ACT IV. SCENE I.-The cabin, with a view of the sea, the door of your cabin; there's a young woman as before. PHILIP, LUCY WATERS. Phi. How I have loved you, Lucy, and what I have suffered on your account, you know well enough; and you should not now, when I am struggling to forget you, come to put me in mind of past afflictions: go, go; leave me: I pray you, leave me. Lucy. Nay, Philip, but hear me ! Phi. Hear you, ungrateful girl! you know it has been all my delight to hear you, to see you, and to sit by your side; for hours have I done it; for whole days together: but those days are past; I must labour now for my livelihood; and, if you rob me of my time, you wrong me of my subsistence. Lucy. O! Philip, I am undone, if you don't protect me! Phi. Ah! Lucy, that, I fear, is past prevention! Lucy. No, Philip, no; I am innocent! and, therefore, persecuted by the most criminal of men. I have disclosed all Mr Belfield's artifices to Miss Sophia, and now am terrified to death; I saw him follow me out of the Park, as I was coming hither, and I dare not return home alone; indeed, Philip, I dare not. Phi. Well, Lucy, step in with me, and fear nothing; I see the 'squire is coming,-He, who can refuse his protection to a woman, may he Dever taste the blessings a woman can bestow! SCENE II. Enter BELFIELD sen. [Exeunt. Bel. sen. Ay, 'tis she! Confusion follow her! -How perversely has she traversed my projects with Sophia!-By all that's resolute, I'll be revenged. My brother, too, returned. Vexatious circumstance! there am I foiled again-Since first I stepped out of the path of honour, what have I obtained?O treachery! treachery! if thou canst not in this world make us happy, better have remained that dull formal thing, an honest man, and trusted to what the future might produce. Enter PHILIP. So, fellow, who are you? Phi. A man, sir; an honest man! Bel. sen. A saucy one, methinks. Phi. The injurious are apt to think so; however, I ask pardon: as your riches make you too proud, my honesty, perhaps, makes me too bold. Bel. sen. O! I know you now; you are son to that old fellow I thought proper to discharge from my farm; please to betake yourself from within I must have a word with. Phi. If 'tis Lucy Waters you would speak with Bel. sen. If, rascal! It is Lucy Waters that I would speak with; that I will speak with; and, spite of your insolence, compel to answer whatever I please to ask, and go with me wherever I please to carry her. Phi. Then, sir, I must tell you, poor as I am, she is under my protection: you see, sit, I am armed; you have no right to force an entrance here; and, while I have life, you never shall. Bel. sen. Then, be it at your peril, villain, if you oppose me, [They fight. Enter PATERSON, who beats down their swords. Pat. For shame, Mr Belfield! what are you about? Tilting with this peasant! Bel. sen. Paterson, stand off! Pat. Come, come; put up your sword. Bel. sen. Damnation, sir! what do you mean? Do you turn against me? Give way, or, by my soul, I'll run you through! Enter CAPTAIN IRONSIDES and SKIFF. Iron. Hey-day, what the devil ails you all? I thought the whole ship's company had sprung a mutiny. Master and I were taking a nap together for good fellowship; and you make such a damned clattering and clashing, there's no sleeping in peace for you. Bel. sen. Come, Mr Paterson, will you please to bear me company, or stay with your new acquaintance? Iron. Oh ho! my righteous nephew, is it you that are kicking up this riot? Why, you ungracious profligate, would you murder an honest lad in the door of his own house?-his castle-his castellum-Are these your fresh-water tricks? Bel. sen. Your language, Captain Ironsides, savours strongly of your profession; and I hold both you, your occupation, and opinion, equally vulgar and contemptible. Pat. Come, Mr Belfield, come: for Heaven's sake let us go home. Iron. My profession! Why, what have you to say to my profession, you unsanctified whelp you? I hope 'tis an honest vocation to fight the enemies of one's country. You, it seems, are for murdering its friends. I trust, it is not for such a skipjack as thee art, to fleer at my profession. Master, did'st ever hear the like? Skiff. Never, Captain, never. For my own part, I am one of few words; but, for my own part, I always thought, that to be a brave seaman, like your honour, was the greatest title an Englishman can wear. Iron. Why, so it is, Skiff: ahem! Bel, sen. Well, sir, I leave you to the enjoy Iron. Your father was an honest gentleman: your mother, though I say it, that should not say it, was an angel; my eyes ache when I speak of her: ar'n't you ashamed, sirrah, to disgrace such parents? My nephew Bob, your brother, is as honest a lad, and as brave, as ever stept between stem and stern; a' has a few faults indeed, as who is free? But you, Andrew, you are as false as a quick-sand, and as full of mischief as a fileship. Bel. sen. Captain Ironsides, I have but little time to bestow on you; if you have nothing else to entertain me with, the sooner we part the bet ter. Iron. No, sir, one thing more, and I have done with you. They tell me you're parliament-man -here for the borough of Knavestown: the Lord have mercy upon the nation, when such fellows as thou art are to be our law-makers-For my own part, I can shift; I'll take shipping, and live in Lapland, and be dry nurse to a bear, rather than dwell in a country where I am to be governed by such a thing as thou art. Bel. sen. By your manners, I should guess you had executed that office already: however, lose no time, fit out a new Charming Sally, and set sail for Lapland; 'tis the properest place for you to live in, and a bear the fittest companion for you to keep. [Exeunt BELFIELD and PATERSON. Iron. Hark'e, Philip? I forgot to ask what all this stir was about. Phi. Sir, if you please to walk in, I will inform you. Iron. With all my heart. A pragmatical, impertinent coxcomb! Come, master, we'll fill a pipe, and hear the lad's story within doors. I never yet was ashamed of my profession, and I'll take care my profession shall have no reason to be ashamed of me. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter BELFIELD jun. and SOPHIA. Bel. jun. Madam, madam, will you not vouch safe to give me a hearing? Sophia. Unless you could recal an act, no earthly power can cancel, all attempt at explana tion is vain. Bel. jun. Yet, before we part for ever, ob stinate, inexorable Sophia! tell me what is my offence? Sophia. Answer yourself that question, Mr Belfield; consult your own heart; consult your Violetta. Bel. jun. Now, on my life, she's meanly jeal |ous of Violetta! that grateful woman has been warm in her commendations of me, and her distempered fancy turns that candour into criminality. Sophia. Ha! he seems confounded! guilty beyond all doubt. Bel. jun By Heaven I'll no longer be the dupe to these bad humours! Lucy Waters, Violetta, every woman she sees or hears, alarms her jealousy, overthrows my hopes, and rouses every passion into fury. Well, madam, at length I see what you allude to; I shall follow your advice, and consult my Violetta; nay, more, consult my happiness; for with her, at least, I shall find repose; with you, I plainly see, there can be none. Sophia. 'Tis very well, sir; the only favour you can now grant me, is never to let me see you again; for, after what has passed between us, every time you intrude into my company, you will commit au insult upon good breeding and humanity. Bel. jun. Madam, I'll take care to give you no further offence. [Erit. Sophia. Oh! my poor heart will break! Enter SIR BENJAMIN DOVE. Sir Ben. Hey-day, Sophia, what's the matter? What ails my child? Who has offended you? Did not I see the younger Belfield part from you just now? Sophia. O, sir! if you have any love for me, don't name that base, treacherous wretch, to me any more. [Erit. Sir Ben. Upon my word, I am young Mr Belfield's most obsequious servant! a very notable confusion truly has he been pleased to make in my family! Lady Dove raves, Sophia cries; my wife calls him a saucy, impudent fellow; my daughter says he's a base, treacherous wretch; from all which I am to conclude, that he has spoke too plain truths to the one, and told too many lies to the other. One lady is irritated because he has refused favours; the other, perhaps, is afflicted because he has obtained them. Lady Dove has peremptorily insisted upon my giving him a challenge; but, to say the truth, I had no great stomach to the business, till this fresh provocation. I perceive now, I am growing into a most unaccountable rage; 'tis something so different from what I ever felt before, that, for what I know, it may be courage, and I mistake it for anger. I never did quarrel with any man, and, hitherto, no man ever quarrelled with me. Egad, if once I break the ice, it shan't stop here if young Belfield doesn't prove me a coward, lady Dove shall see that I am a man of spirit.-Sure I see my gentleman coming hither again. [Steps aside. Enter BELFIELD jun. Bel. jun. What meanness, what infatuation possesses me, that I should resolve to throw my self once more in her way! but she's gone, and yet I may escape with credit. Sir Ben. Ay, there he is, sure enough: by the mass, I don't like him: I'll listen awhile, and discover what sort of a humour he is in. Bel. jun. I am ashamed of this weakness: I am determined to assume a proper spirit, and act as becomes a man upon this occasion. Sir Ben. Upon my soul I'm very sorry for it! Bel. jun. Now am I so distracted between love, rage, and disappointment, that I could find in my heart to sacrifice her, myself, and all mankind. Sir Ben. Lord have mercy upon us! I'd bet ter steal off, and leave him to bimself. Bel. jun. And yet, perhaps, all this may proceed from an excess of fondness in my Sophia. Sir Ben. Upon my word you are blest with a most happy assurance. injured in this matter, and, as such, have a right to be in a passion; but I see neither right nor reason why you, who have done the wrong, should be as angry as I, who have received it. Bel. jun. I suspect I have totally mistaken this honest gentleman; he only wants to build some reputation with his wife upon this rencounter, and 'twould be inhuman not to gratify him. [Aside. Sir Ben. What shall I do now? Egad I seem to have posed him: this plaguy sword sticks so hard in the scabbard-Well, come forth, rapier; 'tis but one thrust; and what should a man fear, that has lady Dove for his wife? Bel. jun. Hey-day! Is the man mad? Put up your sword, sir Benjamin; put it up, and don't expose yourself in this manner. Sir Ben. You shall excuse me, sir; I have had some difficulty in drawing it, and am determined now to try what metal it's made of. So come on, sir. Bel. jun. Something may have dropped from Violetta to alarm her jealousy; and, working upon the exquisite sensibility of her innocent mind, may have brought my sincerity into ques-vou, sir Benjamin, I am in no humour for these tion. Sir Ben. I don't understand a word of all this. Bel. jun. Now could I fall at her feet for pardon, though I know not in what I have offended; I have not the heart to move. Fy upon it! What an arrant coward has love made me! Sir Ben. A coward does he say? I am heartily rejoiced to hear it if I must needs come to action, pray Heaven it be with a coward! I'll even take him while he is in the humour, for fear he should recover his courage, and I lose mine. [Aside.]-So, sir, your humble servant, Mr Belfield! I'm glad I have found you, sir. Bel. jun. Sir Benjamin, your most obedient. Pray, what are your commands, now you have found me? Sir Ben. Hold! hold! don't come any nearer: don't you see I am in a most prodigious passion? Fire and fury! what's the reason you have made all this disorder in my house? my daughter in tears; my wife in fits; every thing in an uproar; and all your doing! Do you think I'll put up with this treatment? If you suppose you have a coward to deal with, you'll find yourself mistaken; greatly mistaken, let me tell you, sir! Mercy upon me, what a passion I am in! In short, Mr Belfield, the honour of my house is concerned, and I must, and will have satisfaction. I think this is pretty well to set out with. I'm horribly out of breath. I sweat at every pore. What great fatigues do men of courage undergo! Bel. jun. Look'e, sir Benjamin, I don't rightly comprehend what you would be at; but, if you think I have injured you, few words are best; disputes between men of honour are soon adjusted; I'm at your service, in any way you think fit. Sir Ben. How you fly out now! Is that giving me the satisfaction I require? I am the person Bel. jun. Really this is too ridiculous; I tell follies. I've done no wrong to you or yours: on the contrary, great wrong has been done to me; but I have no quarrel with you; so, pray, put up your sword. Sir Ben. And I tell you, Mr Belfield, 'tis in vain to excuse yourself.-The less readiness he shews, so much the more resolution I feel. [Aside. Bel. jun. Weli, sir knight, if such is your humour, I won't spoil your longing. So have at you! Enter LADY DOVE. Lady Dove. Ah! [Shrieks. Bel. jun. Hold, hold, sir Benjamin!" I never fight in ladies' company. Why, I protest you are a perfect Amadis de Gaul; a Don Quixotte in heroism; and the presence of this your dulcinea renders you invincible. Sir Ben. Oh! my lady, is it you? don't be alarmed, my dear; 'tis all over: a small fracas between this gentleman and myself; that's all; don't be under any surprize; I believe the gentleman has had enough; I believe he is perfectly satisfied with my behaviour, and I persuade myself you will have no cause for the future to complain of his. Mr Belfield, this is lady Dove. Bel. jun. Madam, to a generous enemy, 'tis mean to deny justice, or with-hold applause. You are happy in the most valiant of defenders. Gentle as you may find him in the tender passions, to a man, madam, he acquits himself like a man. Sir Benjamin Dove, in justice to your merit, I am ready to make any submission to this lady you shall please to impose. If you suffer her to bully you after this, you deserve to be henpecked all the days of your life. [Aside. Sir Ben. Say no more, my dear Bob; I shall love you for this the longest hour I have to live. Bel. jun. If I have done you any service, promise 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. Lady Dove. Sir Benjamin -I Sir Ben. Here, Jonathan! do you hear? set my things ready in the library; make haste. Lady Dove. 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 satis fied. 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? is here! Egad, I'm very glad on't-I've no no- 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. Lady Dove. What, sir! will you imprison me in 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, after 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. 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 purpose: 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. Nay, now I reflect on't again, I don't Sir Ben. Oh! never fear; you will fare to the think there will be any need of your concurrence; full as well as you did in your first husband's for, nolens or volens, I'm determined it shall be time; in your poor, dear, dead, Mr Searcher's done. In short, this it is; I am unalterably re-time. You told me once you prized the paltry solved, from this time forward, lady Dove, to be grey-hound that hung at his button-hole, more sole and absolute in this house, master of my than all the jewels my folly had lavished upon own servants, father to my own child, and sove-you. I take you at your word. You shall have reign lord and governor, madam, over my own your bawble, and I will take back all mine; wife. they'll be of no use to you hereafter. Lady Dove. You are? Sir Ben. I am. Gods! gods! what a pitiful contemptible figure does a man make under petticoat government! Perish he that's mean enough to stoop to such indignities! I am determined to be free PATERSON enters, and whispers LADY Dove. Ha! how's this, Mr Paterson? What liberties are these you take with my wife, and before my face? no more of these freedoms, I beseech you, sir, as you expect to answer it to a husband, who will have no secrets whispered to his wife, to which he is not privy; nor any appointments made, in which he is not a party. Pat. Hey-day! what a change of government 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 uncommon 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 myself 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. Enter GOODWIN and FANNY. ACT V. 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? 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. 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 acquaint-ness with her of the utmost consequence. ance 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 Pat. Can you direct me to her? I have busi 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 Cropley-castle upon business, wherein that |