O. Good. Ah, child! Philip. Nay, never droop; to be sure, father, the 'squire has dealt hardly with you; and a mighty point truly he has gained-the ruin of an honest man! If those are to be the uses of a great estate, Heaven continue me what I am! Fanny. Ay, ay, brother; a good conscience in a coarse drugget, is better than an aching heart in a silken gown. O. Good. Well, children, well, if you can bear 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. Philip. 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. 0. 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. Philip. 'Tis to no purpose; the crew are coming ashore in their boat-I saw them enter the creek. O. 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. Philip. 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. Fanny. Do so, Philip; 'twill be best. [Exeunt severally. Enter OLD GOODWIN, followed by FRANCIS and se veral SAILORS, carrying Goods and Chests from the Wreck. 0. Good. This way, my friends, this way; there's stowage enough within for all your goods. Francis. Come, bear a hand, my brave lads, there's no time to lose; follow that honest man, and set down your chests where he directs you. Sailor. Troth, I care not how soon I'm quit of mine; 'tis plaguy heavy. [Exeunt. Enter SAILORS. 1 Sailor. Here's a pretty spot of work! plague on't, what a night has this been! I thought this damn'd lee-shore would catch us at last. 2 Sailor. Why, 'twas unpossible to claw her off; well, there's an end of her-the Charming Sally Privateer!-Poor soul; a better sea boat never swam upon the salt sea. 3 Sailor. I knew we should have no luck after we took up that woman there from the packet that sunk alongside us. 1 Sailor. 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 -[Boatswain's friend; and, between you and me- [Exeunt SAILORS. Enter BELFIELD JUNIOR, and FRANCIS. Belf. jun. That ever fortune should cast us upon this coast, Francis! Francis. Sir! Belf. jun. Have the people landed those chests we brought off with us in the boat? Francis. They have, sir; an old fisherman, whom we met, has shown us here to a cavern in the cliff, where we have stowed them all in safety. Belf. jun. That's well.-Where's my uncle? Francis. 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. : Belf. jun. Strange insensibility! but you must bring him off by force then, if there is no other way of saving him I think, o'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 Ironside's 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. Francis. 'Tis true, sir; and I think 'twill be advisable 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. Belf. jun. I think so, too. Go then, Francis, and conduct the old gentleman hither; I see Violetta coming. [Exit FRANCIS.] Sure, there is something in that woman's story uncommonly mysterious.Of English parents-born 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. 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. Belf. 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 only in our cli mate. Vio. These characteristics of the English may be just; I take my estimate from a less favourable example. Belf. jun. Villany, madam, is the growth of every soil; 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 now landed? Belf. 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? Belf. 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 ! Belf. 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 Belf. 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. Vio. What, and are you a fellow sufferer, then? 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 ingrateful country? Belf. jun. Hold, madam! one villain, however base, can no more involve a whole nation in his crimes, than one example, however dignified, can in |