name--that causes doubt--
Then, his surprize, which seem'd so unaffected,
With his most firm behaviour, so unlike
The consciousness of guilt, when in his presence
They were discover'd there, favour him much.
Wherefore, till this affair be further canvass'd
I wou'd not fend him to a public prison. [He walks to and fro.]

JEFFERSON. I shall obey.--He never judg'd more justly. [Aside,
as he goes off.]

Enter a Servant, with a letter to Mr. ANDREWS, which he reads.

ANDREWS. The Speedwell cast away! a heavy loss!
Ills upon Ills in train pursue each other.
Heard you of this before?

JEFFERSON. Such rumour was
On the Exchange to-day, but not with certainty.

ANDREWS. However she's insur'd, and highly too.
Go fetch the policy, I wish to see it.
Or rather wait me in the compting-house.

JEFFERSON. [As he goes off] O heav'n! I gave the money to his
wife. [Exit.]

ANDREWS. He seem'd confus'd, and mutter'd to himself;
My fears anticipate some dread event.
But what of this? shou'd it be heav'n's high will,
That the remorseless billows should ingulf
The remnant of my wealth; yet this--all this,
I cou'd with patient resignation bear,
And toil with pleasure for an honest pittance.
But oh! to lose that precious, treasur'd gem,
Which my whole soul engross'd--to see another,
In my disgrace exult--yet more--yet more--
My children--oh my children--must ye suffer!
Away all thoughts of peace henceforth for ever. [Goes off.]

Scene VI.

Lord WESTON's apartments.

Lord BELMOUR and Lord WESTON.

Lord BELMOUR. Well, nephew, have you yet consider'd better
Of your love-frolick for the merchant's daughter?
You may meet numbers through this spacious city
With wealth superior far to her possessions;
Nor need you languish for their hearts a moment.

Lord WESTON. The common light shines not more unreserv'd;
Their very charms fatigue the public eye.
But, sir, my spirit scorns an easy conquest.

Lord BELMOUR. Fine founding words, yet answer not my question.
You too much from the world seclude yourself;
Which serves to add fresh fuel to the flame.
Long have I been, as I may say, your parent,
And have at present in my thoughts for you,
A wife well suited to your ra