« السابقةمتابعة »
Lady Alt. What does he mean?
Free. Upon hearing that, and perceiving the Free. No, it is not there. It is in t'other danger you were in, I went immediately to the pocket, I believe. Here, sir William ! (Produs | present lord Brumpton ; who is a very honest cing a parchment.] Ask the gentleman, if that fellow, and one of the oldest acquaintance I will not do. But, first of all, read it yourself, have in the world. He, at my instance, immediand let us hear how you like the contents. ately made the necessary application; and guess
Sir Wil. What do I see! [Opening and per-| how agreeably we were surprised to hear that using it.] My pardon! the full and free pardon the late lord had already been successful, and of my offences! Oh heaven! and is it to you that the pardon had been made out, on the very then, to you, sir, that I owe all this?--Thus, thus morning of the day his lordship died. Away let me shew my gratitude to my bencfactor! went I, as fast as a pair of horses could carry me,
Falling at his feet. to fetch it; and should certainly have prevented Free. Get up, get up, sir William ! Thank this last arrest, if the warrant to apprehend you, Heaven, and the most gracious of monarchs. as dangerous persons, had not issued under your You have very little obligation to me, I promise assumed names of William Ford and Amelia you.
Walton, against whom the information had been Ame. My father restored ! Then I am the hap-| | laid. But, however, it has only served to prepiest of womeu !
vent your running away, when the danger was Lord Fal. A pardon! I am transported. over ; for at present, sir William, thank Ileaven Lady Alt. How's this? a pardon!
| and his majesty, you are a whole man again; and Free. Under the great seal, madam.
you have nothing to do but to make a legal Lady Alt. Confusion! what ! am I baffled at appearance, and to plead the pardon I bave last then? Am I disappointed even of my re-brought you, to absolve you from all informavenge? - Thou officious fool! [To FREEPORT.] tions. May these wretches prove as great a torment to Lord Fal. Thou honest, excellent man! How you, as they have been to me! As for thee, [To happily have you supplied, what I failed to acLORD FALBRIDGE.] thou perfidious monster, may complish! thy guilt prove thy punishment! May you obtain Free. Ay, I heard that your lordship had been the unworthy union you desire! May your wife busy.—You had inore friends at court than one, prove as false to you, as you have been to me! | sir William, I promise you. May you be followed, like Orestes, with the Sir Wil. I am overwhelmed with my sudden furies of a guilty conscience; find your error good fortune, and am poor even in thariks. when it is too late; and die in all the horrors Teach me, Mr Freeport, teach me how to make of despair !
[Erit. some acknowledgement for your extraordinary Free. There goes a woman of quality for you! | generosity! what little actions ! and what a great soul! - Free. I'll tell you what, sir William. NotHa! Master Spatter! where are you going? withstanding your daughter's pride, I took a
[To SPATTER, who is sneaking off: liking to her, the moment I saw her. Spat. Following the Muse, sir! [Pointing Lord Fal. Ha! What's this! after LADY Alton.) But if you have any fur Free. What's the matter, my lord? ther commands, or his lordship should have oc Lord Fal. Nothing. Go on, sir ! casion for me to write his epithalamium-
Free. Why, then, to confess the truth, I am Lord Fal. Peace, wretch! sleep in a whole afraid that my benevolence, which you have all skin, and be thankful! I would solicit mercy been pleased to praise so highly, had some little myself, and have not leisure to punish you. Be leaven of self-interest in it; and I was desirous gone, sir!
to promote Amelia's happiness more ways than Spat, I am obliged to your lordship—This af- one. fair will make a good article for the Evening- Lord Fal. Then I am the veriest wretch that Post to-night, however. [Aside, and Exit. ever existed.-But take her, sir! for I must
Sir Wil. How happy has this reverse of for- confess that you have deserved her by your tune made me !- But my surprise is almost equal proceedings ; and that I, fool and villain that to my joy. May we beg you, sir, [To FREEPORT.|| I was, have forfeited her by mine. [Going. to inform us how your benevolence has effected Free. Hold, hold ! one word before you go, if what seems almost a miracle, in my favour? you please, my lord ! You may kill yourself for
Free. In two words then, sir William, this aught I know, but you shan't lay your death at happy event is chiefly owing to your old friend, my door, I promise you. I had a kindness for the late lord Brumpton,
Amelia, I must confess; but, in the course of Sir Wil. Lord Brumpton!
my late negotiation for sir William, hearing of Free. Yes; honest Owen there told me, that your lordship's pretensious, I dropt all thoughts his lordship had been employed in soliciting your of her. It is a maxim with me, to do good pardon. Did not you, Oweni
wherever I can, but always to abstain from do. Owen. I did, sir.
ing mischief.-Now, as I can't make the lady
happy myself, I would fain put her into the fess, that I had conceived a partiality for yoga hands of those that can. So, if you would oblige your own conduct turned my heart against you; me, sir William, let me join these two young and if my resentment has given you any para folks together, (Joining their hands.] and do you when I consider the occasion, I must own that I say Amen to it.
cannot repent it. Sir Wil. With all my heart !—You can have | Lord Fal. Mention it no more, my love, I be no objection, Amelia ? TAMELIA bursts into tears. seech you! You may justly blame your lover, I
Lord Fal. How bitterly do those tears re- confess; but I will never give you cause to com proach me! It shall be the whole business of my plain of your husband. future life to atone for them.
Free. I don't believe you will. I give you Ame. Your actions this day, and your solici- joy, my lord! I give you all joy! As for YOL, tude for my father, have redeemed you in my madam, (To Amelia. do but shew the world good opinion; and the consent of sir William, that you can bear prosperity, as well as you have seconded by so powerful an advocate as Mr sustained the shocks of adversity, and there are Freeport, cannot be contended with. Take my few women, who may not wish to be an Ameliz hand, my lord ! a virtuous passion may inhabit
| Ereunt ORROS. the purest breast; and I am not ashamed to con
SOPHIA, Sır BENJAMIN's daughter.
VIOLETTA, wife to BELFIELD ser. Captain ÍRONSIDES, uncle to BELFIELD sen, and Fanny Goodwix. jun.
KITTY, LADY Dove's maid.
SceneThe sea coast of Cornwallo
SCENE I-A rocky shore, with a fisherman's | Phi. To my thoughts, now, we live as happily
cabin in the cliff: a violent tempest, with thun- in this poor hut, as we did yonder in the great der and lightning : a ship discovered stranded house, when you was 'squire Belfield's principal on the coast. The characters enter, after ha tenant, and as topping a farmer as any in the ving looked out of their cabin, as if waiting whole county of Cornwall. for the abatement of the storm.
Good. Ah, child !
Phi. Nay, never droop; to be sure, father, Goodwin, PHILIP, and Fanny.
the 'squire has dealt hardly with you, and a mighty Phi. Ir blows a rank storm; 'tis well, father, point, truly, he has gained! the ruin of an howe hauled the boat ashore before the weather nest man. If those are to be the uses of a great came on; she's safe bestowed, however, let what estate, Heaven continue me what I ain! will happen.
Fan. Ay, ay, brother, a good conscience in a Good. Ay, Philip, we had need be provident : coarse drugget, is better than an aching heart in except that poor skiff, my child, what have we a silken gown. left in this world that we can call our own! Good Well, children, well, if you can beur misfortunes patiently, 'twere an ill office for me well, there's an end of her_The Charming Set to repine; we have long tilled the earth for a privateer !-Poor soul; a better sea boat noe subsistence; now, Philip, we must plough the swam upon the salt sea. ocean; in those waves lies our harvest; there, 3d Sai. I knew we should have no luck after my brave lad, we have an equal inheritance with we took up that woman there from the packet the best.
that sunk along side us. Phi. True, father; the sea, that feeds us, pro 1st Sai. What, madam Violetta, as they ca] vides us an habitation here in the hollow of the her? Why, 'tis like enough—But bush, here cliff. I trust, the 'squire will exact no rent for this comes our captain's nephew; he's a brave lad, ad dwelling- Alas! that ever two brothers should a seaman's friend, and, between you and me have been so opposite as our merciless landlord, Boatswain's whistle. But hark, we are called and the poor young gentleman, they say, is now -Come along!
Escuni Sailors dead. Good. Sirrah, I charge you, name not that un
SCENE IV. happy youth to me any more; I was endeavouring to forget bim and his misfortunes, when the sight
BELFIELD jun. and FRANCIS. of that vessel in distress brought him afresh to Bel. jun. That ever fortune should cast us upea my remembrance; for, it seems, he perished by this coast !- Francis ! sea : the more shame upon him, whose cruelty! Fran. Sir! and injustice drove him thither. But come, the Bel. jun. Have the people landed those cbets wind lulls apace; let us launch the boat, and we brought off with us in the boat? make a trip to yonder vessel : if we can assist in Fran. They have, sir; an old fisherman, whoa lightening her, perhaps she may ride it out. we met, has shewn us here to a caven in the
Phi. 'Tis to no purpose; the crew are coming cliff, where we have stowed them all in safety. ashore in their boat; I saw them enter the creek. Bel. jun. That's well. Where's my uncle
Good. Did you so? Then, do you and your Fran. On board; no persuasions can prera sister step into the cabin; make a good fire, and on him to quit the ship, which, he swears, will provide such fish and other stores as you have lift with the tide; his old crony, the master, s within : I will go down, and meet them: who with him, and they ply the casks so briskly, that ever they may be, that have suffered this misfor- it seems a inoot point, which fills the fastest, tune on our coasts, let us remember, children, they, or the wreck. never to regard any man as an enemy, who stands Bel. jun. Strange insensibility! but you must in need of our protection.
Erit Good. bring him off by force, then, if there is no other Phi. I am strongly tempted to go down to the way of saving him. I think, on my conscience, creek, too; if father should light on any mischief he is as indifferent to danger as the plank be
- well, for once in my life, I'll disobey him; treads on. We are now thrown upon my unnatosister, you can look to matters within doors; ral brother's estate ; that house, Francis, which I'll go round by the point, and be there as soon you see to the left, is his; and what may be the as he.
consequence if he and my uncle should meet, I Fan. Do so, Philip; 'twill be best.
know not; for such has been captaio Ironsides' [Ereunt severally. resentment on my account, that he has declared
war against the very name of Belfield; and, in SCENE II.—Continues.
one of his whimsical passions, you know, insisted
on my laying it aside for ever; so that hitherto I Goodwin re-enters, followed by Francis, and
have been known on board by no other name several sailors carrying goods and chests from than that of Lewson. the wreck.
Fran. 'Tis true, sir; and, I think, 'twill be adGood. This way, my friends, this way! there's viseable to continue the disguise as long as you stowage enough within for all your goods. can. As for the old captain, from the life he al.
Fran. Come, bear a hand, my brave lads, ways leads on shore, and his impatience to get there's no time to lose; follow that honest man, on board again, I think, 'uis very possible an inand set down your chests where he directs you. terview between him and your brother may be
Sai. Troth, I care not how soon I'm quit of prevented. mine; 'tis plaguy heavy.
[Ereunt. " Bel. jun. I think so, too. Go then, Francis,
and conduct the old gentleman hither; I see VioSCENE I.—Continues.
[Erit Fras. Sure there is something in that woman's story Enter other Sailors.
uncommonly mysterious—of English parents 1st Sai. Here's a pretty spot of work! plague born in Lisbon-her family and fortune buried on't, what a night has this been ! I thought this in the earthquake-so much she freely tells; but damned lee-shore would catch us at last.
more, I am convinced, remains untold, and of a 2d Sai. Why, 'twas impossible to claw her off; melancholy sort : she has once or twice, as I
thought, seemed disposed to unbosom herself to Is this the way you reconcile me to your nation? me; but it is so painful to be told of sorrows one Are these the friends of human kind? Why don't has not power to relieve, that I have hithertowe fly from this ungenerous, this ungrateful counavoided the discourse.
Bel. jun. Hold, madam! one villain, however Enter V10LETTA.
base, can no more involve a whole nation in his Bel. jun. Well, madam, melancholy still? still crimes, than one example, however dignified, that face of sorrow and despair? twice ship- can inspire it with his virtues : thank Heaven, the wrecked, and twice rescued from the jaws of worthless owner of that mansion is vet without a death, do you regret your preservation and rival. have I incurred your displeasure, by prolonging Vio. You have twice directed my attention to your existence?
that house; 'tis a lovely spot; what pity that so Vio. Not so, Mr Lewson; such ingratitude be delicious a retireinent should be inade the resifar from me. Can I forget, when the vessel, in dence of so undeserving a being! which I had sailed from Portugal, foundered by Bel. jun. It is, indeed, a charming place, and your side, with what noble, what benevolent ar was once the seat of hospitality and honour; but, dour, you few to my assistance? Regardful only its present possessor, Andrew Belfield- Maof my safety, your own seemed no part of your dam, for Heaven's sake, what ails you ? you seeni care.
suddenly disordered— Have I said Bel. jun. Oh! no more of this; the preserva-| Vio. No, 'tis nothing; don't regard me, Mr tion of a fellow-creature is as natural as self-de-Lewson. I am weak, and subject to these surfence. You now, for the first time in your life, prizes; I shall be glad, however, to retire. breathe the air of England—a rough reception it Bel. jun. A little repose, I hope, will relieve has given you; but be not, therefore, discoura- you ; within this but, some accommodation may ged; our hearts, Violetta, are more accessible be found : lean on my arm. than our shores; nor can you find inhospitality in
[Leads her to the door of the cabin. Britain, save in our climate only. Vio. These characteristics of the English may
Enter Goodwin. he just. I take my estinate from a less favoura Good. Heaven defend me! do my eyes deble example
ceive me? 'tis wondrous like his shape, his air, Bel. jun. Villainy, madam, is the growth of his look every soul; nor can I, while yonder habitation is Bel. jun. What is your astonishment, friend? in my view, forget, that England has given birth Do you know me? If it was not for that habit, I to monsters that disgrace humanity; but this I should say your name is Goodwin. will say for iny countrymen, that, where you can Good. ''Tis he! he is alive! my dear young point out one rascal with a heart to wrong you, 1 master, Mr Belfield ! Yes, sir, my name is Goodwill produce fifty honest fellows ready and reso-win: however changed my appearance, my heart lute to redress you.
is still the same, and overflows with joy at this Vio. Ah !-But on what part of the English | unexpected meeting. coast is it that we are landed?
Bel. jun. Give me thy hand, my old, my boBel. jun. On the coast of Cornwall.
| nest friend; and is this sorry hole thy habitaVio. Of Cornwall is it? You seem to know the tion? owner of that house : are you well acquainted Good. It is. with the country hereabouts ?
Bel. jun. The world, I see, has frowned on Bel, jun. Intimately; it has been the cradle thee since we parted. of my infancy, and, with little interruption, my Good. Yes, sir: but what are my misfortunes? residence ever since.
you must have undergone innumerable hardships; Vio. You are amongst your friends, then, no and now, at last, shipwrecked on your own doubt; how fortunate is it, that you will have coast! Well, but your vessel is not totally lost, their consolation and assistance in your distress. and we will work night and day in saving your Bel. jun. Madain
effects. Vio. Every moment will bring them down to | Bel. jun. Oh, as for that, the sea gave all, let the very shores ; this brave, humane, this hospita- it take back a part; I have enough on shore not ble people, will fock, in crowds, to your relief; to envy my brother his fortune. But there is your friends, Mr Lewson
one blessing, master Goodwin, I own I should Bel. jun. My friends, Violetta! must I con- grudge him the possession of—There was a young fess it to you, I have no friends those rocks, | lady-that have thus scattered my treasures, those waves, Good. What, sir, have not you forgot Miss that have devoured them, to me are not so fatal, Sophia? as bath been that man, whom Nature meant to Bel. jun. Forgot her! my heart trembles while be my nearest friend.
|I ask you, if she is indeed, as you call her, Miss Vio. What, and are you a fellow-sufferer, then? | Sophia.