_Soaper._ "Mr. Cibber looks no older than he did five years ago."
_Snarl._ "There was no room on his face for a fresh wrinkle."
_Soaper._ "He! he! Nay, Mr. Snarl: Mr. Cibber is like old port; the more
ancient he grows, the more delicious his perfume."
_Snarl._ "And the crustier he gets."
_Clive._ "Mr. Vane, you should always separate those two. Snarl, by
himself, is just supportable; but, when Soaper paves the way with his
hypocritical praise, the pair are too much; they are a two-edged sword."
_Woffington._ "Wanting nothing but polish and point."
_Vane._ "Gentlemen, we abandon your neighbor, Mr. Quin, to you."
_Quin._ "They know better. If they don't keep a civil tongue in their
heads, no fat goes from here to them."
_Cibber._ "Ah, Mr. Vane; this room is delightful; but it makes me sad. I
knew this house in Lord Longueville's time; an unrivaled gallant, Peggy.
You may just remember him, Sir Charles?"
_Pomander_ (with his eye on a certain door). "Yes, yes; a gouty old
fellow."
Cibber fired up. "I wish you may ever be like him. Oh, the beauty, the
wit, the _petits-soupers_ that used to be here! Longueville was a great
creature, Mr. Vane. I have known him entertain a fine lady in this room,
while her rival was fretting and fuming on the other side of that door."
"Ah, indeed!" said Sir Charles.
"More shame for him," said Mr.
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