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. jua. 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 anchor, while t miral's ship is out at sea. Presenting BELF Junior.] My nephew here is as honest. lives, and loves you at the soul of him: your hand, and I'll broach the last chest of lars to make him a fortune deserving you W1 say you, my old friend?

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

Iron. Then the galleon is thy own, byWhat should an old fellow like me do 2: ney? Give me a warm night-cap, a tiffofp-and an elbow chair in your chimney come, I'll lay up for the rest of my days.

Bel. jun. How shall I give utterance gratitude or my love?

Enter GOODWIN, FANNY, FRANCIS, PER and LUCY.

Sir Ben. So, so! more work for the pass Iron. What! Francis, hast thou chosen an and art bound upon a matrimonial cruise a .. as thy master?

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

Bel. sen. What are you all assemble overwhelm me with confusion? Like some?? culprit, surrounded by a crowd of witnesses stand convicted and appall’d. But a wrongs shall be redressed; your's, Goodw lip's; Lucy's; my whole life shall be exp in acts of justice and atonement. Virtue, this virtuous woman, were my first ruling sions.

Now they resume their social soft contro
And love and happiness possess my soul

[Exeunt ov

WHO but has seen the celebrated strife,
Where Reynolds calls the canvass into life;
And, 'wixt the tragic and the comic muse,
Courted of both, and dubious where to choose,
Th' immortal actor stands ?—Here we espy
An awful figure, pointing to the sky:
A grave, sublime, commanding form she bears,
And in her zone an unsheathed dagger wears.

On t'other side, with sweet attractive miel,
The playful muse of comedy is seen;
She, with a thousand soft bewitching smiles,
Mistress of love, his yielding heart beguiles;
(For where's the heart so hardened, to withstan
The fond compulsion of so fair a hand?)
Oh! would she here bestow those winning arts
This night we'd fix her empire in your hearts ;

No tragic passions should deface the age,
But all should catch good-humour from the stage:
The storming husband, and imperious wife,
Should learn the doctrine of a quiet life:
The plodding drudge should here at times resort,
And leave his stupid club, and stummy port ;
The pensive politician, who foresees

Clouds, storms, and tempests, in the calms of

peace;

The scribbling tribe, who vent their angry spleens In songs, prints, pamphlets, papers, magazines; Lucius, and Anti-Lucius, pro's and con's,

The list of placets, and of placet-nons;
The mobbing vulgar, and the ruling great,
And all who storm, and all who steer the state;
Here should forget the labours of the day,
And laugh their cares and their complaints away.
The wretch of Jonathan's, who, crushed with
shame,

Crawls lamely out from India's desperate game,
Safely might speculate within these walls;
For here, while you approve, stock never falls:
Pleased then indulge the efforts of to-night,
Nor grudge to give, if you've received delight,

House. A fine pickle he'll put the house into ! Had he been master's own son, and a Christian Englishman, there couldn't be more rout than there is about this Creolian, as they call them.

Ser. No matter for that; he's very rich, and that's sufficient. They say he has rum and sugar enough belonging to him, to make all the water in the Thames into punch. But I see my master's coming. [Exeunt.

STOCKWELL enters, followed by a Servant. Stock. Where is Mr Belcour? Who brought this note from him?

Ser. A waiter from the London tavern, sir; he says the young gentleman is just dressed, and will be with you directly.

Stock. Shew him in when he arrives.

Ser. I shall, sir. I'll have a peep at him first, however; I've a great mind to see this outlandish spark. The sailor fellow says he'll make rare doings amongst us. [Aside. Stock. You need not wait-leave me. [Exit. Servant.] Let me see[Reads.

'SIR,

|

all my difficulties have arisen; 'tis the passage from the river-side I complain of.

Stock. Ay, indeed! What obstructions can pu have met between this and the river-side?

Bel. Innumerable! Your town's as full of s files as the island of Corsica; and, I believe, the are as obstinately defended: so much hurry, tle, and confusion on your quays; so many sp casks, porter-butts, and common-council-ne your streets, that, unless a man marched with: tillery in his front, 'tis more than the labour Hercules can effect, to make any tolerable v through your town.

Stock. I am sorry you have been so incom

ded.

Bel. Why, faith, 'twas all my own fault. customed to a land of slaves, and out of pat with the whole tribe of custom-house extoran boatmen, tide-waiters, and water-bailiffs, the set me on all sides, worse than a swarm of quetoes, I proceeded a little too roughly to be them away with my rattan: the sturdy rogues: this in dudgeon, and, beginning to rebel, the chose different sides, and a furious scuffle ets...

Yours,

BELCOUR.'

He writes at his ease; for he's unconscious to whom his letter is addressed; but what a palpitation does it throw my heart into! a father's heart! 'Tis an affecting interview; when my eyes meet a son, whom yet they never saw, where shall I find constancy to support it? Should he resemble his mother, I am overthrown. All the letters I have had from him (for I industriously drew him into a correspondence with me), bespeak him of quick and ready understanding.-All the reports I ever received, give me favourable impressions of his character; wild, perhaps, as the manner of his country is ; but, I trust, not frantic or unprincipled.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Sir, the foreign gentleman is come. Enter another Servant.

Ser. Mr Belcour.

BELCOUR enters.

Stock. Mr Belcour, I'm rejoiced to see you; you're welcome to England.

Bel. I thank you heartily, good Mr Stockwell: you and I have long conversed at a distance; now we are met; and the pleasure this meeting gives me, amply compensates for the perils I have run through in accomplishing it.

Stock. What perils, Mr Belcour? I could not have thought you would have made a bad passage at this time of year.

Bel. Nor did we : courier-like, we came posting to your shores, upon the pinions of the swiftest gales that ever blew ; 'tis upon English ground

suffered so much, that I was obliged to step the first tavern to refit, before I could make approaches in any decent trim.

Stock. All without is as I wish; dear Nr add the rest, and I am happy! [Aside. We Belcour, 'tis a rough sample you have had countrymen's spirit; but, I trust, you'll not .. the worse of them for it.

Bel. Not at all, not at all; I like them the ter. Were I only a visitor, I might, perhaps, « them a little more tractable; but, as a fellow ject, and a sharer in their freedom, I applau spirit, though I feel the effects of it in every of my skin.

Stock. That's well; I like that well. How ly I could fall upon his neck, and own mys father!

Bel. Well, Mr Stockwell, for the first tim my life, here am I in England; at the fa head of pleasure, in the land of beauty, of and elegancies. My happy stars have give a good estate, and the conspiring winds have b me hither to spend it.

Stock. To use it, not to waste it, I hope; to treat it, Mr Belcour, not as a ta over whom you have a wanton and de power; but as a subject, which you are to govern with a temperate and restrained thority.

Bel. True, sir; most truly said! Mine commission, not a right: I am the offspr distress, and every child of sorrow is my b While I have hands to hold, therefore, I w them open to mankind: but, sir, my pas are my masters: they take me where they and oftentimes they leave to reason and to nothing but my wishes and my sighs.

Stock. Come, come; the man, who can act corrects himself.

Bel. Ah! that's an office I am weary of