Count. Sir, I am a dishonoured villain
[Exit.
Lady P. There! There! he tells you himself he is a willin? his conscience flies in his face, and he owns it!
Edmund. [With great ardour and feeling] Madam, he is a noble-hearted gentleman! His agonizing mind deems it villainy to suffer insults so gross.
[Exit.
Re-enter the Count, deep in thought, and much agitated.
Lady P. [Seeing him] Marry my daughter, indeed!—Faugh!
[Exit Lady Peckham.
Count. Into what has my impetuous anger hurried me?—Guilty of falsehood! I? To recede is impossible! What! Stand detected before this city Madam!—whose tongue, itching with the very scrophula of pride, would iterate liar in my ear! No! Falsehood itself is not so foul.’—Act iii.
This is truth and nature. If it should be thought that the description of Lady Peckham borders too much on caricature, it should be remembered that grossness is the essence of the character, and it serves to set off more forcibly the refinement of the Count. If, however, it should be insisted that the scene which has been transcribed is a union of farce and sentimental comedy, still it is farce worthy of Foote, and the serious part is worthy of any one.