with: this pass I defend: what, dost 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 scold

pose: your yoke, Lady Dove, has lain too heavy upon my shoulders; I can support it no longer; to-morrow, madam, you leave this house.

Lady Dove. What is it you mean to do with my concurrence? what mighty project does your wise brain teem with?

Sir Ben. Nay, now I reflect on't again, I don't think there'll be any need of your concurrence; for, nolens or volens, I'm determined it shall be done. In short, this it is, I am unalterably resolved, from this time forward, Lady Dove, to be sole and absolute in this house, master of my own servants, father to my own child, and sovereign lord and governor, madam, over my own wife.

Lady Dore. 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. Hah! 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 is here! Egad, I'm very glad on't-I've no notion of a female administration. [Exit.

Lady Dove. What insolence is this, Sir Benjamin what ribaldry do you shock my ears with? Let me pass, sir; I'll stay no longer in the same room with you.

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

Lady Dove. Will you break my heart, you tyrant? Will you turn me out of doors to starve, you barbarous man?

Sir Ben. Oh! never fear; you will fare to the full as well as you did in your first husband's time; in your poor, dear, dead Mr Searcher's time. You told me once you prized the paltry greyhound that hung at his button-hole, more than all the jewels my folly had lavish'd upon you. I take you at your word; you shall have your bauble, and I will take back all mine; they'll be of no use to you hereafter.

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 intercede with you in 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 connection; 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 tease 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.

GOODWIN and FANNY.

Enter

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?

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 acquaintance 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, wasn't 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 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.

SCENE II.

Enter PATERSON.

Pat. Pray, good people, isn't there a lady with vou of the name of Violetta?

Good. There is.

Pat. Can you direct me to her? I have business with her of the utmost consequence.

Good. Fanny, you and Mr Francis step in and let the lady know. [Exeunt FANNY and FRANCIS,

SCENE III.

GOODWIN and PATERSON.

Good. If it's 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, master 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.

SCENE IV.

Enter VIOLETTA.

Pat. Madam, I presume your name is Violetta? Vio. It is, sir.

Pat. I wait upon you, madam, at Miss Dove's desire, and as a particular friend of Mr Andrew Belfield's.

Vio. Sir!

Put. Madam !

Vio. Pray proceed.

Put. To entreat the favour of your company at Cropley-castle upon business, wherein that lady and gentleman 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 Bel

field 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.

Put. 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 no 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

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 PATERSON.

Put. 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 VI.

JAMIN DOVE and Lady DOVE.

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?

Vio. Ay; 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, that

Vio. 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 involved us?

Pat. 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, and direct these good people to find young Belfield, and send him after us-Old Ironsides and all must be there. [Exit PAT.

SCENE V. Vio. Let me reflect upon my fate-Wedded, betrayed, abandoned! at once a widow and a

Sir Ben. Upon these terms and stipulations, Lady Dove, I consent to your remaining at Cropley-castle. Enjoy your own prerogative, and leave dear, I must insist that Mr Paterson be lienceme in possession of mine; above all things, my forward considered as my friend and companion, and not your ladyship's.

Lady Dove. Nay, but indeed and indeed, my dear Sir Benjamin, that 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 sure? Why you know, my dearest, that your minds; would you envy me that innocent plea passion for me, which was once so violent, is now softened and subsided into mere friendship. afraid lest my love having, by easy degrees, slackened into friendship, his friendship should, by as natural a transition, quicken into love; say no more, therefore, upon this point, but leave me to Mr Paterson, and Mr Paterson to me-gosend 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 your's, Good morning to you.

Sir Ben. True, my dear; and, therefore, I am

[Exit Lady DOVE.,

SCENE VII.

Enter SOPHIA.

Sir Ben. Well, daughter, are you prepared to comply with my desires, and give your hand to Andrew Belfield this morning? Soph. Sir!

Sir Ben. My heart is fixt upon this event; I have watched late and early to bring it to bear; and you'll find, my child, when you come to peuse your marriage settlement, how tenderly I have consulted your happiness in this match. Soph. Alas! I should never think of search,

ing 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 interest will be consolidated by this match, as well as our estates.

Soph. 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.

Soph. 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.

SCENE VIII.

Enter PATERSON.

Pat. Joy to you, Sir Benjamin! all joy attend you both! the bridegroom by this time has 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 Bel, field in the face.

Put. Fear nothing, Sir Benjamin: make haste and receive your son-in-law; I have news to communicate to Miss Dove, which, I am confident, 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.

Soph. I am surprised, Mr PatersonPut. 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 to be 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 yours also.

Soph. 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 bed. chamber: 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.

SCENE IX.

Enter Sir BENJAMIN DOVE and BELFIELD
Senior.

Sir Ben. Well, Mr Paterson, what says my daughter?

Put. 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, heark'e, my friend, as you go by Lady Dove's door, give her a call, do 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 have 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.

Bel. sen. How comes it to pass, Sir Benjamin, that Mr Paterson becomes so necessary an agent in the female affairs of your family? I confess to you, my pride is wounded, when I find I am to thank him for your daughter's consent to marry The man that can prevail upon a woman to act against her liking, what may he not persuade her to do with it?

me.

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.