"
"Where, sir?" said Mr. Cibber.
"About here, sir, if you please," said poor Triplet faintly.
"It looks like a finished picture from here," said Mrs. Clive.
"Yes, madam," groaned Triplet.
They all took up a position, and Triplet timidly raised his eyes along
with the rest. He was a little surprised. The actress had flattened her
face! She had done all that could be done, and more than he had conceived
possible, in the way of extracting life and the atmosphere of expression
from her countenance. She was "dead still!"
There was a pause. Triplet fluttered. At last some of them spoke as
follows:
_Soaper._ "Ah!"
_Quin._ "Ho!"
_Clive._ "Eh!"
_Cibber._ "Humph!"
These interjections are small on paper, but as the good creatures uttered
them they were eloquent; there was a cheerful variety of dispraise
skillfully thrown into each of them.
"Well," continued Soaper, with his everlasting smile.
Then the fun began.
"May I be permitted to ask whose portrait this is?" said Mr. Cibber
slyly.
"I distinctly told you, it was to be Peg Woffington's," said Mrs. Clive.
"I think you might take my word."
"Do you act as truly as you paint?" said Quin.
"Your fame runs no risk from me, sir!" replied Triplet.
"It is not like Peggy's beauty! Eh?" rejoined Quin.
"I can't agree with you," cried Kitty Clive. "I think it a very pretty
face; and not at all like Peg Woffington's.
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