SCENE III.

Enter other Sailors.

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

1 Sail. 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 call'd- -Come along.

[Exeunt sailors.

SCENE IV.

Enter BELFIELD Junior, 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 stow'd 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, 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 ny 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.

Fran. '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.

Bel. 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 convinc'd, remains untold, and of a melancholy sort: she has once or twice, as I thought, seem'd dispos'd to unbosom herself to me; but it is so painful to be told of sorrows one hasn't power to relieve, that I have hitherto avoided the dis

course.

SCENE V.

Enter VIOLETTA.

Bel. jun. Well, madam, melancholy still still that face of sorrow and despair? twice shipwreck'd, and twice rescu'd from the jaws of death, do you regret your preservation; and have I incurr'd 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, founder'd by your side, with what noble, what benevolent ardour you flew to my assistance? Regardful only of my safety, your own seem'd 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 discourag'd; 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. 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 mon sters 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?

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 scatter'd my treasure, those waves, that have devour'd 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 ungrateful country?

Bel. jun. Hold, madam; one villain, however base, 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 being?

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

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