Lady P. Do you know who Miss Loocy Peckham is, Sir?
Count. Not very well, Ma’am.
Lady P. Sir?
Count. Except that she is your daughter.
Lady P. And do you know who I am, Sir?
Count. I have been told, Ma’am.
Lady P. Told, Sir! Told! Vhat have you been told? Vhat have you been told, Sir?
Count. That your ladyship was an honest wax-chandler’s daughter.
Lady P. Yes, Sir! The debbidy of his vard, Sir! A common councilman, and city sword-bearer! Had an Aldermand’s gownd von year, vus chosen sheriff the next, and died a lord-mayor elect!
Count. With all his honours blooming on his brow!