PATIOMKIN [carrying Edstaston through the antechamber]. Useless to struggle. Come along, beautiful baby darling. Come to Little Mother. [He sings.] March him baby, Baby, baby, Lit-tle ba-by bumpkins. VARINKA [joining in to the same doggerel in canon, a third above]. March him, baby, etc., etc. EDSTASTON [trying to make himself heard]. No, no. This is carrying a joke too far. I must insist. Let me down! Hang it, will you let me down! Confound it! No, no. Stop playing the fool, will you? We don't understand this sort of thing in England. I shall be disgraced. Let me down. CATHERINE [meanwhile]. What a horrible noise! Naryshkin, see what it is. Naryshkin goes to the door. CATHERINE [listening]. That is Prince Patiomkin. NARYSHKIN [calling from the door]. Little Mother, a stranger. Catherine plunges into bed again and covers herself up. Patiomkin, followed by Varinka, carries Edstaston in: dumps him down on the foot of the bed: and staggers past it to the cabinet door. Varinka joins the courtiers at the opposite side of the room. Catherine, blazing with wrath, pushes Edstaston off her bed on to the floor: gets out of bed: and turns on Patiomkin with so terrible an expression that all kneel down hastily except Edstaston, who is sprawling on the carpet in angry confusion. CATHERINE. Patiomkin, how dare you? [Looking at Edstaston.] What is this? PATIOMKIN [on his knees, tearfully]. I don't know. I am drunk. What is this, Varinka? EDSTASTON [scrambling to his feet]. Madam, this drunken ruffian-- PATIOMKIN. Thas true. Drungn ruffian. Took dvantage of my being drunk. Said: take me to Lil angel Mother. Take me to beaufl Empress. Take me to the grea'st woman on earth. Thas whas he he said. I took him. I was wrong. I am not sober. CATHERINE. Men have grown sober in Siberia for less, Prince. PATIOMKIN. Serve em right! Sgusting habit. Ask Varinka. Catherine turns her face from him to the Court. The courtiers see that she is trying not to laugh, and know by experience that she will not succeed. They rise, relieved and grinning. VARINKA. It is true. He drinks like a pig. PATIOMKIN [plaintively]. No: not like pig. Like prince. Lil Mother made poor Patiomkin prince. Whas use being prince if I mayn't drink? CATHERINE [biting her lips]. Go. I am offended. PATIOMKIN. Don't scold, Lil Mother. CATHERINE [imperiously]. Go. PATIOMKIN [rising unsteadily]. Yes: go. Go bye bye. Very sleepy. Berr go bye bye than go Siberia. Go bye bye in Lil Mother's bed [he pretends to make an attempt to get into the bed]. CATHERINE [energetically pulling him back]. No, no! Patiomkin! What are you thinking of? [He falls like a log on the floor, apparently dead drunk.] THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF. Scandalous! An insult to your Imperial Majesty!