_Old Bar._ Keep my place, and so you are Peter Etheridge, are you?
_Old Bar._ Well, but I don't. I only know you as my foolish son, Peter Bargrove, and so long as you are so supposed to be, I shall not permit you to insult your mother. So, Mr Peter, I'll just take the liberty of giving you a little wholesome chastisement, which I hope may prove beneficial.
[_Old Bargrove beats Peter round the room, while Mrs Bargrove tries to prevent him._
_Peter._ I'll tell my mother, Lady Etheridge! that I will. I'll go directly.
[_Peter runs off. Mr and Mrs Bargrove sit down. Mrs Bargrove sobbing._
_Enter Lucy, in her bonnet, from walking._
_Lucy._ Good Heavens, father, what was all that noise? Mother, why, what _is_ the matter?
_Old Bar._ Matter enough; here's your brother Peter gone out of his senses. But I have rubbed him well down with this cudgel.
_Mrs Bar._ (_crying_). He's mad, Lucy, quite mad! Called me an infamous old woman, and said that I changed him at nurse. He will have it, that he is Peter Etheridge.
_Lucy_ (_confounded_). Good heavens! how strange! (_Aside_) I hardly know what to think. That gipsy's knowledge--and now my brother--where could he have obtained similar information?--yet it cannot be, she is too good a woman.
_Old Bar._ Did you ever hear of such conduct?
_Lucy._ He must have been told so, or he never would have been so violent.
_Old Bar._ So violent! who could have told him such a falsehood? or who would have believed it for a moment, but a fool like him?
_Mrs Bar._ How could he have known anything about Nelly Armstrong?
_Lucy._ Nelly Armstrong! Did he mention her name?
_Mrs Bar._ Yes; he asked me where she was, and says, that she was my accomplice.
_Old Bar._ Lucy, why don't you comfort your mother? One would think you were leagued with Peter.
_Old Bar._ Yes, you--you are not yourself. Pray have you heard anything of this before? (_Lucy silent._) Answer me, girl, I say, have you before heard anything of this?
_Lucy._ From a strange quarter, and most strangely told. I am not well, father. [_Lucy bursts into tears, and Exit._
_Old Bar._ (_after a pause, looking his wife earnestly in the face_). Why, Dame Bargrove, how is this? Lucy is not a fool, and she is evidently of the same opinion as Peter. (_Walks up and down the room, and betrays much agitation._) Dame, dame, if, for foolish love of thine own children, and I see that thou lovest the other two, as well, if not better than, these--if, I say, thou hast done this great wrong, down on thy knees, and confess it! Guilt can never prosper, and reparation must be made.