ACT II.SCENE.—A large roughly furnished Garret. Easel with Woffington’s Picture on it, half concealed by a green baize Drapery. Colours, Palette, Pencils, Maulstick, &c. &c. Mrs. Triplet reclining in a large chair, and wrapped up like an invalid. Violin hanging against wall. Triplet seated at small Table writing. Two Children. Wooden Chairs. Boy is rocking Cradle and singing.TRIP. Do keep those children quiet, Jane.MRS. T. Hush, my dears, let your father write his comedy. Comedy seems so troublesome to write.TRIP. Yes! somehow sorrow comes more natural to me! (pause) I’ve got a bright thought; you see, Jane, they are all at a sumptuous banquet: all the Dramatis Personæ except the poet, (writes) music—sparkling wine—massive plate—soups—fish—shall I have three dishes of fish? venison—game—pickles and provocatives in the centre, then up jumps one of the guests, and says he—BOY. Oh, dear! I am so hungry!GIRL. And so am I.TRIP. That is an absurd remark, Lysimachus, not four hours after breakfast.BOY. But father—there wasn’t any breakfast for breakfast!TRIP. Now I ask you, Mrs. Triplet—how am I to write comic scenes, if you let Lysimachus and Roxalana there put the heavy business in every five minutes?MRS. T. Forgive them, the poor thingsarehungry!TRIP. Then they must learn to be hungry in another room. They shan’t cling round my pen and paralyze it, just when it is going to make all our fortunes (rises); but you women have no consideration—send ’em all to bed, every man Jack of ’em (children raise a doleful cry). Hungry! hungry! Is that a proper expression to use before a father who is sitting down (seats himself), all gaiety—and hilarity to write a Com— a Com— (chokes)? Where’s the youngest—where’s Cleopatra? (Mrs. T. brings child to him—he takes her on his knee.)GIRL. Father, I’m not so very hungry!BOY(who has come to his Father). And I’m not hungry at all—I had a piece of bread and butter yesterday!TRIP. Wife; they’ll drive me mad!BOY(sotto voce). Mother; father made us hungry out of his book.GIRL. Is it a cookery book, father?TRIP. Ha! ha! is my comedy a cookery book?The young rogues say more good things than I do—that is the worst of it. Wife, I took that sermon I wrote—MRS. T. And beautiful it was, James.TRIP. I took it to the Reverend Gentleman, and he would not have it, he said it was too hard upon sin for the present day (dashes at the paper). Ah! if my friend Mrs. Woffington would but leave this stupid comedy and take to tragedy, things would smile again.MRS. T. Oh, James, how can you expect anything from that woman? You won’t believe what all the world says—you measure folk by your own good heart.TRIP. I haven’t a good heart, I spoke like a brute to you just now.MRS. T. Never mind, James, I wonder how you put up with me at all! a sick useless creature. I often wish to die, for your sake—I know you would do better—I am such a weight round your neck. (Triplet takes Mrs. T. to chair—then returns with energy to his comedy—boy brings violin.)BOY. Play us a tune on the fiddle, father!MRS. T. Ay do, husband! that often helps you in your writing. (Triplet plays a merry tune dolefully.)TRIP. It won’t do, music must be in the heart, or it will never come out of the fingers (puts fiddle down—boy takes it and puts it in the cradle). No! let us be serious and finish the comedy—perhaps it hitches because I forgot to invoke Thalia—the Muse of Comedy, Mrs. Triplet; she must be a black-hearted jade if she won’t lend a broad grinto a poor devil starving in the middle of his hungry little ones.MRS. T. Heathen goddesses can’t help us. We had better pray to heaven to look down on us and our children.TRIP. (sullenly). You forget, Mrs. Triplet, that our street is very narrow, and the opposite houses are very high.MRS. T. James!TRIP. How can heaven see an honest man and his family in such an out-of-the-way place as this.MRS. T. Oh! what words are these?TRIP. Have we given honesty a fair trial? yes or no (walking in great agitation)!MRS. T. No, not till we die as we have lived.TRIP. Isupposeheaven is just, I can’tknowit, till it sends me an angel to take my children’s part; they cry to me for bread, I have nothing to give them but hard words. God knows it has taken a great deal to break my heart, but it is broken at last, broken—broken—(he sobs with head on his hands on table).[Enter Woffington speaking,L.D.]WOFF. Wasn’t somebody inquiring after an angel? Here I am!TRIP. Mrs. Woffington![Woff. seeing Triplet’s distress, retreats; but presently comes back.]WOFF. See (shows him letter). “Madam, you are an angel;” from a gentleman, a perfect stranger to me, so it must be correct (enter Pompey with a basket). Ah! here is another angel! there are two sorts youknow, angels of light and angels of darkness (takes basket from Pompey). Lucifer, avaunt! (in a terrible tone) and wait outside the door (in a familiar tone. Exit Pompey). (Aside.They are in sore distress, poor things!) I am sorry you are ill, Mrs. Triplet! I have brought you some physic—black draught from Burgundy (Mrs. Triplet attempts to rise but sinks back again). Don’t move, I insist!TRIP. Oh, Mrs. Woffington, had I dreamed you would deign to come here,—WOFF. You would have taken care to be out. (Aside.Their faces look pinched, I know what that means.) Mrs. Triplet, I have come to give your husband a sitting for my portrait, will you allow me to eat my little luncheon in your room? I am so hungry. Pompey! (Pompey runs in) run to the corner and buy me that pie I took such a fancy to as we came along (gives money to Pompey. Exit Pompey2E.L.).BOY. Mother, will the lady give me a bit of her pie?MRS. T. Hush, you rude boy!WOFF. She is not much of a lady if she doesn’t! Now children, we’ll first look at father’s comedy. Nineteen dramatis personæ,—cut out seven. Don’t bring your armies intoourdrawing-rooms, Mr. Dagger and Bowl: can you marshal battalions on a Turkey carpet, and make gentlefolks witty in platoons? What’s here in the first act? A duel! and both wounded—you butcher!TRIP. (deprecatingly). They are not to die, they shan’t die, upon my honour!WOFF. Do you think I’ll trust their lives withyou? I’ll show you how to run people through the body (takes pen, writes). Business, “Araminta looks out of garret window, the combatants drop their swords, put their hands to their hearts, and stagger off,O.P. andP.S.” Now children! who helps me lay the cloth?CHIL. I, and I! (they run to dresser.)MRS. T. (half rising). Madam, I can’t think of allowing you.WOFF. Sit down ma’am, or I must use brute force (in Mrs. T’s ear): shake hands with distress, for it shall never enter your door again.[Mrs. T. clasps her hands.(Woff. meets the children with the tablecloth, which she lays.) Twelve plates, quick! twenty-four knives, quicker! forty-eight forks, quickest.[Enter Pompey, who sets pie on table, and exit, looking wistfully at it.]Mr. Triplet,—your coat, if you please,—and carve.TRIP. My coat, madam!WOFF. Yes; off with it, there’s a hole in it (Triplet, with signs of astonishment, gives her his coat, then carves pie: they eat. Woff. seats herself). Be pleased to cast your eye on that, ma’am (boy passes housewife to Mrs. Triplet). Woffington’s housewife, made by herself, homely to the eye, but holds everything in the world, and has a small space left for everything else; to be returned by the bearer. Thank you, sir! (stitches away very rapidly) Eat away; children, when once I begin the pie will soon end; (girl takes plate to her mother), I do everything so quick.GIRL. The lady sews faster than you, mother.WOFF. Bless the child, don’t come near my sword-arm, the needle will go into your eye, and out at the back of your head (children laugh). The needle will be lost, the child will be no more, enter undertaker, house turned topsyturvy, father shows Woffington the door, off she goes, with a face as long and as dull as papa’s comedy, crying, “Fine Chaney o-ran-ges!”[The children laugh heartily.GIRL. Mother! the lady is very funny!WOFF. You’ll be as funny when you’re as well paid for it.[Triplet chokes with laughing, and lays down knife and fork.]MRS. T. James, take care!WOFF. There’s the man’s coat, (aside) with a ten pound note in it.[Girl takes it to Triplet.TRIP. My wife is a good woman, ma’am, but deficient in an important particular.MRS. T. Oh, James!TRIP. Yes, my dear, I regret to say you haveno sense of humour:no more than a cat, Jane.WOFF. What! because the poor thing can’t laugh at your comedy?TRIP. No ma’am, but she laughs at nothing.WOFF. Try her with one of your tragedies!MRS. T. I am sure, James, if I don’t laugh, it is not for the want of the will. (Dolefully) I used to be a very hearty laugher; but I haven’t laughed this two years (Woffington leads Mrs. T. to chair).WOFF. Oh, you haven’t, haven’t you? Then the next two years you shall do nothing else.TRIP. Oh, madam, that passes the talent even of the great comedian.BOY.Sheis not a comedy lady.WOFF. Hallo!BOY. You don’t ever cry, pretty lady.WOFF. (ironically). Of course not.BOY(confidentially). Comedy is crying. Father cries all the time he writes his comedy.WOFF. Oh!TRIP. Hold your tongue. They were tears of laughter, you know, ma’am. Wife, our children talk too much; they thrust their noses into everything, and criticise their own father.WOFF. Unnatural offspring!TRIP. And when they take up a notion, the devil himself couldn’t convince them to the contrary; for instance, all this morning they thought fit to assume that they were starving.BOY. So we were till the angel came, and the devil went for the pie.TRIP. There, there, there, there! now, you mark my words, Jane, we shall never get that idea out of their heads——WOFF. Till we (cuts a large piece of pie, and puts on child’s plate) put a different idea into their stomachs. Come,trinquons!as they do in France (fills glasses, and touches hers with those of the children, who crowd round her with delight). Were you ever in France, Triplet?TRIP. No, madam, I am thoroughly original.WOFF. That’s true. Well, I went there once to learn tragedy of the great Dumesnil (recites a coupleof lines of tragedy à la Française). But Peg Woffington was never meant to walk the stage on stilts;—no, let Mrs. Pritchard pledge Melpomene in her own poison-bowl, I’ll give you Thalia in a bumper of Burgundy. Come, drink to your new mistress, Triplet (fills her glass). Mrs. Triplet (she rises, bottle and glass in hand), I must prescribe for you too. A wine glassful of thiselixirsix times a day till further notice. Success to your husband’s comedy! What’s this? (Sees fiddle in cradle). A fiddle, as I’m an ex-orange wench! (Giving it to Triplet.) Here, Triplet, a jig—a jig. (Triplet takes fiddle.) Peggy has not forgotten how to cover the buckle. Come, young ones—(Triplet plays. She dances a jig with the children)—more power to your elbow, man—shake it, ye sowl! Hurroo! (She dances up to Triplet, who, in his excitement, rises and joins in the jig, while Mrs. Triplet follows their movements with her body.) But come, Mr. Triplet, you really shan’t make me play the fool any longer. Business!—my picture is to be finished. Mrs. Triplet, we must clear the studio:—take your cherubs into the bed-room.MRS. T. (seizes her hand). Oh, madam! may the blessings of a mother watch over you in life and after it, and the blessings of these innocents too!WOFF. Pooh! pooh! let me kiss the brats (kisses them). (Aside.Poor things!)BOY. I shall pray for you after father and mother.GIRL. I shall pray for you after daily bread, because we were so hungry till you came.WOFF. (putting them off). There, there. Exeunt mother and cherubs. Music for the exit, Trippy—themerriest you can extort from that veteran Stradivarius of yours. (Aside.Heaven knows I’ve as much need of merry music as the saddest of them) (sees Triplet overcome). Why, how now? If there isn’t this kind-hearted, soft-headed, old booby of a Triplet making a picture of himself in water colours. (Goes up to him—taps him on the arm). Come! to work—to work, and with a will, for I have invited Cibber, and Quin, and Clive, and Snarl, Soaper and all, to see the portrait, which is to make your fortune and hand me down to posterity not half as handsome as nature made me. There (sits), I must put on my most bewitching smile of course. (Aside) Oh, dear! how it belies my poor aching heart.[Triplet, during this, has got his palette and pencil, set his easel, and begun to work, while Woffington sits.]Well, are you satisfied with it?TRIP. Anything but, madam (paints).WOFF. Cheerful soul! then I presume it is like.TRIP. Not a bit. (Woffington stretches.) You must not yawn, ma’am—you must not yawn just now!WOFF. Oh, yes, I must, if you will be so stupid.TRIP. I was just about to catch the turn of the lip.WOFF. Well, catch it, it won’t run away.TRIP. A pleasant half-hour it will be for me, when all your friends come here, like cits at a shilling ordinary, each for his cut. Head a little more that way. (Sadly) I suppose you can’t sit quiet, Madam; then never mind. Look on this picture and on that!WOFF. Meaning, that I am painted as well as my picture.TRIP. Oh, no, no, no! but to turn from your face, on which the lightning of expression plays continually, to this stony, detestable, dead daub: I could—(seizes palette-knife)—miserable mockery! vile caricature of life and beauty! take that! (dashes the knife through picture.)WOFF. Oh! right through my pet dimple! Hark! I hear the sound of coaches—the hour of critique approaches!TRIP. Two coach loads of criticism, and the picture ruined!WOFF. (reflecting). I’ll give you a lesson—your palette-knife (cuts away face of the picture).TRIP. There will be Mr. Cibber with his sneering snuff-box; Mr. Quin with his humourous bludgeon; Mrs. Clive with her tongue; Mr. Snarl with his abuse; and Mr. Soaper with his praise!—but I deserve it all!WOFF. That green baize—(gets behind easel)—fling it over the easel—so; and now (shewing her face through the picture) you shall criticise criticism, and learn the true weight of goose’s feathers.(Triplet throws the baize over the picture.)[Enter Cibber, Clive, Quin, Snarl, and Soaper. Triplet bows humbly. They return his salute carelessly.]CIB. Ough! Four pair of stairs!QUIN. Well, where’s the picture? (crossing toR.H.with Clive.)(They take up positions to look at it.)TRIP. Mrs. Woffington, gentlemen!(Triplet removes the baize and suppresses a start.)SOAP. Ah!SNARL. Umph!QUIN. Ho!CLIVE. Eh?CIB. Ah!QUIN. Whose portrait did you say?CLIVE. He, he! Peg Woffington’s—it’s a pretty head enough, and not a bit like Woffington.QUIN. Nay—compare paint with paint, Kitty—who ever saw Woffington’s real face?SOAP. Now, I call it beautiful; so smooth, polished, and uniform.SNARL. Whereas nature delights in irregular and finely graduated surfaces. Your brush is not destitute of a certain crude talent, Mr. Triplet, but you are deficient in the great principles of Art; the first of which is a loyal adherence to truth; beauty itself is but one of the forms of truth, and nature is our finite exponent of infinite truth.SOAP. What wonderful criticism! One quite loses oneself among such grand words!CIB. Yes, yes! proceed Mr. Snarl. I am of your mind.SNARL. Now in nature, a woman’s face at this distance, has a softness of outline—(draws back and makes a lorgnette of his two hands, the others do the same), whereas your work is hard and tea-boardy.SOAP. Well it is aleetle tea-boardy, perhaps. But the light and shade, Mr. Snarl—! the—what-d’ye-call—the—um—you know—eh?SNARL. Ah! you mean the chiaroscuro.SOAP. Exactly!SNARL. The chiaroscuro is all wrong. In nature,the nose, intercepting the light on one side the face, throws a shadow under the eye. Caravaggio, the Venetians, and the Bolognese, do particular justice to this—no such shade appears in your portrait.CIB. ’Tis so—stap my vitals!(All express assent except Soaper.)SOAP. But, my dear Mr. Snarl, if there are no shades, there are lights—loads of lights.SNARL. There are, only they are impossible (superciliously). You have, however, succeeded tolerably in the mechanical parts—the dress, for example; but your Woffington is not a woman, Sir—nor nature!(All shake their heads in assent.)WOFF. (C.) Woman! for she has tricked four men; nature! for a fluent dunce does not know her when he sees her!CIB. Why—what the deuce?CLIVE. Woffington!QUIN. Pheugh!WOFF. (steps out of picture). A pretty face, and not like Woffington! I owe you two, Kitty Clive.(Mrs. Clive bridles.)(to Quin). Who ever saw Peggy’s real face? Look at it now if you can without blushing.ALL(except Snarl). Ha! ha!SNARL. For all this, I maintain on the unalterable rules of art——ALL. Ha! ha! ha!SNARL(fiercely). Goths! (Quin and Cibber turn up stage laughing). Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!CIB. Good morning, Mr. Snarl!SNARL. I have a criticism to write of last night’sperformance. I shall sit on your pictures one day, Mr. Brush.TRIP. (crosses to Snarl). Pictures are not eggs, Sir—they are not meant to be sat upon.SNARL. Come, Soaper![Exit.SOAP. You shall always have my good word, Mr. Triplet.TRIP. I will try and not deserve it, Mr. Soaper!SOAP. At your service, Mr. Snarl![Exit.CIB. Serve ’em right—a couple of serpents! or rather one boa-constrictor—Soaper slavers, for Snarl to crush (crosses toL.). But we were all too hard on poor Trip: and if he will accept my apology——TRIP. Thank you! “Colley Cibber’s Apology” can be got at any book-stall.CIB. Confound his impertinence! Come along, Jemmy!QUIN. If ever you paint my portrait——TRIP. The bear from Hockley Hole shall sit for the head.QUIN. Curse his impudence! Have with you, Mr. Cibber.[Exeunt Cibber and Quin,L.D.CLIVE. I did intend to have my face painted, sir, but after this——TRIP. You will continue to do it yourself!CLIVE. Brute![Exit in a rage,L.D.TRIP. Did I show a spirit, or did I not, ma’am?WOFF. Tremendous!TRIP. Did you mark the shot I fired into each as he sheered off?WOFF. Terrific!TRIP. I defy them! the coxcombs! as for realcriticism, I invite it. Yours for instance, or that sweet lady’s I met at Mr. Vane’s, or anybody that appreciates one’s beauties. By-the-bye, you were not at Mr. Vane’s yesterday?WOFF. Yes, I was!TRIP. No! I came with my verses, but she said you were not there.WOFF. Who said so?TRIP. The charming young lady who helped me with her own hand to nectar and ambrosia.WOFF. A young lady?TRIP. About twenty-two.WOFF. In a travelling dress?TRIP. Yes—brown hair—blue eyes! I poured out all to her;—that I expected to find you; that Mr. Vane admired you; and that you were sitting to me for your portrait; that I lived at 10, Hercules Buildings, and should be proud to show her the picture for her judgment.WOFF. You told her all this?TRIP. I did. Do you know her?WOFF. Yes.TRIP. Who is she?WOFF. Mrs. Vane.TRIP. Mrs. Vane! Mr. Vane’s mother? No—no! that can’t be!WOFF. Mr. Vane’s wife!TRIP. Wife?WOFF. Yes.TRIP. Then she wasn’t to know you were there?WOFF. No.TRIP. Then I let the cat out of the bag?WOFF. Yes.TRIP. And played the devil with their married happiness?WOFF. Probably. (turns her back on him).TRIP. Just my luck! Oh! Lord, Lord! To see what these fine gentlemen are! to have a lawful wife at home, and then to come and fall in love with you!Ido it for ever in my plays, it is all right there!—but in real life it is abominable!WOFF. You forget, sir, that I am an actress!—a plaything for every profligate who can find the open sesame of the stage-door. Fool! to think there was an honest man in the world, and that he had shone on me!TRIP. Mrs. Woffington!WOFF. But what have we to do (walks agitated) with homes, and hearths, and firesides? Have we not the theatre, its triumphs, and full-handed thunders of applause? Who looks for hearts beneath the masks we wear? These men applaud us, cajole us, swear to us, lie to us, and yet, forsooth, we would have them respect us too.TRIP. (fiercely). They shall respect you before James Triplet. A great genius like you, so high above them all!—my benefactress (whimpers).WOFF. (taking his hand). I thought this man truer than the rest. I did not feel his passion an insult. Oh! Triplet, I could have loved this man—really loved him!TRIP. Then you don’t love him?WOFF. Love him! I hate him, and her, and all the world!TRIP. You will break with him then?WOFF. Break with him! No! I will feed his passion to the full—tempt him—torture him—play with him, as the angler plays the fish upon his hook! He shall rue the hour he trifled with a heart and brain like mine!TRIP. But his poor wife?WOFF. His wife! and are wives’ hearts the only hearts that throb, and feel, and break? His wife must take care of herself, it is not from me that mercy can come to her.TRIP. But madam—(a knock at door). Who’s this at such a moment (he goes to the window)! ’Tis a lady! Eh! cloaked and hooded. Who can she be? Perhaps a sitter! My new profession has transpired![A tap at room-door. Enter a slatternly servant, who hands a paper.]SERV. From a lady who waits below.TRIP. (reads and drops the paper). “Mabel Vane!”WOFF. His wife here! (To servant) Shew the lady up stairs![Exit Servant.What does she come here for?TRIP. I don’t know, and I wish to heaven she had stayed away! You will retire, of course you will retire?WOFF. No, sir! I will know why she comes to you (reflects, enters the picture again). Keep it from me if you can![Triplet sinks into a chair, the picture of consternation.]TRIP. (with a ghastly smile, going very slowly towards the door). I am going to be in the company of thetwo loveliest women in England; I would rather be between a lion and a unicorn—like the royal arms.[A tap at the door.[Enter Mabel Vane in hood and cloak, a mask in her hand.]TRIP. Madam!MABEL(crosses toR.hastily). See first that I am not followed; that man who pursued me from my husband’s house,—look out.TRIP. (looking through window). Sir Charles Pomander! he examines the house—his hand is on the knocker—no! he retires! (he rids her of her hood, mantle, mask, &c.)MABEL. I breathe again (hastily). Mr. Triplet, you said I might command your services.TRIP. (bows).MABEL. You know this actress you spoke of to-day, Mrs. Woffington?TRIP. (aside). Curse it! I am honoured by her acquaintance, madam!MABEL. You will take me to her, to the theatre where she acts?TRIP. But consider, madam!MABEL. You must not refuse me.TRIP. But what can be the use of it?MABEL. I am sure you are true and honest—I will trust you (Trip. bows). When you saw me yesterday, I was the happiest woman in the world, for I love my husband; and I thought then he loved me as he used to do. Two days ago I left our country home—I yearned to be by my husband’s side;I counted the hours of the journey, the miles, the yards of the road—I reached his house at last—to find that the heart, on which I had so longed to rest my head, was mine no longer.TRIP. Poor thing! poor thing!MABEL. And she who held my place, was the woman—the actress you so praised to me; and now you pity me, do you not; and will not refuse my request?TRIP. But be advised;—do not think of seeking Mrs. Woffington; she has a good heart, but a fiery temper; besides, good heavens! you two ladies are rivals. Have you read the Rival Queens, Madam?MABEL. I will cry to her for justice and mercy;—I never saw a kinder face than this lady’s—she must be good and noble!TRIP. She is! I know a family she saved from starvation and despair.MABEL(seeing Woff. in the picture). Ah! she is there! see! see! (she approaches the easel).TRIP. (interposing). Oh, my portrait! you must not go near that, the colours are wet!MABEL. Oh, that she were here, as this wonderful portrait is; and then how I would plead to her for my husband’s heart! (she addresses the supposed picture). Oh, give him back to me! what is one more heart to you? you are so rich, and I am so poor, that without his love I have nothing; but must sit me down and cry till my heart breaks—give him back to me, beautiful, terrible, woman; for with all your gifts you cannot love him as his poor Mabel does. Oh, give him back to me—and I will love you andkiss your feet, and pray for you till my dying day (kneels to her and sobs). Ah!—a tear! it is alive! (runs to Triplet and hides her head) I am frightened! I am frightened![Woffington steps out of frame and stands with one hand on her brow, in a half-despairing attitude. She waves her hand to Triplet to retire—Mabel stands trembling.]WOFF. We would be alone.TRIP. (in consternation). But, Mrs. Woffington, but, ladies!WOFF. Leave us!TRIP. I will retire into my sleeping apartment (retires into inner roomR.H.,and puts out his head). Be composed, ladies. Neither of you could help it.WOFF. Leave us, I say! (he vanishes suddenly).(A long uneasy pause.)WOFF. (with forced coldness). At least, madam, do me the justice to believe I did not know Mr. Vane was married.MABEL. I am sure of it—I feel you are as good as you are gifted.WOFF. Mrs. Vane, I am not—you deceive yourself.MABEL. Then, heaven have mercy on me! but you are—I see it in your face, ah! you know you pity me!WOFF. I do, madam—and I could consent never more to see your—Mr. Vane.MABEL. Ah, but will you give me back his heart? What will his presence be to me if his love remain behind?WOFF. But, how, madam?MABEL. The magnet can repel as well as attract—you who can enchant—can you not break your own spell?WOFF. You ask much of me!MABEL. Alas, I do!WOFF. But I could do even this.MABEL. You could!WOFF. And perhaps if you—who have not only touched my heart, but won my respect, say to me—“do so,” I shall do it (Mabel clasps her hands). There is only one way—but that way is simple. Mr. Vane thinks better of me than I deserve—I have only to make him (with a trembling lip) believe me worse than I am, and he will return to you, and love you better, far better, for having known, admired, and despised, Peg Woffington.MABEL. Oh! I shall bless you every hour of my life (pause). But rob you of your good name! bid a woman soil her forehead so for me! (sighs, long pause) With heaven’s help I do refuse your offer; it is better I should die with my heart crushed, but my conscience unstained; for so my humble life has passed till now.WOFF. Humble! such as you are the diamonds of the world!!! Angel of truth and goodness, you have conquered! The poor heart we both overrate shall be your’s again. In my hands ’tis painted glass at best—but set in the lustre of your love, it may become a priceless jewel. Can you trust me?MABEL. With my life!WOFF. And will you let me call you friend?MABEL. Friend! no—not friend!WOFF. Alas!MABEL. Let me call you sister? I have no sister! (timidly and pleadingly)WOFF. Sister! oh, yes! call me sister! (they embrace) You do not know what it is to me, whom the proud ones of the world pass by with averted looks, to hear that sacred name from lips as pure as yours. Let me hold you in my arms—so—a little while—if you knew the good it does me to feel your heart beating close to mine—(pause); and now to bring back this truant—how this heart flutters—you must compose yourself (goes to door leading to inner room and opens it). And I have need to be alone awhile (puts her in, comes forward and sits a moment with her hands pressed over her forehead). ’Twas a terrible wrench—but ’tis over; and now—“about my brains” as Hamlet says—to bring back the husband to his duty—what a strange office for a woman like me! How little the world knows about us after all (she sighs and sobs convulsively). I ought to feel very happy—pshaw! On with the mask and spangles, Peggy—and away with the fumes of this pleasant day-dream—how to bring Pomander hither? Let me see—this paper (takes paper Mabel sent up) signed in her hand; Mabel Vane—what if by its aid—I have it—pen—ink—one never can find writing materials in an author’s room (goes to door and calls). Triplet! (enter Triplet from inner room). Pens and ink—quick!TRIP. (gets them, looking at her). Here, madam—and paper?WOFF. No, I have that here (she writes—he watches her).TRIP. Her eyes are red—and Mrs. Vane all of a flutter inside. There’s been a storm—but they haven’t torn each other in pieces, that’s one comfort. But has she relented, I wonder?WOFF. Triplet! This note to Sir Charles Pomander.TRIP. Madam (takes it). What is it, I wonder? However, ’tis not my business (going—pauses). But it is my business—I’m not a postman—if I carry letters I ought to know the contents (returns). Madam—WOFF. Well!TRIP. Madam—I—I—WOFF. I see—you wish to know the contents of that letter—hear them: “Follow the bearer.”TRIP. Madam!WOFF. (reads). I am here without my husband’s knowledge.TRIP. Mrs. Woffington!WOFF. (reads). Alone and unprotected—signed “Mabel Vane.”TRIP. Her own signature too! Mrs. Woffington—you are a great actress—you have been cruelly wronged—you have saved me from despair, and my children from starvation; but before I will carry that letter, I will have my hands hacked off at the wrists.WOFF. (aside). What a good creature this is. Then you refuse to obey my orders.TRIP. No! no! ask me to jump out of that window—to burn my favourite tragedy—to forswear pen and ink for ever—anything but carry that letter, and I will do it.WOFF. Well—leave the letter! (Triplet runs for his hat) Where are you going?TRIP. To bring the husband to his wife’s feet—and so to save one angel—that’s the lady in the other room—from despair; and another angel—that’s you, from a great crime. Trust poor Jemmy Triplet for once to bring this domestic drama to a happy denouement![ExitL.WOFF. How innocently he helps my plot! I must have all the puppets under my hand. If I know Sir Charles, he is still on the watch (goes to window). Yes! (goes to inner door) Here—your eldest boy, Mrs. Triplet; I want him (enter LysimachusR.door). Lysimachus, you see that gentleman, run down—give him this letter—and then show him up here (exit LysimachusL.door). And now Mrs. Vane’s mantle, the hood well forward—so—we are nearly of a height—he does not know I am here—if I can but imitate her voice and rustic shyness—allons, Peggy ’tis seldom you acted in so good a cause (she assumes the air of Mrs. Vane).[Enter Pomander behind—Woffington appears sunk in grief—he comes forward—she starts and gives a little shriek.]POM. My dear Mrs. Vane (she shrinks). Do not be alarmed—loveliness neglected, and simplicity deceived, give irresistible claims to respect as well as adoration. Had fate given me this hand (he takes her hand)—WOFF. Oh, please sir!POM. Would I have abandoned it for that of aWoffington—as artificial and hollow a jade as ever winked at a side-box. Oh, had I been your husband, madam—how would I have revelled in the pastoral pleasures you so sweetly recalled yesterday—the Barbary mare—WOFF. (timidly). Hen!POM. Ah, yes, the Barbary hen; and old dame—dame—WOFF. Best, please sir!POM. Yes, Best—that happy though elderly female for whom you have condescended to make puddings.WOFF. Alas, sir!POM. You sigh! It is not yet too late to convert me. Upon this white hand I swear to become your pupil, as I am your adorer (he kisses it); let me thus fetter it with a worthy manacle. (Aside.What will innocence say to my five hundred guinea diamond?)WOFF. La, sir! how pretty!POM. Let me show how poor its lustre is to that of your eyes (he tries to draw back her hood).WOFF. Oh, sir—hark! (she suddenly starts away and listens in an attitude of alarm).POM. Ah! (noise without). Footsteps on the stairs! (goes to door and opens it, listening).VANE(without). Another flight!POM. Ha! Vane’s voice, by all that’s mal-à-propos; (Woffington screams and rushes into inner apartment) and now for Monsieur le mari (Triplet appears at the door leading to the staircase, with his back to the stage and speaking off).TRIP. Have a care, sir! There is a hiatus in thefourth step—and now for the friend who waits to forget grief and suspicion in your arms—that friend is——[Enter Vane—Triplet turns round and recognizes Pomander.]The Devil!POM. You flatter me!VANE. So this is the mysterious rencontre—pray, Sir Charles, what is it you want to forget in my arms?POM. In your arms! (Aside.Confounds himself with his wife.) Perhaps you had better explain, my friend?TRIP. Nay, sir—be yours the pleasing duty!VANE. In one word, Sir Charles Pomander, why are you here? and for what purpose am I sent for?POM. In two words my dear fellow, I don’t choose to tell you why I am here—and ’twas not I who sent for you.VANE(to Triplet). Speak, sirrah—your riddling message!TRIP. There’s nothing for it but the truth. Then, sir—the friend I expected you would find here was Mrs.——POM. (to Trip.). Stop, my deplorable-looking friend: (to Vane) when the answer to such a question begins with a mistress, I think you had better not enquire further: (to Trip.) Don’t complete the name.VANE. I command you to complete it, or——TRIP. Gentlemen, gentlemen, how am I to satisfy both of you?POM. My dear Vane, remember it is a lady’s secret—the only thing in the world one is bound to keep, except one’s temper, which, by-the-bye, you’re losing rapidly.VANE(aside). He spoke of griefs and suspicions to be forgiven and forgotten. Mabel has left my house. (crosses toC.) Sir Charles Pomander, I insist on knowing who this lady is. If it is as I fear, I have the best right to ask.POM. But the worst right to be answered.VANE. How am I to construe this tone, sir?POM. Do as we did at school with a troublesome passage—don’t construe it at all.VANE. Sir Charles Pomander, you are impertinent.POM. My dear Vane, you are in a passion.VANE. By heaven, sir——TRIP. Gentlemen, gentlemen, I give you my word. Mr. Vane, she does not know of Sir Charles Pomander’s presence here.VANE. She? s’death, who?TRIP. Mrs. Vane!VANE. My wife—here—and with him?TRIP. No—not withhim!POM. I regret to contradict you, my dilapidated friend, or to hurt you, my dear Vane; but really, in self-defence—you know this signature (offers paper written by Woffington).VANE. Mabel’s hand!POM. Yes—what my attentions began, your little peccadilloes finished—cause and effect, my dear fellow,—pure cause and effect.VANE. Coxcomb and slanderer! draw and defend yourself.[draws.POM. If you will have it![draws.TRIP. (throwing himself between them). Hold! hold!(Woffington suddenly opens the inner room door, and presents herself at the threshold: her hood is drawn over her face).TRIP. Mrs. Vane!VANE. Mabel! wife! say that this is not true—that you were lured by stratagem. Oh, speak! belie this coxcomb! You know how bitterly I repented the infatuation that brought me to the feet of another.(Woffington bursts into a laugh, and throws back the hood.)POM. Woffington!VANE. She here!WOFF. There, Sir Charles, did I not wager he would confess he was heartily ashamed of himself? (crosses toC.)TRIP. (aside). I have a glimmer of comprehension.WOFF. Yes—we have had our laugh—and Mr. Vane his lesson; as for Mrs. Vane—this way, madam, and satisfy yourself.(Mabel appears.)MABEL. Ernest—dear Ernest!VANE(sternly). Mabel, how came you here?WOFF. In such very questionable company as a town rake and a profane stage-player? Mrs. Vane might have asked the same question yesterday. Why Mrs. Vane somehow fancied you had mislaid your heart in Covent Garden green-room, and that I hadfeloniously appropriated it: she came here in search of stolen goods—would you could rummage here, madam, and satisfy yourself if you still want proof, that I have no such thing as a heart about me—not even one of my own.TRIP. I deny that—a better heart than Mrs. Woffington’s——WOFF. What on earth do you know about it, man?VANE(to Mabel). But this letter?WOFF. Was written by me on a paper which by accident bore Mrs. Vane’s signature. The fact is, I had a wager with Sir Charles here—his diamond ring against my left-hand glove—that I could bewitch a certain country gentleman’s imagination, though his heart all the while belonged to its rightful owner, and I have won (sighs).VANE. What a dupe I have been—am I enough humiliated?POM. Ha! ha! ha! My poor fellow, you had better return to Huntingdonshire, and leave town and the players to us, who know how to deal with them.WOFF. And are quite safe against being taken in—eh! Sir Charles? (points to ring on her finger).POM. Oh, perfectly—we know each other’s cards—retain that ring as a mark of my——(Woffington holds up her finger.)POM. Respect!WOFF. No, no—I accept your ring; but I shall always hate you.POM. I welcome the sentiment—I can endure anything but your indifference.VANE. And you, Mabel, will you forgive my infatuation?MABEL. I forgive all, Ernest—(crosses to Woffington, aside to her) what do we not owe you, sister?WOFF. Nothing that word does not pay for. (Aside) Alas! and so ends the game. You and I have the tricks, I think, Sir Charles—Mrs. Vane the honors.—Mr. Vane will quit hazard and the clubs for Willoughby Manor and the double dummy of a matrimonial rubber. As for me, I revoke my lead of hearts.POM. After taking my ace of diamonds!TRIP. And poor Jemmy Triplet I suppose must once again take up his solitary hand at patience.WOFF. Unless Manager Rich is fool enough to accept my judgment for gospel—and then—but whom have we here?[Enter Cibber, Quin, Mrs. Clive, Snarl and Soaper; Snarl and Soaper cross behind toR.H.]CIB. Ah! Mrs. Vane—Mr. Vane—Sir Charles—Peggy—Bonjour, Mesdames et Messieurs—Mr. Triplet, I congratulate you—stap my vitals!TRIP. Congratulate me!CLIVE. Yes—Quin here, who’s a good natured bear, declares we behaved shamefully to you to-day, and so as Mr. Rich has just told us of your good fortune——TRIP. My good fortune! there must be some mistake. You’ve come to the wrong house.QUIN. No; you have a prospect henceforward ofdining every day of your life. ’Tis a great comfort, and I wish you appetite to enjoy it, Mr. Triplet.TRIP. Am I awake? Pinch me, somebody—(Woffington pinches him) thank you—Iamawake.CIB. Manager Rich, thanks to Peggy’s influence here, and a good word or two from one who shall be nameless, has accepted one of your tragedies.TRIP. Oh, Lord!SOAP. He! he! I give you joy, Mr. Triplet; Mr. Snarl and I are so glad, for as Mr. Snarl said to me, as we left your studio this morning, “I do so wish they’d play one of Mr. Triplet’s tragedies.”SNARL. That I might have the pleasure of criticising it. Mr. Rich did me the honour to ask which of the three we should accept—I told him, the shortest.CLIVE. You’ll be pleased to hear, Mrs. Woffington, there’s a capital part forme.(Aside) Now she could knock me down, I know.TRIP. One of my tragedies accepted at last! Oh, gracious goodness! Break it gently to my wife—I know I’m dreaming, but prithee don’t anybody wake me. Oh, Mrs. Woffington—my guardian angel—my preserver! (seizes her hand)WOFF. No, no—we had better wait, and see on which act of your tragedy the curtain falls.TRIP. Ah! I forgot that.MABEL. I need not wait to express my gratitude—say in what way can I ever thank you?WOFF. Dear sister, when hereafter in your home of peace you hear harsh sentence passed on us, whose lot is admiration, but rarely love, triumph but nevertranquillity—think sometimes of poor Peg Woffington, and say, stage masks may cover honest faces, and hearts beat true beneath a tinselled robe—Nor ours the sole gay masks that hide a faceWhere care and tears have left their withering trace,On the world’s stage, as in our mimic art,We oft confound the actor with the part.POM. Distrust appearances—an obvious moral—With which, however, I’ve no time to quarrel;Though for my part, I’ve found, the winning ridersIn the world’s race are often the outsiders.VANE. So I have played at love—witched from my will.MAB. My love was always Ernest, and is still.CIB. Pshaw! stap my vitals! “Manners make the man,”They have mademe!SNARL. ’Tis about all they can!SOAP. Yes; Mr. Cibber’s epitaph shall be,He played Lord Foppington at seventy-three.CLIVE. I’m for plain speaking—let the truth be shown—SNARL. Truth’s in a well—best leave that well alone—QUIN. Its bitter waters why shouldyouuncork?No; play like me—an honest knife and fork.TRIP. That part would be well played by many a poet,Had he the practice one must have, to know it,But ’tis the verdict by the public past,Must sentence scribblers or to feast or fast.Be kind to-night: in triplet tone I sue,As actor, manager, and author too.POM. Mind that for sentence when they call the cause on,You’ve at least one Peg here—to hang applause on.WOFF. Yes; sure those kind eyes and bright smiles one traces,Are not deceptivemasks—but honestfaces.I’d swear it—but if your hands make it certain,Then all is right on both sides of the curtain.[CURTAIN FALLS.]PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SONS,LONDON GAZETTE OFFICE, ST. MARTIN’S LANE.
SCENE.—A large roughly furnished Garret. Easel with Woffington’s Picture on it, half concealed by a green baize Drapery. Colours, Palette, Pencils, Maulstick, &c. &c. Mrs. Triplet reclining in a large chair, and wrapped up like an invalid. Violin hanging against wall. Triplet seated at small Table writing. Two Children. Wooden Chairs. Boy is rocking Cradle and singing.
TRIP. Do keep those children quiet, Jane.
MRS. T. Hush, my dears, let your father write his comedy. Comedy seems so troublesome to write.
TRIP. Yes! somehow sorrow comes more natural to me! (pause) I’ve got a bright thought; you see, Jane, they are all at a sumptuous banquet: all the Dramatis Personæ except the poet, (writes) music—sparkling wine—massive plate—soups—fish—shall I have three dishes of fish? venison—game—pickles and provocatives in the centre, then up jumps one of the guests, and says he—
BOY. Oh, dear! I am so hungry!
GIRL. And so am I.
TRIP. That is an absurd remark, Lysimachus, not four hours after breakfast.
BOY. But father—there wasn’t any breakfast for breakfast!
TRIP. Now I ask you, Mrs. Triplet—how am I to write comic scenes, if you let Lysimachus and Roxalana there put the heavy business in every five minutes?
MRS. T. Forgive them, the poor thingsarehungry!
TRIP. Then they must learn to be hungry in another room. They shan’t cling round my pen and paralyze it, just when it is going to make all our fortunes (rises); but you women have no consideration—send ’em all to bed, every man Jack of ’em (children raise a doleful cry). Hungry! hungry! Is that a proper expression to use before a father who is sitting down (seats himself), all gaiety—and hilarity to write a Com— a Com— (chokes)? Where’s the youngest—where’s Cleopatra? (Mrs. T. brings child to him—he takes her on his knee.)
GIRL. Father, I’m not so very hungry!
BOY(who has come to his Father). And I’m not hungry at all—I had a piece of bread and butter yesterday!
TRIP. Wife; they’ll drive me mad!
BOY(sotto voce). Mother; father made us hungry out of his book.
GIRL. Is it a cookery book, father?
TRIP. Ha! ha! is my comedy a cookery book?The young rogues say more good things than I do—that is the worst of it. Wife, I took that sermon I wrote—
MRS. T. And beautiful it was, James.
TRIP. I took it to the Reverend Gentleman, and he would not have it, he said it was too hard upon sin for the present day (dashes at the paper). Ah! if my friend Mrs. Woffington would but leave this stupid comedy and take to tragedy, things would smile again.
MRS. T. Oh, James, how can you expect anything from that woman? You won’t believe what all the world says—you measure folk by your own good heart.
TRIP. I haven’t a good heart, I spoke like a brute to you just now.
MRS. T. Never mind, James, I wonder how you put up with me at all! a sick useless creature. I often wish to die, for your sake—I know you would do better—I am such a weight round your neck. (Triplet takes Mrs. T. to chair—then returns with energy to his comedy—boy brings violin.)
BOY. Play us a tune on the fiddle, father!
MRS. T. Ay do, husband! that often helps you in your writing. (Triplet plays a merry tune dolefully.)
TRIP. It won’t do, music must be in the heart, or it will never come out of the fingers (puts fiddle down—boy takes it and puts it in the cradle). No! let us be serious and finish the comedy—perhaps it hitches because I forgot to invoke Thalia—the Muse of Comedy, Mrs. Triplet; she must be a black-hearted jade if she won’t lend a broad grinto a poor devil starving in the middle of his hungry little ones.
MRS. T. Heathen goddesses can’t help us. We had better pray to heaven to look down on us and our children.
TRIP. (sullenly). You forget, Mrs. Triplet, that our street is very narrow, and the opposite houses are very high.
MRS. T. James!
TRIP. How can heaven see an honest man and his family in such an out-of-the-way place as this.
MRS. T. Oh! what words are these?
TRIP. Have we given honesty a fair trial? yes or no (walking in great agitation)!
MRS. T. No, not till we die as we have lived.
TRIP. Isupposeheaven is just, I can’tknowit, till it sends me an angel to take my children’s part; they cry to me for bread, I have nothing to give them but hard words. God knows it has taken a great deal to break my heart, but it is broken at last, broken—broken—(he sobs with head on his hands on table).
[Enter Woffington speaking,L.D.]
WOFF. Wasn’t somebody inquiring after an angel? Here I am!
TRIP. Mrs. Woffington!
[Woff. seeing Triplet’s distress, retreats; but presently comes back.]
WOFF. See (shows him letter). “Madam, you are an angel;” from a gentleman, a perfect stranger to me, so it must be correct (enter Pompey with a basket). Ah! here is another angel! there are two sorts youknow, angels of light and angels of darkness (takes basket from Pompey). Lucifer, avaunt! (in a terrible tone) and wait outside the door (in a familiar tone. Exit Pompey). (Aside.They are in sore distress, poor things!) I am sorry you are ill, Mrs. Triplet! I have brought you some physic—black draught from Burgundy (Mrs. Triplet attempts to rise but sinks back again). Don’t move, I insist!
TRIP. Oh, Mrs. Woffington, had I dreamed you would deign to come here,—
WOFF. You would have taken care to be out. (Aside.Their faces look pinched, I know what that means.) Mrs. Triplet, I have come to give your husband a sitting for my portrait, will you allow me to eat my little luncheon in your room? I am so hungry. Pompey! (Pompey runs in) run to the corner and buy me that pie I took such a fancy to as we came along (gives money to Pompey. Exit Pompey2E.L.).
BOY. Mother, will the lady give me a bit of her pie?
MRS. T. Hush, you rude boy!
WOFF. She is not much of a lady if she doesn’t! Now children, we’ll first look at father’s comedy. Nineteen dramatis personæ,—cut out seven. Don’t bring your armies intoourdrawing-rooms, Mr. Dagger and Bowl: can you marshal battalions on a Turkey carpet, and make gentlefolks witty in platoons? What’s here in the first act? A duel! and both wounded—you butcher!
TRIP. (deprecatingly). They are not to die, they shan’t die, upon my honour!
WOFF. Do you think I’ll trust their lives withyou? I’ll show you how to run people through the body (takes pen, writes). Business, “Araminta looks out of garret window, the combatants drop their swords, put their hands to their hearts, and stagger off,O.P. andP.S.” Now children! who helps me lay the cloth?
CHIL. I, and I! (they run to dresser.)
MRS. T. (half rising). Madam, I can’t think of allowing you.
WOFF. Sit down ma’am, or I must use brute force (in Mrs. T’s ear): shake hands with distress, for it shall never enter your door again.
[Mrs. T. clasps her hands.
(Woff. meets the children with the tablecloth, which she lays.) Twelve plates, quick! twenty-four knives, quicker! forty-eight forks, quickest.
[Enter Pompey, who sets pie on table, and exit, looking wistfully at it.]
Mr. Triplet,—your coat, if you please,—and carve.
TRIP. My coat, madam!
WOFF. Yes; off with it, there’s a hole in it (Triplet, with signs of astonishment, gives her his coat, then carves pie: they eat. Woff. seats herself). Be pleased to cast your eye on that, ma’am (boy passes housewife to Mrs. Triplet). Woffington’s housewife, made by herself, homely to the eye, but holds everything in the world, and has a small space left for everything else; to be returned by the bearer. Thank you, sir! (stitches away very rapidly) Eat away; children, when once I begin the pie will soon end; (girl takes plate to her mother), I do everything so quick.
GIRL. The lady sews faster than you, mother.
WOFF. Bless the child, don’t come near my sword-arm, the needle will go into your eye, and out at the back of your head (children laugh). The needle will be lost, the child will be no more, enter undertaker, house turned topsyturvy, father shows Woffington the door, off she goes, with a face as long and as dull as papa’s comedy, crying, “Fine Chaney o-ran-ges!”
[The children laugh heartily.
GIRL. Mother! the lady is very funny!
WOFF. You’ll be as funny when you’re as well paid for it.
[Triplet chokes with laughing, and lays down knife and fork.]
MRS. T. James, take care!
WOFF. There’s the man’s coat, (aside) with a ten pound note in it.
[Girl takes it to Triplet.
TRIP. My wife is a good woman, ma’am, but deficient in an important particular.
MRS. T. Oh, James!
TRIP. Yes, my dear, I regret to say you haveno sense of humour:no more than a cat, Jane.
WOFF. What! because the poor thing can’t laugh at your comedy?
TRIP. No ma’am, but she laughs at nothing.
WOFF. Try her with one of your tragedies!
MRS. T. I am sure, James, if I don’t laugh, it is not for the want of the will. (Dolefully) I used to be a very hearty laugher; but I haven’t laughed this two years (Woffington leads Mrs. T. to chair).
WOFF. Oh, you haven’t, haven’t you? Then the next two years you shall do nothing else.
TRIP. Oh, madam, that passes the talent even of the great comedian.
BOY.Sheis not a comedy lady.
WOFF. Hallo!
BOY. You don’t ever cry, pretty lady.
WOFF. (ironically). Of course not.
BOY(confidentially). Comedy is crying. Father cries all the time he writes his comedy.
WOFF. Oh!
TRIP. Hold your tongue. They were tears of laughter, you know, ma’am. Wife, our children talk too much; they thrust their noses into everything, and criticise their own father.
WOFF. Unnatural offspring!
TRIP. And when they take up a notion, the devil himself couldn’t convince them to the contrary; for instance, all this morning they thought fit to assume that they were starving.
BOY. So we were till the angel came, and the devil went for the pie.
TRIP. There, there, there, there! now, you mark my words, Jane, we shall never get that idea out of their heads——
WOFF. Till we (cuts a large piece of pie, and puts on child’s plate) put a different idea into their stomachs. Come,trinquons!as they do in France (fills glasses, and touches hers with those of the children, who crowd round her with delight). Were you ever in France, Triplet?
TRIP. No, madam, I am thoroughly original.
WOFF. That’s true. Well, I went there once to learn tragedy of the great Dumesnil (recites a coupleof lines of tragedy à la Française). But Peg Woffington was never meant to walk the stage on stilts;—no, let Mrs. Pritchard pledge Melpomene in her own poison-bowl, I’ll give you Thalia in a bumper of Burgundy. Come, drink to your new mistress, Triplet (fills her glass). Mrs. Triplet (she rises, bottle and glass in hand), I must prescribe for you too. A wine glassful of thiselixirsix times a day till further notice. Success to your husband’s comedy! What’s this? (Sees fiddle in cradle). A fiddle, as I’m an ex-orange wench! (Giving it to Triplet.) Here, Triplet, a jig—a jig. (Triplet takes fiddle.) Peggy has not forgotten how to cover the buckle. Come, young ones—(Triplet plays. She dances a jig with the children)—more power to your elbow, man—shake it, ye sowl! Hurroo! (She dances up to Triplet, who, in his excitement, rises and joins in the jig, while Mrs. Triplet follows their movements with her body.) But come, Mr. Triplet, you really shan’t make me play the fool any longer. Business!—my picture is to be finished. Mrs. Triplet, we must clear the studio:—take your cherubs into the bed-room.
MRS. T. (seizes her hand). Oh, madam! may the blessings of a mother watch over you in life and after it, and the blessings of these innocents too!
WOFF. Pooh! pooh! let me kiss the brats (kisses them). (Aside.Poor things!)
BOY. I shall pray for you after father and mother.
GIRL. I shall pray for you after daily bread, because we were so hungry till you came.
WOFF. (putting them off). There, there. Exeunt mother and cherubs. Music for the exit, Trippy—themerriest you can extort from that veteran Stradivarius of yours. (Aside.Heaven knows I’ve as much need of merry music as the saddest of them) (sees Triplet overcome). Why, how now? If there isn’t this kind-hearted, soft-headed, old booby of a Triplet making a picture of himself in water colours. (Goes up to him—taps him on the arm). Come! to work—to work, and with a will, for I have invited Cibber, and Quin, and Clive, and Snarl, Soaper and all, to see the portrait, which is to make your fortune and hand me down to posterity not half as handsome as nature made me. There (sits), I must put on my most bewitching smile of course. (Aside) Oh, dear! how it belies my poor aching heart.
[Triplet, during this, has got his palette and pencil, set his easel, and begun to work, while Woffington sits.]
Well, are you satisfied with it?
TRIP. Anything but, madam (paints).
WOFF. Cheerful soul! then I presume it is like.
TRIP. Not a bit. (Woffington stretches.) You must not yawn, ma’am—you must not yawn just now!
WOFF. Oh, yes, I must, if you will be so stupid.
TRIP. I was just about to catch the turn of the lip.
WOFF. Well, catch it, it won’t run away.
TRIP. A pleasant half-hour it will be for me, when all your friends come here, like cits at a shilling ordinary, each for his cut. Head a little more that way. (Sadly) I suppose you can’t sit quiet, Madam; then never mind. Look on this picture and on that!
WOFF. Meaning, that I am painted as well as my picture.
TRIP. Oh, no, no, no! but to turn from your face, on which the lightning of expression plays continually, to this stony, detestable, dead daub: I could—(seizes palette-knife)—miserable mockery! vile caricature of life and beauty! take that! (dashes the knife through picture.)
WOFF. Oh! right through my pet dimple! Hark! I hear the sound of coaches—the hour of critique approaches!
TRIP. Two coach loads of criticism, and the picture ruined!
WOFF. (reflecting). I’ll give you a lesson—your palette-knife (cuts away face of the picture).
TRIP. There will be Mr. Cibber with his sneering snuff-box; Mr. Quin with his humourous bludgeon; Mrs. Clive with her tongue; Mr. Snarl with his abuse; and Mr. Soaper with his praise!—but I deserve it all!
WOFF. That green baize—(gets behind easel)—fling it over the easel—so; and now (shewing her face through the picture) you shall criticise criticism, and learn the true weight of goose’s feathers.
(Triplet throws the baize over the picture.)
[Enter Cibber, Clive, Quin, Snarl, and Soaper. Triplet bows humbly. They return his salute carelessly.]
CIB. Ough! Four pair of stairs!
QUIN. Well, where’s the picture? (crossing toR.H.with Clive.)
(They take up positions to look at it.)
TRIP. Mrs. Woffington, gentlemen!
(Triplet removes the baize and suppresses a start.)
SOAP. Ah!
SNARL. Umph!
QUIN. Ho!
CLIVE. Eh?
CIB. Ah!
QUIN. Whose portrait did you say?
CLIVE. He, he! Peg Woffington’s—it’s a pretty head enough, and not a bit like Woffington.
QUIN. Nay—compare paint with paint, Kitty—who ever saw Woffington’s real face?
SOAP. Now, I call it beautiful; so smooth, polished, and uniform.
SNARL. Whereas nature delights in irregular and finely graduated surfaces. Your brush is not destitute of a certain crude talent, Mr. Triplet, but you are deficient in the great principles of Art; the first of which is a loyal adherence to truth; beauty itself is but one of the forms of truth, and nature is our finite exponent of infinite truth.
SOAP. What wonderful criticism! One quite loses oneself among such grand words!
CIB. Yes, yes! proceed Mr. Snarl. I am of your mind.
SNARL. Now in nature, a woman’s face at this distance, has a softness of outline—(draws back and makes a lorgnette of his two hands, the others do the same), whereas your work is hard and tea-boardy.
SOAP. Well it is aleetle tea-boardy, perhaps. But the light and shade, Mr. Snarl—! the—what-d’ye-call—the—um—you know—eh?
SNARL. Ah! you mean the chiaroscuro.
SOAP. Exactly!
SNARL. The chiaroscuro is all wrong. In nature,the nose, intercepting the light on one side the face, throws a shadow under the eye. Caravaggio, the Venetians, and the Bolognese, do particular justice to this—no such shade appears in your portrait.
CIB. ’Tis so—stap my vitals!
(All express assent except Soaper.)
SOAP. But, my dear Mr. Snarl, if there are no shades, there are lights—loads of lights.
SNARL. There are, only they are impossible (superciliously). You have, however, succeeded tolerably in the mechanical parts—the dress, for example; but your Woffington is not a woman, Sir—nor nature!
(All shake their heads in assent.)
WOFF. (C.) Woman! for she has tricked four men; nature! for a fluent dunce does not know her when he sees her!
CIB. Why—what the deuce?
CLIVE. Woffington!
QUIN. Pheugh!
WOFF. (steps out of picture). A pretty face, and not like Woffington! I owe you two, Kitty Clive.
(Mrs. Clive bridles.)
(to Quin). Who ever saw Peggy’s real face? Look at it now if you can without blushing.
ALL(except Snarl). Ha! ha!
SNARL. For all this, I maintain on the unalterable rules of art——
ALL. Ha! ha! ha!
SNARL(fiercely). Goths! (Quin and Cibber turn up stage laughing). Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!
CIB. Good morning, Mr. Snarl!
SNARL. I have a criticism to write of last night’sperformance. I shall sit on your pictures one day, Mr. Brush.
TRIP. (crosses to Snarl). Pictures are not eggs, Sir—they are not meant to be sat upon.
SNARL. Come, Soaper!
[Exit.
SOAP. You shall always have my good word, Mr. Triplet.
TRIP. I will try and not deserve it, Mr. Soaper!
SOAP. At your service, Mr. Snarl!
[Exit.
CIB. Serve ’em right—a couple of serpents! or rather one boa-constrictor—Soaper slavers, for Snarl to crush (crosses toL.). But we were all too hard on poor Trip: and if he will accept my apology——
TRIP. Thank you! “Colley Cibber’s Apology” can be got at any book-stall.
CIB. Confound his impertinence! Come along, Jemmy!
QUIN. If ever you paint my portrait——
TRIP. The bear from Hockley Hole shall sit for the head.
QUIN. Curse his impudence! Have with you, Mr. Cibber.
[Exeunt Cibber and Quin,L.D.
CLIVE. I did intend to have my face painted, sir, but after this——
TRIP. You will continue to do it yourself!
CLIVE. Brute!
[Exit in a rage,L.D.
TRIP. Did I show a spirit, or did I not, ma’am?
WOFF. Tremendous!
TRIP. Did you mark the shot I fired into each as he sheered off?
WOFF. Terrific!
TRIP. I defy them! the coxcombs! as for realcriticism, I invite it. Yours for instance, or that sweet lady’s I met at Mr. Vane’s, or anybody that appreciates one’s beauties. By-the-bye, you were not at Mr. Vane’s yesterday?
WOFF. Yes, I was!
TRIP. No! I came with my verses, but she said you were not there.
WOFF. Who said so?
TRIP. The charming young lady who helped me with her own hand to nectar and ambrosia.
WOFF. A young lady?
TRIP. About twenty-two.
WOFF. In a travelling dress?
TRIP. Yes—brown hair—blue eyes! I poured out all to her;—that I expected to find you; that Mr. Vane admired you; and that you were sitting to me for your portrait; that I lived at 10, Hercules Buildings, and should be proud to show her the picture for her judgment.
WOFF. You told her all this?
TRIP. I did. Do you know her?
WOFF. Yes.
TRIP. Who is she?
WOFF. Mrs. Vane.
TRIP. Mrs. Vane! Mr. Vane’s mother? No—no! that can’t be!
WOFF. Mr. Vane’s wife!
TRIP. Wife?
WOFF. Yes.
TRIP. Then she wasn’t to know you were there?
WOFF. No.
TRIP. Then I let the cat out of the bag?
WOFF. Yes.
TRIP. And played the devil with their married happiness?
WOFF. Probably. (turns her back on him).
TRIP. Just my luck! Oh! Lord, Lord! To see what these fine gentlemen are! to have a lawful wife at home, and then to come and fall in love with you!Ido it for ever in my plays, it is all right there!—but in real life it is abominable!
WOFF. You forget, sir, that I am an actress!—a plaything for every profligate who can find the open sesame of the stage-door. Fool! to think there was an honest man in the world, and that he had shone on me!
TRIP. Mrs. Woffington!
WOFF. But what have we to do (walks agitated) with homes, and hearths, and firesides? Have we not the theatre, its triumphs, and full-handed thunders of applause? Who looks for hearts beneath the masks we wear? These men applaud us, cajole us, swear to us, lie to us, and yet, forsooth, we would have them respect us too.
TRIP. (fiercely). They shall respect you before James Triplet. A great genius like you, so high above them all!—my benefactress (whimpers).
WOFF. (taking his hand). I thought this man truer than the rest. I did not feel his passion an insult. Oh! Triplet, I could have loved this man—really loved him!
TRIP. Then you don’t love him?
WOFF. Love him! I hate him, and her, and all the world!
TRIP. You will break with him then?
WOFF. Break with him! No! I will feed his passion to the full—tempt him—torture him—play with him, as the angler plays the fish upon his hook! He shall rue the hour he trifled with a heart and brain like mine!
TRIP. But his poor wife?
WOFF. His wife! and are wives’ hearts the only hearts that throb, and feel, and break? His wife must take care of herself, it is not from me that mercy can come to her.
TRIP. But madam—(a knock at door). Who’s this at such a moment (he goes to the window)! ’Tis a lady! Eh! cloaked and hooded. Who can she be? Perhaps a sitter! My new profession has transpired!
[A tap at room-door. Enter a slatternly servant, who hands a paper.]
SERV. From a lady who waits below.
TRIP. (reads and drops the paper). “Mabel Vane!”
WOFF. His wife here! (To servant) Shew the lady up stairs!
[Exit Servant.
What does she come here for?
TRIP. I don’t know, and I wish to heaven she had stayed away! You will retire, of course you will retire?
WOFF. No, sir! I will know why she comes to you (reflects, enters the picture again). Keep it from me if you can!
[Triplet sinks into a chair, the picture of consternation.]
TRIP. (with a ghastly smile, going very slowly towards the door). I am going to be in the company of thetwo loveliest women in England; I would rather be between a lion and a unicorn—like the royal arms.
[A tap at the door.
[Enter Mabel Vane in hood and cloak, a mask in her hand.]
TRIP. Madam!
MABEL(crosses toR.hastily). See first that I am not followed; that man who pursued me from my husband’s house,—look out.
TRIP. (looking through window). Sir Charles Pomander! he examines the house—his hand is on the knocker—no! he retires! (he rids her of her hood, mantle, mask, &c.)
MABEL. I breathe again (hastily). Mr. Triplet, you said I might command your services.
TRIP. (bows).
MABEL. You know this actress you spoke of to-day, Mrs. Woffington?
TRIP. (aside). Curse it! I am honoured by her acquaintance, madam!
MABEL. You will take me to her, to the theatre where she acts?
TRIP. But consider, madam!
MABEL. You must not refuse me.
TRIP. But what can be the use of it?
MABEL. I am sure you are true and honest—I will trust you (Trip. bows). When you saw me yesterday, I was the happiest woman in the world, for I love my husband; and I thought then he loved me as he used to do. Two days ago I left our country home—I yearned to be by my husband’s side;I counted the hours of the journey, the miles, the yards of the road—I reached his house at last—to find that the heart, on which I had so longed to rest my head, was mine no longer.
TRIP. Poor thing! poor thing!
MABEL. And she who held my place, was the woman—the actress you so praised to me; and now you pity me, do you not; and will not refuse my request?
TRIP. But be advised;—do not think of seeking Mrs. Woffington; she has a good heart, but a fiery temper; besides, good heavens! you two ladies are rivals. Have you read the Rival Queens, Madam?
MABEL. I will cry to her for justice and mercy;—I never saw a kinder face than this lady’s—she must be good and noble!
TRIP. She is! I know a family she saved from starvation and despair.
MABEL(seeing Woff. in the picture). Ah! she is there! see! see! (she approaches the easel).
TRIP. (interposing). Oh, my portrait! you must not go near that, the colours are wet!
MABEL. Oh, that she were here, as this wonderful portrait is; and then how I would plead to her for my husband’s heart! (she addresses the supposed picture). Oh, give him back to me! what is one more heart to you? you are so rich, and I am so poor, that without his love I have nothing; but must sit me down and cry till my heart breaks—give him back to me, beautiful, terrible, woman; for with all your gifts you cannot love him as his poor Mabel does. Oh, give him back to me—and I will love you andkiss your feet, and pray for you till my dying day (kneels to her and sobs). Ah!—a tear! it is alive! (runs to Triplet and hides her head) I am frightened! I am frightened!
[Woffington steps out of frame and stands with one hand on her brow, in a half-despairing attitude. She waves her hand to Triplet to retire—Mabel stands trembling.]
WOFF. We would be alone.
TRIP. (in consternation). But, Mrs. Woffington, but, ladies!
WOFF. Leave us!
TRIP. I will retire into my sleeping apartment (retires into inner roomR.H.,and puts out his head). Be composed, ladies. Neither of you could help it.
WOFF. Leave us, I say! (he vanishes suddenly).
(A long uneasy pause.)
WOFF. (with forced coldness). At least, madam, do me the justice to believe I did not know Mr. Vane was married.
MABEL. I am sure of it—I feel you are as good as you are gifted.
WOFF. Mrs. Vane, I am not—you deceive yourself.
MABEL. Then, heaven have mercy on me! but you are—I see it in your face, ah! you know you pity me!
WOFF. I do, madam—and I could consent never more to see your—Mr. Vane.
MABEL. Ah, but will you give me back his heart? What will his presence be to me if his love remain behind?
WOFF. But, how, madam?
MABEL. The magnet can repel as well as attract—you who can enchant—can you not break your own spell?
WOFF. You ask much of me!
MABEL. Alas, I do!
WOFF. But I could do even this.
MABEL. You could!
WOFF. And perhaps if you—who have not only touched my heart, but won my respect, say to me—“do so,” I shall do it (Mabel clasps her hands). There is only one way—but that way is simple. Mr. Vane thinks better of me than I deserve—I have only to make him (with a trembling lip) believe me worse than I am, and he will return to you, and love you better, far better, for having known, admired, and despised, Peg Woffington.
MABEL. Oh! I shall bless you every hour of my life (pause). But rob you of your good name! bid a woman soil her forehead so for me! (sighs, long pause) With heaven’s help I do refuse your offer; it is better I should die with my heart crushed, but my conscience unstained; for so my humble life has passed till now.
WOFF. Humble! such as you are the diamonds of the world!!! Angel of truth and goodness, you have conquered! The poor heart we both overrate shall be your’s again. In my hands ’tis painted glass at best—but set in the lustre of your love, it may become a priceless jewel. Can you trust me?
MABEL. With my life!
WOFF. And will you let me call you friend?
MABEL. Friend! no—not friend!
WOFF. Alas!
MABEL. Let me call you sister? I have no sister! (timidly and pleadingly)
WOFF. Sister! oh, yes! call me sister! (they embrace) You do not know what it is to me, whom the proud ones of the world pass by with averted looks, to hear that sacred name from lips as pure as yours. Let me hold you in my arms—so—a little while—if you knew the good it does me to feel your heart beating close to mine—(pause); and now to bring back this truant—how this heart flutters—you must compose yourself (goes to door leading to inner room and opens it). And I have need to be alone awhile (puts her in, comes forward and sits a moment with her hands pressed over her forehead). ’Twas a terrible wrench—but ’tis over; and now—“about my brains” as Hamlet says—to bring back the husband to his duty—what a strange office for a woman like me! How little the world knows about us after all (she sighs and sobs convulsively). I ought to feel very happy—pshaw! On with the mask and spangles, Peggy—and away with the fumes of this pleasant day-dream—how to bring Pomander hither? Let me see—this paper (takes paper Mabel sent up) signed in her hand; Mabel Vane—what if by its aid—I have it—pen—ink—one never can find writing materials in an author’s room (goes to door and calls). Triplet! (enter Triplet from inner room). Pens and ink—quick!
TRIP. (gets them, looking at her). Here, madam—and paper?
WOFF. No, I have that here (she writes—he watches her).
TRIP. Her eyes are red—and Mrs. Vane all of a flutter inside. There’s been a storm—but they haven’t torn each other in pieces, that’s one comfort. But has she relented, I wonder?
WOFF. Triplet! This note to Sir Charles Pomander.
TRIP. Madam (takes it). What is it, I wonder? However, ’tis not my business (going—pauses). But it is my business—I’m not a postman—if I carry letters I ought to know the contents (returns). Madam—
WOFF. Well!
TRIP. Madam—I—I—
WOFF. I see—you wish to know the contents of that letter—hear them: “Follow the bearer.”
TRIP. Madam!
WOFF. (reads). I am here without my husband’s knowledge.
TRIP. Mrs. Woffington!
WOFF. (reads). Alone and unprotected—signed “Mabel Vane.”
TRIP. Her own signature too! Mrs. Woffington—you are a great actress—you have been cruelly wronged—you have saved me from despair, and my children from starvation; but before I will carry that letter, I will have my hands hacked off at the wrists.
WOFF. (aside). What a good creature this is. Then you refuse to obey my orders.
TRIP. No! no! ask me to jump out of that window—to burn my favourite tragedy—to forswear pen and ink for ever—anything but carry that letter, and I will do it.
WOFF. Well—leave the letter! (Triplet runs for his hat) Where are you going?
TRIP. To bring the husband to his wife’s feet—and so to save one angel—that’s the lady in the other room—from despair; and another angel—that’s you, from a great crime. Trust poor Jemmy Triplet for once to bring this domestic drama to a happy denouement!
[ExitL.
WOFF. How innocently he helps my plot! I must have all the puppets under my hand. If I know Sir Charles, he is still on the watch (goes to window). Yes! (goes to inner door) Here—your eldest boy, Mrs. Triplet; I want him (enter LysimachusR.door). Lysimachus, you see that gentleman, run down—give him this letter—and then show him up here (exit LysimachusL.door). And now Mrs. Vane’s mantle, the hood well forward—so—we are nearly of a height—he does not know I am here—if I can but imitate her voice and rustic shyness—allons, Peggy ’tis seldom you acted in so good a cause (she assumes the air of Mrs. Vane).
[Enter Pomander behind—Woffington appears sunk in grief—he comes forward—she starts and gives a little shriek.]
POM. My dear Mrs. Vane (she shrinks). Do not be alarmed—loveliness neglected, and simplicity deceived, give irresistible claims to respect as well as adoration. Had fate given me this hand (he takes her hand)—
WOFF. Oh, please sir!
POM. Would I have abandoned it for that of aWoffington—as artificial and hollow a jade as ever winked at a side-box. Oh, had I been your husband, madam—how would I have revelled in the pastoral pleasures you so sweetly recalled yesterday—the Barbary mare—
WOFF. (timidly). Hen!
POM. Ah, yes, the Barbary hen; and old dame—dame—
WOFF. Best, please sir!
POM. Yes, Best—that happy though elderly female for whom you have condescended to make puddings.
WOFF. Alas, sir!
POM. You sigh! It is not yet too late to convert me. Upon this white hand I swear to become your pupil, as I am your adorer (he kisses it); let me thus fetter it with a worthy manacle. (Aside.What will innocence say to my five hundred guinea diamond?)
WOFF. La, sir! how pretty!
POM. Let me show how poor its lustre is to that of your eyes (he tries to draw back her hood).
WOFF. Oh, sir—hark! (she suddenly starts away and listens in an attitude of alarm).
POM. Ah! (noise without). Footsteps on the stairs! (goes to door and opens it, listening).
VANE(without). Another flight!
POM. Ha! Vane’s voice, by all that’s mal-à-propos; (Woffington screams and rushes into inner apartment) and now for Monsieur le mari (Triplet appears at the door leading to the staircase, with his back to the stage and speaking off).
TRIP. Have a care, sir! There is a hiatus in thefourth step—and now for the friend who waits to forget grief and suspicion in your arms—that friend is——
[Enter Vane—Triplet turns round and recognizes Pomander.]
The Devil!
POM. You flatter me!
VANE. So this is the mysterious rencontre—pray, Sir Charles, what is it you want to forget in my arms?
POM. In your arms! (Aside.Confounds himself with his wife.) Perhaps you had better explain, my friend?
TRIP. Nay, sir—be yours the pleasing duty!
VANE. In one word, Sir Charles Pomander, why are you here? and for what purpose am I sent for?
POM. In two words my dear fellow, I don’t choose to tell you why I am here—and ’twas not I who sent for you.
VANE(to Triplet). Speak, sirrah—your riddling message!
TRIP. There’s nothing for it but the truth. Then, sir—the friend I expected you would find here was Mrs.——
POM. (to Trip.). Stop, my deplorable-looking friend: (to Vane) when the answer to such a question begins with a mistress, I think you had better not enquire further: (to Trip.) Don’t complete the name.
VANE. I command you to complete it, or——
TRIP. Gentlemen, gentlemen, how am I to satisfy both of you?
POM. My dear Vane, remember it is a lady’s secret—the only thing in the world one is bound to keep, except one’s temper, which, by-the-bye, you’re losing rapidly.
VANE(aside). He spoke of griefs and suspicions to be forgiven and forgotten. Mabel has left my house. (crosses toC.) Sir Charles Pomander, I insist on knowing who this lady is. If it is as I fear, I have the best right to ask.
POM. But the worst right to be answered.
VANE. How am I to construe this tone, sir?
POM. Do as we did at school with a troublesome passage—don’t construe it at all.
VANE. Sir Charles Pomander, you are impertinent.
POM. My dear Vane, you are in a passion.
VANE. By heaven, sir——
TRIP. Gentlemen, gentlemen, I give you my word. Mr. Vane, she does not know of Sir Charles Pomander’s presence here.
VANE. She? s’death, who?
TRIP. Mrs. Vane!
VANE. My wife—here—and with him?
TRIP. No—not withhim!
POM. I regret to contradict you, my dilapidated friend, or to hurt you, my dear Vane; but really, in self-defence—you know this signature (offers paper written by Woffington).
VANE. Mabel’s hand!
POM. Yes—what my attentions began, your little peccadilloes finished—cause and effect, my dear fellow,—pure cause and effect.
VANE. Coxcomb and slanderer! draw and defend yourself.
[draws.
POM. If you will have it!
[draws.
TRIP. (throwing himself between them). Hold! hold!
(Woffington suddenly opens the inner room door, and presents herself at the threshold: her hood is drawn over her face).
TRIP. Mrs. Vane!
VANE. Mabel! wife! say that this is not true—that you were lured by stratagem. Oh, speak! belie this coxcomb! You know how bitterly I repented the infatuation that brought me to the feet of another.
(Woffington bursts into a laugh, and throws back the hood.)
POM. Woffington!
VANE. She here!
WOFF. There, Sir Charles, did I not wager he would confess he was heartily ashamed of himself? (crosses toC.)
TRIP. (aside). I have a glimmer of comprehension.
WOFF. Yes—we have had our laugh—and Mr. Vane his lesson; as for Mrs. Vane—this way, madam, and satisfy yourself.
(Mabel appears.)
MABEL. Ernest—dear Ernest!
VANE(sternly). Mabel, how came you here?
WOFF. In such very questionable company as a town rake and a profane stage-player? Mrs. Vane might have asked the same question yesterday. Why Mrs. Vane somehow fancied you had mislaid your heart in Covent Garden green-room, and that I hadfeloniously appropriated it: she came here in search of stolen goods—would you could rummage here, madam, and satisfy yourself if you still want proof, that I have no such thing as a heart about me—not even one of my own.
TRIP. I deny that—a better heart than Mrs. Woffington’s——
WOFF. What on earth do you know about it, man?
VANE(to Mabel). But this letter?
WOFF. Was written by me on a paper which by accident bore Mrs. Vane’s signature. The fact is, I had a wager with Sir Charles here—his diamond ring against my left-hand glove—that I could bewitch a certain country gentleman’s imagination, though his heart all the while belonged to its rightful owner, and I have won (sighs).
VANE. What a dupe I have been—am I enough humiliated?
POM. Ha! ha! ha! My poor fellow, you had better return to Huntingdonshire, and leave town and the players to us, who know how to deal with them.
WOFF. And are quite safe against being taken in—eh! Sir Charles? (points to ring on her finger).
POM. Oh, perfectly—we know each other’s cards—retain that ring as a mark of my——
(Woffington holds up her finger.)
POM. Respect!
WOFF. No, no—I accept your ring; but I shall always hate you.
POM. I welcome the sentiment—I can endure anything but your indifference.
VANE. And you, Mabel, will you forgive my infatuation?
MABEL. I forgive all, Ernest—(crosses to Woffington, aside to her) what do we not owe you, sister?
WOFF. Nothing that word does not pay for. (Aside) Alas! and so ends the game. You and I have the tricks, I think, Sir Charles—Mrs. Vane the honors.—Mr. Vane will quit hazard and the clubs for Willoughby Manor and the double dummy of a matrimonial rubber. As for me, I revoke my lead of hearts.
POM. After taking my ace of diamonds!
TRIP. And poor Jemmy Triplet I suppose must once again take up his solitary hand at patience.
WOFF. Unless Manager Rich is fool enough to accept my judgment for gospel—and then—but whom have we here?
[Enter Cibber, Quin, Mrs. Clive, Snarl and Soaper; Snarl and Soaper cross behind toR.H.]
CIB. Ah! Mrs. Vane—Mr. Vane—Sir Charles—Peggy—Bonjour, Mesdames et Messieurs—Mr. Triplet, I congratulate you—stap my vitals!
TRIP. Congratulate me!
CLIVE. Yes—Quin here, who’s a good natured bear, declares we behaved shamefully to you to-day, and so as Mr. Rich has just told us of your good fortune——
TRIP. My good fortune! there must be some mistake. You’ve come to the wrong house.
QUIN. No; you have a prospect henceforward ofdining every day of your life. ’Tis a great comfort, and I wish you appetite to enjoy it, Mr. Triplet.
TRIP. Am I awake? Pinch me, somebody—(Woffington pinches him) thank you—Iamawake.
CIB. Manager Rich, thanks to Peggy’s influence here, and a good word or two from one who shall be nameless, has accepted one of your tragedies.
TRIP. Oh, Lord!
SOAP. He! he! I give you joy, Mr. Triplet; Mr. Snarl and I are so glad, for as Mr. Snarl said to me, as we left your studio this morning, “I do so wish they’d play one of Mr. Triplet’s tragedies.”
SNARL. That I might have the pleasure of criticising it. Mr. Rich did me the honour to ask which of the three we should accept—I told him, the shortest.
CLIVE. You’ll be pleased to hear, Mrs. Woffington, there’s a capital part forme.(Aside) Now she could knock me down, I know.
TRIP. One of my tragedies accepted at last! Oh, gracious goodness! Break it gently to my wife—I know I’m dreaming, but prithee don’t anybody wake me. Oh, Mrs. Woffington—my guardian angel—my preserver! (seizes her hand)
WOFF. No, no—we had better wait, and see on which act of your tragedy the curtain falls.
TRIP. Ah! I forgot that.
MABEL. I need not wait to express my gratitude—say in what way can I ever thank you?
WOFF. Dear sister, when hereafter in your home of peace you hear harsh sentence passed on us, whose lot is admiration, but rarely love, triumph but nevertranquillity—think sometimes of poor Peg Woffington, and say, stage masks may cover honest faces, and hearts beat true beneath a tinselled robe—
Nor ours the sole gay masks that hide a face
Where care and tears have left their withering trace,
On the world’s stage, as in our mimic art,
We oft confound the actor with the part.
POM. Distrust appearances—an obvious moral—
With which, however, I’ve no time to quarrel;
Though for my part, I’ve found, the winning riders
In the world’s race are often the outsiders.
VANE. So I have played at love—witched from my will.
MAB. My love was always Ernest, and is still.
CIB. Pshaw! stap my vitals! “Manners make the man,”
They have mademe!
SNARL. ’Tis about all they can!
SOAP. Yes; Mr. Cibber’s epitaph shall be,
He played Lord Foppington at seventy-three.
CLIVE. I’m for plain speaking—let the truth be shown—
SNARL. Truth’s in a well—best leave that well alone—
QUIN. Its bitter waters why shouldyouuncork?
No; play like me—an honest knife and fork.
TRIP. That part would be well played by many a poet,
Had he the practice one must have, to know it,
But ’tis the verdict by the public past,
Must sentence scribblers or to feast or fast.
Be kind to-night: in triplet tone I sue,
As actor, manager, and author too.
POM. Mind that for sentence when they call the cause on,
You’ve at least one Peg here—to hang applause on.
WOFF. Yes; sure those kind eyes and bright smiles one traces,
Are not deceptivemasks—but honestfaces.
I’d swear it—but if your hands make it certain,
Then all is right on both sides of the curtain.
[CURTAIN FALLS.]
PRINTED BY HARRISON AND SONS,
LONDON GAZETTE OFFICE, ST. MARTIN’S LANE.