gravely inspected, they made more than one eye water, they were
undeniable.

"Well, let us see what we can do for her," said the Laureate. He tapped
his box and without a moment's hesitation produced the most execrable
distich in the language:

"Now who is like Peggy, with talent at will, A maid loved her Harry, _for
want of a Bill?

"Well, child," continued he, after the applause which follows extemporary
verses had subsided, "take _me_ in. Play something to make me lose sight
of saucy Peg Woffington, and I'll give the world five acts more before
the curtain falls on Colley Cibber."

"If you could be deceived," put in Mr. Vane, somewhat timidly; "I think
there is no disguise through which grace and beauty such as Mrs.
Woffington's would not shine, to my eyes."

"That is to praise my person at the expense of my wit, sir, is it not?"
was her reply.

This was the first word she had ever addressed to him. The tones appeared
so sweet to him that he could not find anything to reply for listening to
them; and Cibber resumed:

"Meantime, I will show you a real actress; she is coming here to-night to
meet me. Did ever you children hear of Ann Bracegirdle?"

"Bracegirdle!" said Mrs. Clive; "why, she has been dead this thirty