SIR BENJAMIN Dove, henpecked by his wife.

BELFIELD sen.

the Brothers.

BELFIELD jun.

LADY DOVE.

WOMEN.

jun.

SKIFF, master of the privateer.

PATERSON, servant to SIR BENJAMIN.

LUCY WATERS.

KITTY, LADY DOVE's maid.

OLD GOODWIN, a fisherman.

PHILIP, his son.

FRANCIS, servant to BELFIELD jun.

JONATHAN, servant to SIR BENJAMIN.

SCENE I-A rocky shore, with a fisherman's cabin in the cliff: a violent tempest, with thunder and lightning: a ship discovered stranded on the coast. The characters enter, after having looked out of their cabin, as if waiting for the abatement of the storm.

GOODWIN, PHILIP, and FANNY.

Phi. Ir blows a rank storm; 'tis well, father, we hauled the boat ashore before the weather came on; she's safe bestowed, however, let what will happen.

Good. Ay, Philip, we had need be provident: except that poor skiff, my child, what have we left in this world that we can call our own?

misfortunes patiently, 'twere an ill office for me to repine; we have long tilled the earth for a subsistence; now, Philip, we must plough the ocean; in those waves lies our harvest; there, my brave lad, we have an equal inheritance with the best.

Phi. True, father; the sea, that feeds us, provides us an habitation here in the hollow of the cliff. I trust, the 'squire will exact no rent for this dwelling-Alas! that ever two brothers should have been so opposite as our merciless landlord, and the poor young gentleman, they say, is now dead.

Good. Sirrah, I charge you, name not that unhappy youth to me any more; I was endeavouring to forget him and his misfortunes, when the sight of that vessel in distress brought him afresh to my remembrance; for, it seems, he perished by sea: the more shame upon him, whose cruelty and injustice drove him thither. But come, the wind lulls apace; let us launch the boat, and make a trip to yonder vessel: if we can assist in lightening her, perhaps she may ride it out.

Phi. Tis to no purpose; the crew are coming ashore in their boat; I saw them enter the creek. Good. Did you so? Then, do you and your sister step into the cabin; make a good fire, and provide such fish and other stores as you have within: I will go down, and meet them: whoever they may be, that have suffered this misfortune on our coasts, let us remember, children, never to regard any man as an enemy, who stands in need of our protection. [Exit GooD. Phi. I am strongly tempted to go down to the creek, too; if father should light on any mischief well, for once in my life, I'll disobey him; sister, you can look to matters within doors; I'll go round by the point, and be there as soon as he.

Fan. Do so, Philip; 'twill be best.

well, there's an end of her-The Charming Sally privateer!-Poor soul; a better sea boat never swam upon the salt sea.

3d Sai. I knew we should have no luck after we took up that woman there from the packet that sunk along side us.

1st Sai. What, madam Violetta, as they call her? Why, 'tis like enough-But hush, here comes our captain's nephew; he's a brave lad, and a seaman's friend, and, between you and me Boatswain's whistle.]-But hark, we are called -Come along! [Exeunt Sailors.

SCENE IV.

BELFIELD jun. and FRANCIS.

Bel. jun. That ever fortune should cast us upon this coast!-Francis! Fran. Sir!

Bel. jun. Have the people landed those chests we brought off with us in the boat?

Fran. They have, sir; an old fisherman, whom we met, has shewn us here to a cavern in the cliff, where we have stowed them all in safety.

Bel. jun. That's well. Where's my uncle?

Fran. On board; no persuasions can prevail on him to quit the ship, which, he swears, will lift with the tide; his old crony, the master, is with him, and they ply the casks so briskly, that it seems a moot point, which fills the fastest, they, or the wreck.

Bel. jun. Strange insensibility! but you must bring him off by force, then, if there is no other way of saving him. I think, on my conscience, he is as indifferent to danger as the plank he treads on. We are now thrown upon my unnatural brother's estate; that house, Francis, which you see to the left, is his; and what may be the consequence if he and my uncle should meet, I know not; for such has been captain Ironsides' resentment on my account, that he has declared war against the very name of Belfield; and, in one of his whimsical passions, you know, insisted on my laying it aside for ever; so that hitherto I have been known on board by no other name than that of Lewson.

Fran. Tis true, sir; and, I think, 'twill be adviseable to continue the disguise as long as you

can.

As for the old captain, from the life he always leads on shore, and his impatience to get on board again, I think, 'tis very possible an interview between him and your brother may be prevented.

Bel. jun. I think so, too. Go then, Francis, and conduct the old gentleman hither; I see Violetta coming. [Exit FRAN. Sure there is something in that woman's story uncommonly mysterious-Of English parentsborn in Lisbon-her family and fortune buried in the earthquake-so much she freely tells; but more, I am convinced, remains untold, and of a melancholy sort: she has once or twice, as I

thought, seemed disposed to unbosom herself to me; but it is so painful to be told of sorrows one has not power to relieve, that I have hitherto avoided the discourse.

Enter VIOLETTA.

Bel. jun. Well, madam, melancholy still? still that face of sorrow and despair? twice shipwrecked, and twice rescued from the jaws of death, do you regret your preservation? and have I incurred your displeasure, by prolonging your existence?

Vio. Not so, Mr Lewson; such ingratitude be far from me. Can I forget, when the vessel, in which I had sailed from Portugal, foundered by your side, with what noble, what benevolent ardour, you flew to my assistance? Regardful only of my safety, your own seemed no part of your

care.

Bel. jun. Oh! no more of this; the preservation of a fellow-creature is as natural as self-defence. You now, for the first time in your life, breathe the air of England-a rough reception it has given you; but be not, therefore, discouraged; our hearts, Violetta, are more accessible than our shores; nor can you find inhospitality in Britain, save in our climate only.

Vio. These characteristics of the English may be just. I take my estimate from a less favourable example.

Bel. jun. Villainy, madam, is the growth of every soul; nor can I, while yonder habitation is in my view, forget, that England has given birth to monsters that disgrace humanity; but this I will say for my countrymen, that, where you can point out one rascal with a heart to wrong you, I will produce fifty honest fellows ready and resolute to redress you.

Vio. Ah!-But on what part of the English coast is it that we are landed?

Bel. jun. On the coast of Cornwall.

Vio. Of Cornwall is it? You seem to know the owner of that house: are you well acquainted with the country hereabouts?

Bel. jun. Intimately; it has been the cradle of my infancy, and, with little interruption, my residence ever since.

Vio. You are amongst your friends, then, no doubt; how fortunate is it, that you will have their consolation and assistance in your distress. Bel. jun. Madam

Vio. Every moment will bring them down to the very shores; this brave, humane, this hospitable people, will flock, in crowds, to your relief; your friends, Mr Lewson

Bel. jun. My friends, Violetta! must I confess it to you, I have no friends-those rocks, that have thus scattered my treasures, those waves, that have devoured them, to me are not so fatal, as hath been that man, whom Nature meant to be my nearest friend.

Is this the way you reconcile me to your nation? Are these the friends of human kind? Why don't we fly from this ungenerous, this ungrateful country?

Bel. jun. Hold, madam! one villain, however hase, can no more involve a whole nation in his crimes, than one example, however dignified, can inspire it with his virtues: thank Heaven, the worthless owner of that mansion is yet without a rival.

Vio. You have twice directed my attention to that house; 'tis a lovely spot; what pity that so delicious a retirement should be made the residence of so undeserving a being!

Bel. jun. It is, indeed, a charming place, and was once the seat of hospitality and honour; but, its present possessor, Andrew Belfield--Madam, for Heaven's sake, what ails you? you seem suddenly disordered- -Have I said.

Vio. No, 'tis nothing; don't regard me, Mr Lewson. I am weak, and subject to these surprizes; I shall be glad, however, to retire.

Bel. jun. A little repose, I hope, will relieve you; within this hut, some accommodation may be found: lean on my arm.

[Leads her to the door of the cabin.

Enter GOODWIN.

Good. Heaven defend me! do my eyes deceive me? 'tis wondrous like his shape, his air, his look

Bel. jun. What is your astonishment, friend? Do you know me? If it was not for that habit, I should say your name is Goodwin.

Good. 'Tis he! he is alive! my dear young master, Mr Belfield! Yes, sir, my name is Goodwin: however changed my appearance, my heart is still the same, and overflows with joy at this unexpected meeting.

Bel. jun. Give me thy hand, my old, my honest friend; and is this sorry hole thy habitation?

Good. It is.

Bel. jun. The world, I see, has frowned on thee since we parted.

Good. Yes, sir: but what are my misfortunes? you must have undergone innumerable hardships; and now, at last, shipwrecked on your own coast! Well, bet your vessel is not totally lost, and we will work night and day in saving your effects.

Bel. jun. Oh, as for that, the sea gave all, let it take back a part; I have enough on shore not to envy my brother his fortune. But there is one blessing, master Goodwin, I own I should grudge him the possession of-There was a young lady

Good. What, sir, have not you forgot Miss Sophia?

Bel. jun. Forgot her! my heart trembles while I ask you, if she is indeed, as you call her, Miss