Nap. That is the amount of his debt; the bonds and contracts are in Bridgemore's hands.

Mort. You see your money has not slept in Bridgemore's keeping your consignment, Mr. Aubrey, is put to pretty good interest. (Mortimer looks over his papers.)

Nap. Aubrey! Is your name Aubrey, may I ask?
Aub. It is.

Nap. Have you had any dealings with Mr. Bridgemore?
Aub. To my cost.

Nap. Did you consign him merchandise from Scanderoon? Aub. I am the person who was guilty of that folly. Nap. Bridgemore, I believe, thought you were dead. Aub. I take it for granted he would gladly have me so. But do you know any thing of that consignment?

Nap. Eh! Do I know of it? I had better make a friend of him; 'tis up with Bridgemore, fait; there is no senses in serving him any longer. (Aside.) Why, you shall know, sir, I was Bridgemore's broker for your merchandise: here is the abstract of the net proceeds. (Gives a paper to Aubrey.)

Mort. That's lucky, as I live. I see an honest man can never want weapons to defeat a knave. And pray, sir, what might be your profit on this sale: double commission for a breach of trust; that is the rule of the trade, I think?

Nap. I work as others: I do nothing below market price. Mort. You're right, sir, 'twould be starving many an honest family, if you made roguery too cheap but get you gone together to my library; I observe a person coming, who will interrupt you. (Aside.) Harkye! Mr. Aubrey, have an eye to our Jew.

Aub. Trust him to me; I'm pretty well accustomed to their dealings. (Exeunt.)

(Enter a Servant, introducing Bridgemore.)

Serv. Please to walk in here; my master will wait upon you immediately.

Bridge. Nobody here! Harkye, friend, I expected to meet a stranger, a gentleman just landed from Scanderoon. Know you of such an one?

Srev. He is now in the house, and, with Mr. Mortimer, will wait upon you presently. (Exit.)

Bridge. That's well, that's well; as for old Surlyboots, I could well spare his company: 'tis a strange dogged fellow, and execrated by all mankind.

(Enter Mortimer.)

Mort. Mr. Bridgemore, you come here upon a melancholy errand.

Bridge. True, sir; but death, you know, is common to all men: I looked to meet a gentleman here; this is all lost time; I hope to receive information that will reward me for the chari. ty bestowed upon poor Aubrey's unworthy daughter.

Mort. Charity! Hold your audacious tongue : let conscience keep you silent. We are, sir, now alone; and if it needs must be that one of us shall come to shame, 'tis well we are so. It is thought I am a hard, unfeeling man; let it be so ; you shall have justice, notwithstanding: innocence requires no more. You are accused; defend yourself.

Bridge. Accused of what? and who is my accuser?

Mort. A man; and you shall face him like a man. Who waits!(Enter Servant.)—Desire the stranger to come hither. (Exit Servant.) Fear nothing; we're enough to try this question; where the human heart is present, and the appeal is made to heaven, no jury need be summoned. Here is a stranger has the confidence to say, that your pretensions to charity are false; nay, he arraigns your honesty; a charge injurious to any man, but mortal to a trader, and leveled at the vital root of his profession.

Bridge. Ay, 'tis the Turkey merchant, I suppose; let him come in; I know upon what ground I stand, and am afraid of no man living.

Mort. We shall try that. (Aside.) Do you know this gentleman ?

Bridge. Aubrey!
Aub. Thou wretch.
Bridge. He lives!

(Enter Aubrey.)

Aub. To thy confusion.-Raised by the bounty of my family, is this your gratitude? When in the bitterness of my distress, I put an infant daughter in your hands, the last weak scion of a noble stock, was it to rob me, you received her? To plunder and defraud an helpless orphan, as you thought her, and rise upon the ruins of your benefactor's fortune?

Bridge. Oh! I am trepanned. How shall I look my wife and daughter in the face? (Aside.)

Aub. Where have you lodged the money I deposited with you, at parting? I find my daughter destitute. What have you done with the remittances I sent from time to time? But,

above all, where is the produce of the Neptune's cargo? Villain, look here, I have the proofs; this is the abstract of the sale; if you dispute it, I am here provided with a witness, your Jew broker, ready at hand, to attest it to your face.

Bridge. Expose me not; I will refund to the last farthing : I dispute nothing; call him not in.

Mort. There's no occasion for witnesses, when a man pleads guilty. Let him escape, he's detected; let his conscience add the rest.

Aub. It shall be so. There, sir, your pardon be your punishment it was my money only, you attempted; my choicest treasure you have left untouched. Now, go and profit by this meeting I will not expose you; learn of your fraternity, a more honorable practice, and let integrity forever remain the inseparable characteristic of an English merchant. (Exeunt.)

:

XXIX.-FROM THE WEST INDIAN.-Cumberland.

LADY RUSPORT-CHARLOTTE RUSPORT, HER DAUGHTER-IN-LAWCHARLES DUDLEY, NEPHEW TO LADY RUSPORT-MAJOR O'FLAGHERTY, AN IRISH OFFICER-VARLAND, A LAWYER.

Scene 1.-A Room in Lady Rusport's House.

(Enter Lady Rusport and Charlotte.)

Lady Rusport. Miss Rusport, I desire to hear no more of Captain Dudley and his destitute family; not a shilling of mine shall ever cross the hands of any of them. Because my sister chose to marry a beggar, am I bound to support him and his posterity?

Charlotte. I think you are.

L. Rus. You think I am! And pray, where do you find the law that tells you so?

Char. I am not proficient enough to quote chapter and verse; but I take charity to be a main article in the great statute of Christianity.

L. Rus. Charity, indeed! And pray, miss, are you sure that it is charity, pure charity, which moves you to plead for Captain Dudley? Amongst all your pity, do you find no spice of a certain anti-spiritual passion, called love? Don't mistake your. self; your are not saint, child, believe me. And I am apt to

think the distresses of old Dudley and his daughter would never break your heart, if there was not a certain young fellow of two-and-twenty in the case, who, by the happy recommendation of a good person, and the brilliant appointment of an ensign, will, if I am not mistaken, cozen you out of a fortune of twice twenty thousand pounds, when you are of age to bestow it upon him.

Char. A nephew of your ladyship can never want any other recommendation with me; and if my partiality for Charles Dudley is acquitted by the rest of the world, I hope Lady Rusport will not condemn me for it.

L. Rus. I condemn you! I thank heaven, Miss Rusport, I am no ways responsible for your conduct, nor is it any concern of mine how you dispose of yourself; you are not my daughter, and when I married your father, poor Sir Stephen Rusport, I found you a forward, spoiled miss of fourteen, far above being instructed by me.

Char. Perhaps your ladyship calls this instruction.

L. Rus. You are strangely pert. But it is no wonder; your mother, I am told, was a fine lady, and brought you up accordingly. It was not so in my young days; there was then some decorum in the world, some subordination, as the great Locke expresses it. Oh! twas an edifying sight to see the regular deportment observed in our family; no giggling, no gossiping, was going on there. My good father, Sir Oliver Roundhead, never was seen to laugh himself, nor ever allowed it in any of his children.

Char. Aye, those were happy times, indeed!

L. Rus. But in this forward age, we have coquettes in the egg shell, and philosophers in the cradle; girls of fifteen, who lead the fashion in new caps and new opinions, who have their sentiments and their sensations; and the idle fops encourage them in it. O, my conscience, I wonder what it is the men can see in such babies!

Char. True, madam; but all men do not overlook the maturer beauties of your ladyship's age; witness Major O. Flagherty-there's an example of some discernment. I declare to you, when your ladyship is by, the major takes no more notice of me, than if I were a piece of furniture.

L. Rus. The major, child, has traveled through various kingdoms and climates, and has more enlarged notions of female merit, than falls to the lot of an English home-bred lover.

In most other countries, no woman on your side forty, would ever be named in a polite circle.

Char. Right, madam. I've been told that in Vienna they have coquettes upon crutches, and a lover there celebrates the wrinkles, not the dimples, in his mistress' face. The major, I think, has resided there.

L. Rus. Are you piqued, my young madam? Had my sister Louisa yielded to the addresses of one of Maj. O'Flagherty's person and appearance, she would have had some excuse; but to run away as she did, at the age of sixteen too, with a man of old Dudley's sort

Char. Was, in my opinion, the most venial trespass that ever a girl of sixteen committed. Of a noble family, and sound understanding, what accomplishment was there wanting in Captain Dudley, but that of which the prodigality of his ancestors deprived him.

L. Rus. They left him as much as he deserves. Has not the old man a captain's half pay; and is not the son an ensign? (With a sneer.)

Char.

An ensign! Alas, poor Charles! would to heaven he knew how my heart feels and suffers for him.

(Servant enters.)

Servant. Ensign Dudley, to wait upon your ladyship. L. Rus. Who? Dudley? what can have brought him to town?

Char. Dear madam, it is Charles Dudley, your nephew. L. Rus. Nephew! I renounce him as my nephew; Sir Oliver renounced him as a grandson. Wasn't he son of the eldest daughter, and only male descendant of Sir Oliver, and didn't he cut him off with a shilling? Didn't the poor, dear man, leave his whole fortune to me? And depend upon it, not a penny of that fortune shall ever be disposed of otherwise than according to the will of the donor. (Charles Dudley enters.) So, young man, what brings you to town?

Dudley. Business.

L. Rus. Business, indeed! And where is your father, child, and your sister? Are they in town too?

Dud. They are.

L. Rus. Ridiculous. I don't know what people do in London, who have no money to spend in it.

Char. Dear madam, speak more kindly to your nephew ; how can you oppress a youth of his sensibility?

L. Rus. Miss Rusport, I insist upon your retiring to your