"Bracegirdle," said Mr. Cibber.

It may well be supposed that every eye was turned on this newcomer--that
Roxana for whom Mr. Cibber's story had prepared a peculiar interest. She
was dressed in a rich green velvet gown with gold fringe. Cibber
remembered it; she had played the "Eastern Queen" in it. Heaven forgive
all concerned! It was fearfully pinched in at the waist and ribs, so as
to give the idea of wood inside, not woman.

Her hair and eyebrows were iron-gray, and she had lost a front tooth, or
she would still have been eminently handsome. She was tall and straight
as a dart, and her noble port betrayed none of the weakness of age, only
it was to be seen that her hands were a little weak, and the gold-headed
crutch struck the ground rather sharply, as if it did a little
limbs'-duty.

Such was the lady who marched into the middle of the room, with a "How
do, Colley?" and, looking over the company's heads as if she did not see
them, regarded the four walls with some interest. Like a cat, she seemed
to think more of places than of folk. The page obsequiously offered her a
chair.

"Not so clean as it used to be," said Mrs. Bracegirdle.

Unfortunately, in making this remark, the old lady graciously patted the
page's head for offering her the chair; and this action gave, with some
of the ill-constituted minds that are ever on the titter, a ridiculous
direction to a remark intended, I believe, for the paint and wanscots,
etc.