"Nothing is as it used to be," remarked Mr. Cibber.

"All the better for everything," said Mrs. Clive.

"We were laughing at this mighty little David, first actor of this mighty
little age."

Now if Mr. Cibber thought to find in the newcomer an ally of the past in
its indiscriminate attack upon the present, he was much mistaken; for the
old actress made onslaught on this nonsense at once.

"Ay, ay," said she, "and not the first time by many hundreds. 'Tis a
disease you have. Cure yourself, Colley. Davy Garrick pleases the public;
and in trifles like acting, that take nobody to heaven, to please all the
world, is to be great. Some pretend to higher aims, but none have 'em.
You may hide this from young fools, mayhap, but not from an old 'oman
like me. He! he! he! No, no, no--not from an old 'oman like me."

She then turned round in her chair, and with that sudden, unaccountable
snappishness of tone to which the brisk old are subject, she snarled:
"Gie me a pinch of snuff, some of ye, do!"

Tobacco dust was instantly at her disposal. She took it with the points
of her fingers delicately, and divested the crime of half its uncleanness
and vulgarity-- more an angel couldn't.

"Monstrous sensible woman, though!" whispered Quin to Clive.

"Hey, sir! what do you say, sir? for I'm a little deaf." (Not very to