l the worse for you.

_Lady Eth._ How, sir?

_Peter._ Yes, my lady, I think you'll treat me with more respect very
soon.

_Lady Eth._ I shall order the servants to show you the door very soon.

_Peter._ If you do, my lady, I sha'n't go out of it.

_Lady Eth._ Insolent fellow, leave the room directly.

_Peter._ No, can't, upon my honour. (_Aside._) How she'll beg my pardon
for all this by-and-bye! It's really very pleasant. (_Aloud._) I come,
my lady, to communicate most important intelligence, but I want to break
it to you carefully, lest you should be too much overcome with joy.
Prepare yourself, my lady, for astounding news. You have a son!

_Lady Eth._ (_Aside._) The fellow's mad. (_Aloud._) Well, sir, what's
that to you?

_Peter._ A great deal, my lady; you don't know him.

_Lady Eth._ What does the fool mean?

_Peter._ No, my lady, you don't know him. Him whom you suppose to be
your son--is--not your son.

_Lady Eth._ (_Startled._) Indeed!

_Peter._ Yes, my lady, but your son is not far off.

_Lady Eth._ Are you deranged?

_Peter._ No; quite sensible--hear me out. Dame Bargrove nursed that son.

_Lady Eth._ Well, sir!

_Peter._ And, Lady Etheridge, we have proof positive, that the wicked
woman changed him.

_Lady Eth._ (_screaming._) Changed him!

_Peter._ Yes, changed him for her own. Edward Etheridge is Edward
Bargrove, and Peter Bargrove Peter Etheridge. My dear, dear mother!
(_Runs into her arms and kisses her repeatedly, notwithstanding her
endeavours to prevent him._)

_Lady Eth._ (_screaming._) Oh! oh!

[_Peter leads her to a chair, and she goes into hysterics._

_Peter._ How very affecting.

_Enter Sir Gilbert._

_Adm._ What's all this! Is Lady Etheridge ill?

_Peter._ A little overcome with joy, Sir Gilbert. It will be your turn
next.

_Adm._ (_Going to Lady Etheridge, who recovers._) What's the matter, my
love?

_Lady Eth._ (_spitting_). O the wretch--the brute! He has taken
liberties!

_Adm._ Taken liberties, the scoundrel! Pray, sir, what liberties have
you taken with Lady Etheridge?

_Peter._ I only smothered her with kisses.

_Adm._ What do you mean, sir? Are you mad? Smothering her with kisses!

_Peter._ (_smiling_). I certainly did assume that privilege, Sir
Gilbert.

_Adm._ Did you, you rascal? then I'll just assume another. (_Thrashes
Peter round the room._)

_Peter._ My father! O my honoured parent! Oh! your own son! Oh, your
affectionate----