TRIP. Ha! it is in your face, madam. I should be proud to have your opinion of this trifle composed by me for Mr. Vane, in honour of the lady he expected this morning. MABEL (_aside_). Dear Ernest! how ungrateful I was. Nay, sir, I think I know the lady; and it would be hardly proper for me to hear them. TRIP. (_after placing the MS. by the side of his plate, with another plate to keep it open; laying his hand on his heart_). Oh, strictly correct, Madam. James Triplet never stooped to the loose taste of the town, even in trifles of this sort. (_Reads_) "When first from Albion's isle----" MABEL. Take another glass of wine first. TRIP. Madam, I will (_drinks_). I thank you infinitely. (_Reads_) "When first from Albion's isle----" MABEL. Another biscuit (_helps him_). TRIP. Madam (_eats a mouthful_), you do me infinite honour. (_Reads again_) "When first from Albion's isle----" MABEL. No--no--no! (_stops her ears._) Mr. Vane intended them for a surprise, and it would spoil his pleasure were I to hear them from you. TRIP. (_sighs_). As you please, madam! But you would have liked them, for the theme inspired me. The kindest, the most generous and gifted of women!--don't you agree with me, madam? MABEL (_laughs_). No, indeed! TRIP. Ah! if you knew her as I do. MABEL. I ought to know her better, sir. TRIP. Her kindness to me, for instance: a poor devil like me, if I may be allowed the expression. MABEL. Nay, you exaggerate her trifling act of civility. TRIP. (_reproachfully_). Act of civility, madam! Why she has saved me from despair--from starvation perhaps. MABEL (_aside_). Poor thing! how hungry he must have been. TRIP. And she's to sit to me for her portrait, too. MABEL. Her portrait! (_aside._) Oh, another attention of Ernest's--but I thought you were a poet, sir? TRIP. So I am, madam, from an epitaph to an epic. Let me convince you. (_Reads_) "When first from Albion's isle----" MABEL. But you spoke just now of painting. Are you a painter too? TRIP. From a scene to a sign-board; from a house-front to an historical composition. MABEL. Oh, what a clever man! And so Ernest commissioned you to paint this portrait? TRIP. No; for that I am indebted to the lady herself. MABEL. The lady? (_Rises_). TRIP. I expected to find her here;--perhaps you can inform me whether she is arrived? MABEL (_aside_). Not my portrait after all. Who? TRIP. Mrs. Woffington. MABEL. Woffington? No, there was no such name among the guests Mr. Vane received to-day. TRIP. That is strange! She was to be here; and therefore I expedited the verses in her honour. MABEL (_ruefully_). In _her_ honour? TRIP. Yes, Madam: the subject is "Genius trampling on Envy." It begins--(_reads_). "When first from Albion's Isle----" MABEL. Nay, I do not care to hear them, for I do not know the lady. TRIP. Few really know her; but at least you have seen her act. MABEL. Act! Is she an actress?