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happy myself, I would fain put her into the , fess, that I had conceived a partiality for you, till hands of those that can. So, if you would oblige your own conduct turned my heart against you; me, sir William, let me join these two young and if my resentment has given you any pain, folks together, (Joining their hands.] and do you when I consider the occasion, I must own that I say Amen to it.

cannot repent it. Sir Til. With all my heart !-You can havet Lord Fal. Mention it no more, my love, I beno objection, Amclia? [Amelia bursts into tears. seech you! You may justly blame your lover, I

Lord Fal. How bitterly do those tears re-confess; but I will never give you cause to comproach me! It shall be the whole business of my plain of your husband. future life to atone for them.

Free. I don't believe you will. I give you Ame. Your actions this day, and your solici- joy, my lord! I give you all joy! As for you, tude for my father, have redeemed you in my madam, [TO AMELIA.) do but shew the world good opinion; and the consent of sir William, that you can bear prosperity, as well as you have seconded by so powerful an advocate as Mr sustained the shocks of adversity, and there are Freeport, cannot be contended with. Take my few women, who may not wish to be an Amelia. hand, my lord ! a virtuous passion may inhabit)

Ereunt omnes. the purest breast; and I am not ashamed to con

THE

BROTHERS.

BY

CUMBERLAND.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

BELFIELD sen.} the Brothers.

MEN.

WOMEN. SIR BENJAMIN Dove, henpecked by his wife. Lady Dove.

Sopura, Sir BENJAMIN's daughter. BELFIELD jun.) ine

VIOLETTA, wife to BELFIELD sen, CAPTAIN IRONSIDES, uncle to BELFIELD sen. and | FANNY GOODWIN. jun.

Lucy WATERS.
SkipF, master of the privateer.

KITTY, LADY Dove's maid.
PATERSON, servant to Sir BENJAMIN.
OLD GOODWIN, a fisherman.
PHILIP, his son.
FRANCIS, servant to BELFIELD jun.
JONATHAN, servant to Sir BENJAMIN,

SceneThe sea coast of Cornwall.

ACT 1.

SCENE I.-A rocky shore, with a fisherman's | Phi. To my thoughts, now, we live as happily

cabin in the cliff: a violent tempest, with thun- in this poor hut, as we did yonder in the great der and lightning : a ship discovered stranded house, when you was 'squire Belfield's principal on the coast. The characters enter, after ha tenant, and as topping a farmer as any in the ving looked out of their cabin, as if waiting whole county of Cornwall, for the abatement of the storm.

Good. Ah, child !

Phi. Nay, never droop; to be sure, father, Goodwin, Patlip, and Fanny.

the 'squire has dealt hardly with you, and a mighty Phi. It blows a rank storm; 'tis well, father, point, truly, he has gained ! the ruin of an hos we hauled the boat ashore before the weather nest man. If those are to be the uses of a great came on; she's safe bestowed, however, let what estate, Heaven continue me what I am ! will happen.

Fan. Ay, ay, brother, a good conscience in a Good. Ay, Philip, we had need be provident : coarse drugget, is better than an aching heart in except that poor skiff, my child, what have we a silken gown. left in this world that we can call our own? Good. Well, children, well, if you can bear misfortunes patiently, 'twere an ill office for me well, there's an end of her- The Charming Sally to repine; we have long tilled the earth for a privateer ! - Poor soul; a better sea boat never subsistence; now, Philip, we must plough the swam upon the salt sea. ocean; in those waves lies our harvest; there, 3d Sai. I knew we should have no luck after my brave lad, we have an equal inheritance with we took up that woman there from the packet the best.

that sunk along side us. Phi. True, father; the sea, that feeds us, pro- 1st Sai. What, madam Violetta, as they call vides us an habitation here in the hollow of the her? Why, 'tis like enough But hush, here cliff. I trust, the 'squire will exact no rent for this comes our captain's nephew; he's a brave lad, and dwelling— Alas! that ever two brothers should a seaman's friend, and, between you and me have been so opposite as our merciless landlord, [Boatswain's whistle. But hark, we are called and the poor young gentleman, they say, is now -Come along!

(Eseunt Sailors. dead. Good. Sirrah, I charge you, name not that un

SCENE IV, happy youth to me any more; I was endeavouring to forget him and his misfortunes, when the sight

BELFIELD jun. and FRÁNCIS. of that vessel in distress brought him afresh to Bel. jun. That ever fortune should cast us UPOR my remembrance; for, it seems, he perished by this coast!-Francis! sea : the more shame upon him, whose cruelty Fran. Sir! and injustice drove him thither. But come, the Bel. jun. Have the people landed those chests wind lulls apace; let us launch the boat, and we brought off with us in the boat? make a trip to yonder vessel : if we can assist in Fran. They have, sir; an old fisherman, whom lightening her, perhaps she may ride it out. we met, has shewn us here to a cavern in the

Phi. 'Tis to no purpose; the crew are coming cliff, where we have stowed them all in safety, ashore in their boat; I saw them enter the creek. Bel, jun, That's well. Where's my uncle

Good. Did you so ? Then, do you and your Fran. On board; no persuasions can prevail sister step into the cabin; make a good fire, and on him to quit the ship, which, he swears, will provide such fish and other stores as you have lift with the tide; his old crony, the master, is within : I will go down, and meet them : who- with him, and they ply the casks so briskly, that ever they may be, that have suffered this misfor it seems a moot point, which fills the fastest, tune on our coasts, let us remember, children, they, or the wreck. never to regard any man as an enemy, who stands Bel. jun. Strange insensibility! but you must in need of our protection.

[Exit Good. bring him off by force, then, if there is no other Phi. I am strongly tempted to go down to the way of saving him. I think, on my conscience, creek, too; if father should light on any mischief he is as indifferent to danger as the plank he - well, for once in my life, I'll disobey him; treads on. We are now thrown upon my unnatusister, you can look to matters within doors; } ral brother's estate; that house, Francis, which I'll go round by the point, and be there as soon you see to the left, is his; and what may be the as he,

consequence if he and my uncle should meet, I Fan. Do so, Philip; 'twill be best.

know not; for such has been captaia Ironsides' (Ereunt sederally. resentment on my account, that he has declared

war against the very name of Belfield; and, in SCENE II.—Continues.

one of his whimsical passions, you know, insisted

on my laying it aside for ever; so that hitherto I Goodwin re-enters, followed by FRANCIS, and have been known on board by no other name

several sailors carrying goods and chests from than that of Lewson. the wreck.

Fran. 'Tis true, sir; and, I think, 'twill be adGood. This way, my friends, this way ! there's viseable to continue the disguise as long as you stowage enough within for all your goods. can. As for the old captain, from the life he al

Fran. Come, bear a hand, my brave lads, ways leads on shore, and his impatience to get there's no time to lose; follow that honest man, on board again, I think, 'tis very possible an inand set down your chests where he directs you. terview between him and your brother may be

Sai. Troth, I care not how soon I'm quit of prevented. inine ; ’tis plaguy heavy.

[Ereunt. . Bel. jun. I think so, too. Go then, Francis,

and conduct the old gentleman hither; I see VioSCENE III.—Continues. letta coming.

Erit Fran. Sure there is something in that woman's story Enter other Sailors.

uncommonly mysterious Of English parents 1st Sai. Here's a pretty spot of work! plague born in Lisbon--her family and fortune buried on't, what a night has this been ! I thought this in the earthquake-80 much she freely tells; but damned lee-shore would catch us at last. | inore, I am convinced, remains untold, and of a

2d Sai. Why, 'twas impossible to claw her off; melancholy sort : she has once or twice, as I

thought, seemed disposed to unbosom herself to Is this the way you reconcile me to your nation ? me; but it is so painful to be told of sorrows one Are these the friends of human kind? Why don't has not power to relieve, that I have hitherto we fly from this ungenerous, this ungrateful counavoided the discourse.

try?

Bel. jun. Hold, madam! one villain, however Enter VIOLETTA.

base, can no more involve a whole nation in his Bel. jun. Well, madam, melancholy still still crimes, than one example, however dignified, that face of sorrow and despair? twice ship- can inspire it with his virtues : thank Heaven, the wrecked, and twice rescued from the jaws of worthless owner of that mansion is yet without a death, do you regret your preservation and rival. have I incurred your displeasure, by prolonging / Vio. You have twice directed my attention to your existence?"

that house; 'tis a lovely spot; what pity that so Vio. Not so, Mr Lewson; such ingratitude be delicious a retirement should be made the resifar froin me. Can I forget, when the vessel, in dence of so undeserving a being ! which I had sailed from Portugal, foundered by Bel. jun. It is, indeed, a charming place, and your side, with what noble, what benevolent ar-was once the seat of hospitality and honour; but, dour, you flew to my assistance? Regardful only its present. possessor, Andrew Belfield- Maof my safety, your own seemed no part of your | dain, for Heaven's sake, what ails you ? you seem care.

suddenly disordered— Have I said Bel jun. Oh! no more of this; the preserva- Vio. No, 'tis nothing; don't regard me, Mr tion of a fellow-creature is as natural as self-de-Lewson. I am weak, and subject to these surfence. You now, for the first time in your life, I prizes; I shall be glad, however, to retire. breathe the air of England--a rough reception it Bel. jun. A little repose, I hope, will relieve has given you; but be not, therefore, discoura- you ; within this hut, some accommodation may ged; our hearts, Violetta, are more accessible be found : lean on my arm. than our shores; nor can you find inhospitality in

[Leads her to the door of the cabin. Britain, save in our climate only. Vio. These characteristics of the English may

Enter Goodwin. be just. I take my estimate from a less favoura- Good. Heaven defend me! do my eyes de ble example.

ceive me? 'tis wondrous like his shape, his air, Bel. jun. Villainy, madam, is the growth of his lookevery soul; por can I, while yonder habitation is Bel. jun. What is your astonishment, friend? in my view, forget, that England has given birth Do you know me? If it was not for that habit, I to monsters that disgrace humanity; but this I should say your name is Goodwin. will say for my countrymen, that, where you can Good. 'Tis be! he is alive! my dear young point out one rascal with a heart to wrong you, I master, Mr Belfield ! Yes, sir, my name is Goodwill produce fifty honest fellows ready and reso-win: however changed my appearance, my heart lute to redress you.

is still the same, and overflows with joy at this Vio. Ah !-But on what part of the English unexpected meeting. coast is it that we are landed?

Bèl. jun. Give me thy hand, my old, my hoBel. jun. On the coast of Cornwall.

nest friend; and is this sorry hole thy habitaVio. Of Cornwall is it? You seem to know the tion? owner of that house : are you well acquainted Good. It is. with the country hereabouts?

Bel. jun. The world, I see, has frowned on Bel. jun. Intimately; it has been the cradle thee since we parted. of my infancy, and, with little interruption, my Good. Yes, sir : but what are my misfortunes ! residence ever since.

you must have undergone innumerable hardships; Vio. You are amongst your friends, then, no and now, at last, shipwrecked on your own doubt; how fortunate is it, that you will have coast! Well, but your vessel is not totally lost, their consolation and assistance in your distress. and we will work night and day in saving your Bel. jun. Madam

effects. Vie. Every moment will bring them down to Bel. jun. Oh, as for that, the sea gave all, let the very shores; this brave, humane, this hospita- it take back a part; I have enough on shore not ble people, will flock, in crowds, to your relief; to envy my brother his fortune. But there is your friends, Mr Lewson

one blessing, master Goodwin, I own I should Bel. jun. My friends, Violetta ! must I con- grudge him the possession of—There was a young fess it to you, I have no friends— those rocks, ladythat have thus scattered my treasures, those waves, Good. What, sir, have not you forgot Miss that have devoured them, to me are not so fatal, Sophia ? as hath been that man, whom Nature meant to Bel. jun. Forgot her! my heart trembles while be my nearest friend.

| I ask you, if she is indeed, as you call her, Miss Vio. What, and are you a fellow-sufferer, then? Sophia.

Good. She is yet unmarried, though every day part, I'll sail with captain Ironsides as far as we expect

there's water to carry me. Bel. jun. 'Tis enough; Fortune, I acquit thee! Omnes. So we will all. Happy be the winds that threw me on this coast, Iron. Say ye so, my hearts? if the wind sits and blest the rocks that received me! Let my that way, hoist sail, say I; old George will make vessel go to pieces; she has done her part in one amongst you, if that be all; I hate an idle bearing me hither, while I can cast myself at the life- So, so; away to your work; to-morrow feet of iny Sophia, recount to her my unabating we'll make a day on't.

[Ereunt Sailors. passion, and have one fair struggle for her heart. Iron. Skiff!

(Exeunt. Skiff. Here, your honour!

Iron. I told you, Skiff, how 'twould be; if you SCENE V.

had luffed up in time, as I would have had vou,

and not made so free with the land, this mishap Enter VIOLETTA.

had never come to pass. Vio. Once more I am alone. How my heart | Skiff. Lord love you, captain Ironsides ! 'twas sunk, when Lewson pronounced the name of Bel- a barrel of beef to a biscuit, the wind had not field ! it must be he, it must be my false, cruel, shifted so direct contrary as it did; who could yet (spite of all my wrongs) beloved husband : | have thought it? yes, there he lives, each circumstance confirms Iron. Why, I could have thought it; every it; Cornwall, the county; here the sea-coast, body could have thought it: do you consider and these white craggy cliffs; there the disposi- whereabouts you are, mun? Upon the coast of tion of his seat; the grove, lake, lawn; every | England, as I take it. Every thing here goes feature of the landscape tallies with the descrip contrary both by sea and land- Every thing tions he has given me of it. What shall I do, whips, and chops, and changes about, like mad, and to whom shall I complain? when Lewson in this country; and the people, I think, are as spoke of him, it was with a bitterness that shock-full of vagaries as the climate. ed me; I will not disclose myself to bim; by Skiff. Well, I could have sworewhat fell from him, I suspect he is related to Mr Iron. Ay, so you could, Skiff; and so you did, Belfield-But, hush! I talk to these rocks, and pretty roundly, too; but for the good you did by forget that they have ears.

it, you might as well have puffed a whiff of to

bacco in the wind's face. Enter Fanny.

Skiff. Well, captain; though we have lost our

ship, we haven't lost our all: thank the fates, Fan. Are you better, madam? Is the air of we've saved treasure enough to make all our forany service to you?

| tunes notwithstanding. Vio. I am much relieved by it: the beauty of Iron. Fortunes, quotha? What have two such that place attracted my attention, and, if you old weather-beaten fellows, as thee and I are, to please, we will walk further up the hill to take a do with fortune; or, indeed, what has fortune to nearer view of it.

[Ereunt. do with us? Flip and tobacco is the only luxury

we have any relish for: had we fine houses, could SCENE VI.

we live in them? a greasy hammock has been

our birth for these fifty years; fine horses, could Part of the crew enter, with IRONSIDES and

we ride them? and, as for the fair sex, there, Skiff in the midst of thein.

that my nephew makes such a pother about, I Omnes. Huzza! huzza ! huzza!

don't know what thou may'st think of the mat1st Sai. Long life to your honour! welcome ter, Skiff; but, for my own part, I should not ashore, poble captain !

care if there were no such animals in the crea2d Sai. Avast there, Jack; stand clear, and tion, let his old honour pass. Bless his heart, he looks cheerly howsomever; let the world wag as it

Enter BelField, jun. will, he'll never flinch.

Bel. jun. Uncle, what chear, man? 3d Sai. Not he! he's true English oak to the Iron. Oh, Bob! is it thee? whither bound heart of him; and a fine old seaman-like figure now, my dear boy?

| Bel. jun. Why, how can you ask such a quesIron. Ah, messmates, we are all aground; I tion? We have landed our treasure; saved all our have been taking a parting cup with the Charm- friends, and set foot upon English ground, and ing Sally- She's gone; but the stoutest bark what business, think you, can a young fellow, like must have an eud; master, here, and I, did all me, have, but one? we could to lighten her; we took leave of her in Iron. Pshaw, you are a fool, Bob; these an officer-like manner.

wenches will be the undoing of you-a plague of 1st Sai. Hany sorrow! we know the worst them altogether say I: what are they good for, on't; 'tis only taking a fresh cruize; and for my but to spoil company, and keep brave fellows

he is.

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