Belf. jun. A man, madam; and, though not your man, yet one as honest and as secret : come, come, my lady, I'm no tell-tale; be you but grateful, this goes no further.

Lady D. Lost and undone! young Belfield!

Belf. jun. The same; but be not alarmed; we both have our secrets; I am, like you, a votary to love: favour but my virtuous passion for Miss Dove, and take you your Paterson; I shall be silent as the

grave.

Lady D. Humph!

Belf. jun. Nay, never hesitate; my brother, I know, had your wishes: but wherein has nature favoured him more than me? And, since fortune has now made my scale as heavy as his, why should you partially direct the beam?

Lady D. Well, if it is so, and that you promise not to betray me-But this accident has so discomposed me, (plague on't, say I!) don't press me any further, at present; I must leave you; remember the condition of our agreement, and expect my friendship- -Oh, I could tear your eyes out! [Exit. Belf. jun. Well, Sir Benjamin, keep your own council, if you are wise; I'll do as I would be done by ; I such a wife as Lady Dove, I should be very happy to have such a friend as Mr. Paterson.

had

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Another Part of the Garden.

Enter SOPHIA DOVE and LUCY WATERS.

Lucy. If there is faith in woman, I have seen young Belfield; I have beheld his apparition; for what else could it be?

D

Sophia. How? when? where? I shall faint with surprise!

Lucy. As I crossed the yew-tree walk, I saw him pass by the head of the canal, towards the house. Alas, poor youth! the injuries I have done him have called him from his grave.

Sophia. Injuries, Miss Waters! what injuries have you done him? Tell me; for therein, perhaps, I may be concerned.

Lucy. Deeply concerned you are; with the most penitent remorse I confess it to you, that his affections to you were pure, honest, and sincere. Yes, amiable Sophia, you was unrivalled in his esteem; and I, who persuaded you to the contrary, am the basest, the falsest of womankind; every syllable I told you of his engagements to me was a malicious invention: how could you be so blind to your own superiority, to give credit to the imposition, and suffer him to depart without an explanation? Oh, that villain, that villain, his brother, has undone us all!

Sophia. Villain, do you call him? Whither would you transport my imagination? You hurry me with such rapidity from one surprise to another, that I know not where to fix, how to act, or what to believe.

Lucy. Oh, madam, he is a villain—a most accomplished one; and, if I can but snatch you from the snare he has spread for you, I hope it will, in some measure, atone for the injuries I have done to you, and to that unhappy youth, who now-O, Heavens! I see him again; he comes this way; I cannot endure his sight; alive or dead, I must avoid him.

Enter BELFIELD JUNIOR.,

[Runs out.

Belf. jun. Adorable Sophia! this transport overpays my labours!

Sophia. Sir, Mr. Belfield, is it you? Oh, support

me!

Belf. jun. With my life, thou loveliest of women! Behold your poor adventurer is returned! happy past compute, if his fate is not indifferent to you; rich beyond measure, if his safety is worthy your concern.

Sophia. Release me, I beseech you what have I done! Sure you are too generous to take advantage of my confusion !

Belf. jun. Pardon me, my Sophia; the advantages I take from your confusion are not to be purchased by the riches of the east: I would not forego the transport of holding you one minute in my arms for all that wealth and greatness have to give.

Enter LADY DOVE, while BELFIELD JUNIOR is kneeling and embracing SOPHIA.

Lady D. Heyday! what's here to do with you both?

Sophia. Ah!

Belf. jun. Confusion! Lady Dove here!

[Shrieks.

Lady D. Yes, sir, Lady Dove is here, and will take care you shall have no more garden dialogues. On your knees too!(The fellow was not half so civil to me.) Ridiculous! a poor, beggarly, swabber truly -As for you, Mrs.

Belf. jun. Hold, madam, as much of your fury and foul language as you please upon me; but not one hard word against that lady, or by Heavens!——

Lady D. Come, sir, none of your reprobate swearing, none of your sea-noises here; I would my first husband was alive, I would he was, for your sake. I am surpris'd, Miss Dove, you have no more regard for your reputation; a delicate swain truly you have chosen, just thrown ashore from a shipwreck'd privateer. Go, go, get you in, for shame; your father shall know of these goings on, depend on't: as for you, sir

[Exit SOPHIA.-AS LADY DOVE is going out, BELFIELD JUNIOR stops her.

Belf. jun. A word with you, madam; is this fair dealing? What would you have said, if I had broke in thus upon you and Mr. Paterson?

Lady D. Mr. Paterson! why you rave; what is it you mean?

Belf. jun. Come, come, this is too ridiculous; you know your reputation is in my keeping; call to mind what passed between us a while ago, and the engagement you are under on that account.

Lady D. Ha! ha! ha!

Belf. jun. Very well, truly; and you think to brave this matter out, do you?

Lady D. Most assuredly; and shall make Sir Benjamin call you to account, if you dare to breathe a word against my reputation: incorrigible coxcomb! to think I would keep any terms with you after such an event. Take my word for it, Belfield, you are come home no wiser than you went out; you missed the only advantage you might have taken of that rencounter, and now I set you at defiance: take heed to what you say, or look to hear from Sir Benjamin.

Belf. jun. Oh, no doubt on't: how can Sir Benjamin avoid fighting for your sake, when your ladyship has so liberally equipped him with weapons?

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE IV.

A Hall.

JONATHAN and FRANCIS.

Jon. And so, sir, 'tis just as I tell you; every thing in this family goes according to the will of the lady: for my own part, I am one of those that hate trouble;

I swim with the stream, and make my place as easy

as I can.

Francis. Your looks, Mr. Jonathan, convince me that you live at your ease.

Jon. I do so; and therefore, (in spite of the old proverb, ". Like master, like man") you never saw two people more different than I and Sir Benjamin Dove. He, Lord help him! is a little, peaking, puling thing; I am a jolly, portable man, as you see. It so happened, that we both became widowers at the same time; I knew when I was well, and have continued single ever since. He fell into the clutches of-Hark, sure I hear my lady

Francis. No, it was nothing. When did the poor gentleman light upon this termagant?

Jon. Lackaday, 'twas here at the borough of Knavestown, when master had the great contest with 'Squire Belfield, about three years ago: her first husband, Mr. Searcher, was a king's messenger, as they call it, and came down express from a great man about court during the poll; he caught a surfeit, as ill-luck would have it, at the election-dinner: and, before he died, his wife, that's now my lady, came down to see him; then it was master fell in love with her: egad, 'twas the unluckiest job of all his life.

Sir Benjamin. [Without.] Jonathan! why Jonathan!

Francis. Hark, you are called!

Jon. Ay, ay, 'tis only my master; my lady tells the servants not to mind what Sir Benjamin says, and I love to do as I am bid.

Francis. Well, honest Jonathan, if you won't move, I must; by this time I hope my young master is happy with your young [Exit FRANCIS.

mistress.

Enter SIR BENJAMIN DOVE.

Sir Benj. Why, Jonathan, I say. Oh, are you here? Why couldn't you come, when I called you?