lady and gentlemen are intimately concerned: 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 surprisingly.

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. Av-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

much of, and married to Mr Belfield! base and 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 iuvolved us!

Put. 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 aud 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! 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.

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 companion, and not your ladyship's.

Lady Dove. Navy, 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 pleasure? 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 meGo-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! [Erit 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 -I require 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. II.

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 contident, 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 ber 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

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. sen Ridiculous!

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 expert 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.

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?

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

Sir Ben. Who desired you to put in your oar? Iron. Why, sirrah, would not one wife content you? Tis enough in all reason for one man; is it not, sir Benjamin?

Bel. jun. Sir, when it is proved I am married,

accuse me.

Iron. Look'e, Bob, I don't accuse you for marrying; 'twas an indiscretion, and I can forgive it but to deny it, is a meanness, and I abbor it.

Sophia. Mr Belfield, do you say nothing upon this occasion!

Bel. sen. Paterson, I am struck to the heartI cannot support my guilt-I am married to Violetta-save me the confusion of relating it: this dishonourable engagement for ever I renounce; nor will I rest till I have made atonement to an injured wife. Madam, I beg leave to withdraw for a few minutes.

Bel. jun. Hold, sir! this contrivance is of your forging-you have touched me too nearand now, if you dare draw your sword, follow me!

Sophia. Hold, gentlemen! you forget the lady is now in the house-she is a witness that will effectually put an end to your dispute--I will conduct her hither. [Exit SOPHIA.

Bel. jun. I agree to it.

Iron. Hark'e, nephew? I shrewdly suspect you have been laying a train to blow yourself up: if once Bob comes fairly alongside of you, you'll find your quarters too hot to hold you I never yet found my boy out in a lie, and shan't tamely see a lie imposed upon him; for while he is honest, and I have breath, he shall never want a friend to stand by him, or a father to protect him.

Bel. sen. Mr Paterson, explain my story-I will depart this instant in search of Violetta.

Enter SOPHIA and VIOLETTA. Sophia. Stay! I conjure you-stay, turn, and look back upon this lady, before you go.

[Presenting VIOLETTA.

Bel. sen. My wife! Sir Ben. Hey-day! here's a turn. Iron. I thought how 'twould be. Vio. Yes, sir, your faithful, your forsaken wife. Bel. sen. How shall I look upon you? What shall I say? Where shall I hide my confusion? Oh! take me to your arms, and, in that soft shelter, let me find forgiveness and protection.

Vio. Be this your only punishment! and this! Bel. jun. Was it, then, a sister I preserved from death?

Bel. sen. What's this I hear! Oh! brother, can you pardon, too?

Bel. jun. Be indeed a brother, and let this providential event be the renovation of our friendship.

Bel. sen. What shall I say to you, madam?— [To SOPHIA.] Paterson, you know my heart: bear witness to its remorse. By Heaven, my secret resolution was, instantly to have departed in search of this my injured wife-but I'm not worthy even of your resentment: here is one that merits, and returns your love.

[Turning to his brother. Iron. Come, god-daughter, we can never say the fleet's fairly come to an anchor, while the admiral's ship is out at sea. [Presenting BELFIELD junior.] My nephew here is as honest a lad as lives, and loves you at the soul of him give him your hand, and I'll broach the last chest of dollars, to make him a fortune deserving you.What say you, my old friend?

Sir Ben. Here's my hand! I've spoke the word—she's his own. Lady Dove, I won't hear a syllable to the contrary.

Iron. Then, the galleon is thy own, boyWhat should an old fellow like me do with money? Give me a warm night-cap, a tiff of punch, and an elbow-chair in your chimney-corner, and I'll lay up for the rest of my days.

Bel. jun. How shall I give utterance to my gratitude, or my love!

Enter GOODWIN, FANNY, FRANCIS, PHILIP, and

LUCY.

Sir Ben. So, so! more work for the parson! Iron. What, Francis! hast thou chosen a mate, and art bound upon a matrimonial cruize, as well as thy master?

Fran. Ay, sir; so he is happy as well as myself, and has no objection to my choice.

Bel. sen. What! Are you all assembled to overwhelm me with confusion? Like some poor culprit, surrounded by a crowd of witnesses, I stand convicted and appalled. But all your wrongs shall be redressed-yours, GoodwinPhilip's-Lucy's: my whole life shall be employed in acts of justice and atonement. Virtue, and this virtuous woman, were my first ruling passions.

Now they resume their social, soft controul, And love and happiness possess my soul.

[Exeunt omnes:

SCENE I-A merchant's counting-house. In an inner room, set off by glass-doors, are discovered several clerks, employed at their desks. A writing-table in the front room. STOCKWELL is discovered, reading a letter; STUKELY comes gently out of the back room, and observes him some time before he speaks.

Stuke. He seems disordered: something in that letter, and I'm afraid of an unpleasant sort. He has many ventures of great account at sea; a ship richly freighted for Barcelona; another for Lisbon; and others expected from Cadiz, of still greater value. Besides these, I know he has many deep concerns in foreign bottoms, and under

writings to a vast amount. I'll accost him.Sir! Mr Stockwell!

Stock. Stukely!Well, have you shipped the cloths?

Stuke. I have, sir; here's the bill of lading, and copy of the invoice: the assortments are all compared: Mr Traffick will give you the policy upon 'Change.

Stock. 'Tis very well; lay these papers by; and no more of business for a while. Shut the door, Stukely. I have had long proof of your friendship and fidelity to me; a matter of most infinite concern lies on my mind, and 'twill be a sensible relief to unbosom myself to you. I have just now been informed of the arrival of the young West