She then came at each
of them in turn, _more dramatico._
"A pretty face, and not like Woffington. I owe you two, Kate Clive."
"Who ever saw Peggy's real face? Look at it now if you can without
blushing, Mr. Quin."
Quin, a good-humored fellow, took the wisest view of his predicament, and
burst into a hearty laugh.
"For all this," said Mr. Snarl, peevishly, "I maintain, upon the
unalterable principles of art--" At this they all burst into a roar, not
sorry to shift the ridicule. "Goths!" cried Snarl, fiercely.
"Good-morning, ladies and gentlemen," cried Mr. Snarl, _avec intention,_
"I have a criticism to write of last night's performance." The laugh died
away to a quaver. "I shall sit on your pictures one day, Mr. Brush."
"Don't sit on them with your head downward, or you'll addle them," said
Mr. Brush, fiercely. This was the first time Triplet had ever answered a
foe. Mrs. Woffington gave him an eloquent glance of encouragement. He
nodded his head in infantine exultation at what he had done.
"Come, Soaper," said Mr. Snarl.
Mr. Soaper lingered one moment to say: "You shall always have my good
word, Mr. Triplet."
"I will try -- and not deserve it, Mr. Soaper," was the prompt reply.
"Serve 'em right," said Mr. Cibber, as soon as the door had closed upon
them; "for a couple of serpents, or rather one boa-constrictor. Soaper
slavers, for Snarl to crush.
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