iron. And pray, young lady, how came my it rather difficult to induce me to wave my richt nephew to forfeit your good opinion? to Miss Dove, in favour of a professed adien- Sophia. By a conduct, sir, that must for ever

forfeit not my esteem only, but yours, and all manBel. jun. Shameless, unfeeling man! an ad- kind's: I am sorry to be his accuser, but I will venturer, do you call me? You, whose unbro- appeal to you, Mr Belfield, who are his brother, therly persecution drove me to this hazardous, whether it is reconcileable, either to honour or this humiliating occupation?

humanity, to prosecute an affair of marriage with Iron. Sirrah! Bob! no reflections upon pri- one woman, when you are previously and indisvateeriny--it has lined your pockets well, you pensably engaged to another? young rogue; and you may tell vour fine brother Bel. sen. Hum! there, that we have landed treasure enough upon Suphia. Yet this, sir, is the treatment I have his estate to buy the tee-simple of it: ay, and received: judge, therefore, if I can desire or for what I know, of sir Wiseacre's here into the consent to have any long conversation with a genbargain.

tleman, who is under such engagements; nay, Sir Ben. What's that you say, captain Iron- whom I can prove actually married to another sides? Let's have a word in a corner with you. woman in this very house, and ready to vouch

Bel. sen. Look'e, sir, if you conceive yourself the truth of what I assert. Judge for me, Bir wronged by me, there is but one way-You Belfield, could you believe any man capable of know your remedy.

such complicated, such inconceivable villainy? Bel. jun. I know your meaning, brother; and,

Heavens! This touches me to deinonstrate how much greater my courage is closely. than yours, I must confess to you, I dare not Sir Ben, Sir, I would fain know what excuse accept your proposal.

you can have for this behaviour? I can tell you, Sir Ben. No, no; I have given him enough of sir, I don't understand it. that, I believe.

Lady Dove. Oh! fie! fie upon you, Mr BelIron. Bub Belfield, if I did not know thee for field! I wonder you are not ashamed to show a lad of mettle, I shou’dn't tell what to make of your face in this family.

turer.

Bel. sen.

too

accuse me.

me !

Sir Ben. Who desired you to put in your oar? Bel, sen. What's this I hear! Oh! brother,

Iron. Why, sirrah, would not one wife con- can you pardon, too? tent you? 'Tis enough in all reason for one man; Bel. jun. Be indeed a brother, and let this is it not, sir Benjamin?

providential event be the renovation of our Bel. jun. Sir, when it is proved I am married, friendship.

Bel. sen. What shall I say to you, madam ?Iron. Look'e, Bob, I don't accuse you for [To Soputa.] Paterson, you know my heart : marrying; 'twas an indiscretion, and I can for- bcar witness to its remorse. By Heaven, my segive it, but to deny it, is a meanness, and I cret resolution was, instantly to have departed abhor it.

in search of this my injured wife—but I'm not Sophia. Mr Belfield, do you say nothing upon worthy even of your resentment: here is one this occasion !

that merits, and returns your love. Bel. sen. Paterson, I am struck to the heart

[Turning to his brother. I cannot support my guilt-I am married to Vio- Iron. Come, god-daughter, we can never say letta-save me the confusion of relating it: this the fleet's fairly come to an anchor, 'while the addishonourable engagement for ever I renounce; miral's ship is out at sea. [Presenting BelFIELD nor will I rest till I have made atonement to an junior.] My nephew here is as honest a lad as injured wife. Madam, I beg leave to withdraw lives, and loves you at the soul of him : give him for a few minutes.

your hand, and I'll broach the last chest of dolBel. jun. Hold, sir! this contrivance is of lars, to make him a fortune deserving you.your forging-you have touched me too near- What say you, my old friend? and now, if you dare draw your sword, follow Sir Ben. Here's my hand! I've spoke the

word-she's his own. Lady Dove, I won't hear Sophia. Hold, gentlemen! you forget the lady a syllable to the contrary. is now in the house-she is a witness that will Iron. Then, the galleon is thy own, boyeffectually put an end to your dispute--I will What should an old fellow like 'me do with moconduct her hither.

[Erit Sophia. ney? Give me a warm night-cap, a tiff of punch, Bel. jun. I agree to it.

and an elbow-chair in your chimney-corner, and Iron. Hark'e, nephew? I shrewdly suspect you I'll lay up for the rest of my days. have been laying a train to blow yourself up: Bel. jun. How shall I give utterance to my if once Bob comes fairly alongside of you, you'll gratitude, or my love! find your quarters too hot to hold you : I never yet found my boy out in a lie, and shan't tamely Enter Goodwin, Fanny, Francis, Puilip, and

Lucy. see a lie imposed upon him; for while he is honest, and I have breath, he shall never want a Sir Ben. So, so ! more work for the parson ! friend to stand by him, or a father to protect

Iron. What, Francis ! hast thou chosen a him.

mate, and art bound upon a matrimonial cruize, Bel. sen. Mr Paterson, explain my story—I as well as thy master? will depart this instant in search of Violetta. Fran. Ay, sir; so he is happy as well as my

self, and has no objection to my choice. Enter Sophia and VIOLETTA.

Bel. sen. What! Are you all assembled to Sophia. Stay! I conjure you—stay, turn, and overwhelm me with confusion ? Like some poor look back upon this lady, before you go. culprit, surrounded by a crowd of witnesses, I

[Presenting VIOLETTA. stand convicted and appalled. But all your Bel. sen. My wife!

wrongs shall be redressed—yours, GoodwinSir Ben. Hey-day! here's a turn.

Philip's—Lucy's: my whole life shall be emIron. I thought how 'twould be.

ployed in acts of justice and atonement. Virtue, Vio. Yes, sir, your faithful, your forsaken wife. and this virtuous woman, were my first ruling

Bel. sen. How shall I look upon you? What passions. shall I say? Where shall I hide my

confusion?

Now they resume their social, soft controul, Oh! take me to your arms, and, in that soft shelter, let me find forgiveness and protection.

And love and happiness possess my soul. Vio. Be this your only punishment! and this !

(Exeunt omnes. Bel.jun. Was it, then, a sister I preserved from death?

THE

WEST INDIAN.

BY

CUMBERLAND.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

TY.

MEN.

WOMEN. STOCKWELL, a merchant, father to Belcour. LADY RUSport, attached to MAJOR O'FLANERBELCOUR, the West Indian, attached to LOUISA. CAPTAIN DUDLEY, an old officer on half-pay. CHARLOTTE, her daughter. CHARLES DUDLEY, his son, attached to Char- | Louisa, daughter to Dudley. LOTTE RUSPORT.

MRS FULMER, wife to FULMER.
MAJOR O'FLAHERTY, an Irishman.

Lucy, maid to CHARLOTTE RUSPORT.
STUKELY, principal clerk to STOCKWELL. Housekeeper belonging to STOCKWELL,
FULMER.
VARLAND, a lawyer.

Clerks belonging to STOCKWELL, Servants, SciSailor.

lors. Negroes, fc. Servant to STOCKWELL. Servant to LADY Rysport,

Scene, London,

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A merchant's counting-house. writings to a vast amount. I'll accost him.

Sir! Mr Stockwell! In an inner room, set off by glass-doors, are dis- Stock. Stukely Well, have you shipped

covered several clerks, employed at their desks. the cloths ? A writing-table in the front room. STOCKWELL

Stuke. I have, sir; here's the bill of lading, is discovered, reading a letter ; STUKELY comes and copy of the invoice : the assortments are all gently out of the back room, and observes him compared : Mr Traffick will give you the policy some time before he speaks.

upon 'Change. Stuke. He seems disordered: something in that Slock. 'Tis very well; lay these papers by; and letter, and I'm afraid of an unpleasant sort. He no more of business for a while. Shut the door, has many ventures of great account at sea; a ship Stukely. I have had long proof of your friendrichly freighted for Barcelona; another for Lis ship and fidelity to me; a matter of most intinite bon; and others expected from Cadiz, of still concern lies on my mind, and 'twill be a sensible greater value. Besides these, I know he has ma- relief to unbosom myselt' to you. I have just now ny deep concerns in foreign bottoins, and under- been informed of the arrival of the young West Indian, I have so long been expecting; you know would deeply affect his spirit, which was haughty, whoin I mean?

vehement, and unforgiving: and lastly, in regard Stuke. Yes, sir; Mr Belcour, the young gen- to the interest of her infant, whom he had warınticman who inlcrited old Belcour's great estates ly adopted, and for whom, in case of a discovery, in Jamaica.

every thing was to be dreaded from his resentSlock. Husl, not so loud; come a little nearer ment. And, indeed, though the alteration in my this way. This Belcour is now in London; part condition might have justified ine in discovering of his bossage is already arrived; and I expect myself

, yet ï always thought my son safer in him every minute. Is it to be wondered at, if trusting to the caprice, than to the justice, of his luis coming throws me into sonic agitation, when grandfather. My judgment has not suffered by I tell you, Stukcly, he is iny son!

the event; old Belcour is dead, and has beStuke. Your son !

queathed his whole estate to him we are speakStock. Ycs, sir, my only son. Early in life I ing of. accompanied bis grandfather to Jamaica, as his Stuke. Now, then, you are no longer bound to clerk; be had an only daughter, somewhat older secrecy. than myself, the mother of this gentleman: it Stock. Truc: but before I publicly reveal mywas my chance (call it good or ill) to engage her self, I could wish to make some experiment of afiections; and, as the interiority of my condition my son's disposition. This can only be done by made it hopeless to expect her father's consent, lciting liis spirit take its course without restraint; hier fondness provided an expedient, and we were by these means, I think I shall discover mich privately married: the issue of that concealed more of his real character, under the title of his engagement is, as I have told you, this Belcour. merchant, than I should under that of his father,

Stuke. That event, surely, discovered your A Sailor enters, ushering in several black serconnexion?

Stock. You shall bear. Not many days after tunts, carrying portmanteaus, trunks, &c. our marriage, old Belcour set out for England; Sai. Save your honour-is your name Stockand, during his abode here, my wife was, with well, pray? great secrecy, delivered of this son. Fruitful in Stock. It is. expedients to disguise her situation, without part- Sai. Part of my master Belcour's baggage, an't ing from her infant, she contrived to have it laid please you : there's another cargo not far a-stern and received at her door as a foundling. After of us, and the cock-swain has got charge of the some time, her father returned, having left me dumb creatures. here; in one of those favourable moments, that Stock. Prithee, friend, what dumb creatures decide the fortunes of prosperous men, this child do you speak of? has Nir Belcour brought over a was introduced : from that instant, he treated collection of wild beasts? him as his own, gave him his name, and brought Sai. No, lord love him! no, not he: let ma him up in his family.

scc; there's two green inoukies, a pair of grey Stuke. And did you never reveal this secret, parrots, a Jamaica sow and pigs, and a Mangrove either to old Belcour, or your son.

dog; that's all. Stock. Never.

Stock. Is that all? Stuke. Therein you surprise me; a merchant Sai. Yes, your honour; yes, that's all; bless of your eminence, and a member of the British his heart, a'might have brought over the whole parliament, might surely aspire, without offence, island if he would; a didn't leave a dry eye in it. to the daughter of a planter. In this case, too, Stock. Indeed! Stukely, shew them where to natural affection would prompt to a discovery: bestow their baggage. Follow that gentleman.

Stock. Your remark is obvious; nor could I Sui. Come, bear a hand, my lads; bear a hand. have persisted in this painful silence, but in obe

[Exit with STUKELY and servants. dience to the dying injunctions of a beloved wife. Stock. If the principal tallies with his purveyThe letter, you found me reading, conveyed those ors, he must be a singular spectacle in this place: injunctions to me; it was dictated in her last ill. he has a friend, however, in this sea-faring fels ness, and almost in the article of death (you'll low : 'tis no bad prognostic of a man's heart, spare me the recital of it); she there conjures when his shipmates give him a good word. (Exit, me, in terms as solemn as they are affecting, never to reveal the secret of our marriage, or with- SCENE II.-Changes to a drawing-room. draw my son, while her father survived.

Stuke. But on what motives did your unhappy A servunt discovered setting the chairs by, 8c. lady found these injunctions ?

A woman servant enters to him. Stock. Principally, I believe, from apprehen- House. Why, what a fuss does our good mas, sion on my account, lest old Belcour, on whom, ter put himself in about this West Indian! See at her decease, I wholly depended, should with what a bill of fare I've been forced to draw out: draw his protection : in part, from consideration seven and nīne, I'll assure you, and only a family of his repose, as well knowing the discovery dinner, as he calls it: wby, if my lord mayor was

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