_Count._ Madam, though scurril—[_Recollecting himself_] I say, Madam, though such vul—, such accusations are beneath all answer, yet I must tell you that by marrying your daughter, if after this I should sink myself so low—I say, by marrying your daughter, Madam, I should confer an honour on your family, as much superior to its expectations, as the splendour of the glorious sun is to the twinkling of the worthless glow-worm! _Lady P._ Vhat! Vhat! [_Enter Edmund, son of Lady Peckham._] Marry come up! An Irish French foriner! Not so good as von of our parish _porpers_! And you! You purtend to compare yourself to the united houses of the Peckhams and the Pringles! Your family indeed! Yourn! Vhere’s your settlement? Yourn! Vus’nt my great uncle, Mr Peter Pringle, the cheese-monger of Cateaton-street, a major in the Train Bands before you vus born, or thought of? _Edmund_ [_Aside._] So, so! I’m too late! [_Aloud_] Let me intreat your ladyship— _Lady P._ Vhat! Hasn’t I an ownd sister at this day married to Mr Poladore Spraggs, the tip-toppest hot-presser in all Crutched Friars! Isn’t my maiden aunt, Miss Angelica Pringle, vorth thirty thousand pounds, in the South Sea funds, every morning she rises! And doesn’t I myself get up and go to bed, the greatest lady in this here city! And for to purtend for to talk to me of his family! His’n. _Edmund._ The Count, Madam, is a man of the first distinction in his native country! _Lady P._ Vhat country is that, Sir? Who ever heard of any country but England? A Count among beggars! How much is his Countship worth? _Count._ I had determined to be silent, Madam, but I find it impossible! [_With vehement volubility_] And I must inform you, my family is as ancient, as exalted, and as renowned, as you have proved yours to be—what I shall not repeat! That I am the heir to more rich acres than I believe your Ladyship ever rode over! That my father’s vassals are more numerous than your Ladyship’s vaunted guineas! That the magnificence in which he has lived, looked with contempt on the petty, paltry strainings of a trader’s pride! And that in his hall are daily fed—[_Stops short, and betrays a consciousness of inadvertent falsehood, but suddenly continues with increasing vehemence_] Yes, Madam, are daily fed; now, at this moment, Madam, more faithful adherents, with their menials and followers, than all your boasted wealth could for a single year supply! _Edmund._ _Are?_ At this moment, say you, Count? _Count._ Sir, I—I have said. _Edmund._ I know you to be a man of honour, and that you cannot say what is not. _Count._ I—I—I have said, Sir! [_Walking with great perturbation._] _Lady P._ You have said more in a minute than you can prove in a year! _Edmund._ I will pledge my word for the Count’s veracity. _Count._ [_Aside_] What have I done! [_With agony_] A lie! _Lady P._ As for you, Sir, I doesn’t believe von vord you say! I knows the tricks of such sham chevaliers as you, too vell!