lkeley! Clarence! go
for a doctor--go to Doctor Straitwaist at the Asylum--Horace Milliken,
who has married the descendant of the Kickleburys of the Conqueror,
marry a dancing-girl off the stage! Horace Milliken! do you wish to
see me die in convulsions at your feet? I writhe there, I grovel there.
Look! look at me on my knees! your own mother-in-law! drive away this
fiend!

MILLIKEN.--Hem! I ought to thank you, Lady Kicklebury, for it is you
that have given her to me.

LADY K.--He won't listen! he turns away and kisses her horrible hand.
This will never do: help me up, Clarence, I must go and fetch his
mother. Ah, ah! there she is, there she is! [Lady K. rushes out, as the
top of a barouche, with Mr. and Mrs. BONNINGTON and Coachman, is seen
over the gate.]

MRS. B.--What is this I hear, my son, my son? You are going to marry
a--a stage-dancer? you are driving me mad, Horace!

MILLIKEN.--Give me my second chance, mother, to be happy. You have had
yourself two chances.

MRS. B.--Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. [BONNINGTON makes dumb show.]

LADY K.--Implore him, Mr. Bonnington.

MRS. B.--Pray, pray for him, Mr. Bonnington, my love--my lost, abandoned
boy!

LADY K.--Oh, my poor dear Mrs. Bonnington!

MRS. B.--Oh, my poor dear Lady Kicklebury. [They embrace each other.]

LADY K.--I have been down on my knees to him, dearest Mrs. Bonnington.

MRS. B.--Let us both--both go down on our knees--I WILL [to her
husband]. Edward, I will! [Both ladies on their knees. BONNINGTON with
outstretched hands behind them.] Look, unhappy boy! look, Horace! two
mothers on their wretched knees before you, imploring you to send away
this monster! Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. Edward! use authority with
him, if he will not listen to his mother--

LADY K.--To his mothers!

Enter TOUCHIT.

TOUCHIT.--What is this comedy going on, ladies and gentlemen? The ladies
on their elderly knees--Miss Prior with her hair down her back. Is it
tragedy or comedy--is it a rehearsal for a charade, or are we acting
for Horace's birthday? or, oh!--I beg your Reverence's pardon--you were
perhaps going to a professional duty?

MR. B.--It's WE who are praying this child, Touchit. This child, with
whom you used to come home from Westminster when you were boys. You
have influence with him; he listens to you. Entreat him to pause in his
madness.

TOUCHIT.--What madness?

MRS. B.--That--that woman--that serpent yonder--that--that
dancing-woman, whom