TRIP. No! I came with my verses, but she said you were not there. WOFF. Who said so? TRIP. The charming young lady who helped me with her own hand to nectar and ambrosia. WOFF. A young lady? TRIP. About twenty-two. WOFF. In a travelling dress? TRIP. Yes--brown hair--blue eyes! I poured out all to her;--that I expected to find you; that Mr. Vane admired you; and that you were sitting to me for your portrait; that I lived at 10, Hercules Buildings, and should be proud to show her the picture for her judgment. WOFF. You told her all this? TRIP. I did. Do you know her? WOFF. Yes. TRIP. Who is she? WOFF. Mrs. Vane. TRIP. Mrs. Vane! Mr. Vane's mother? No--no! that can't be! WOFF. Mr. Vane's wife! TRIP. Wife? WOFF. Yes. TRIP. Then she wasn't to know you were there? WOFF. No. TRIP. Then I let the cat out of the bag? WOFF. Yes. TRIP. And played the devil with their married happiness? WOFF. Probably. (_turns her back on him_). TRIP. Just my luck! Oh! Lord, Lord! To see what these fine gentlemen are! to have a lawful wife at home, and then to come and fall in love with you! _I_ do it for ever in my plays, it is all right there!--but in real life it is abominable! WOFF. You forget, sir, that I am an actress!--a plaything for every profligate who can find the open sesame of the stage-door. Fool! to think there was an honest man in the world, and that he had shone on me! TRIP. Mrs. Woffington! WOFF. But what have we to do (_walks agitated_) with homes, and hearths, and firesides? Have we not the theatre, its triumphs, and full-handed thunders of applause? Who looks for hearts beneath the masks we wear? These men applaud us, cajole us, swear to us, lie to us, and yet, forsooth, we would have them respect us too. TRIP. (_fiercely_). They shall respect you before James Triplet. A great genius like you, so high above them all!--my benefactress (_whimpers_). WOFF. (_taking his hand_). I thought this man truer than the rest. I did not feel his passion an insult. Oh! Triplet, I could have loved this man--really loved him! TRIP. Then you don't love him? WOFF. Love him! I hate him, and her, and all the world! TRIP. You will break with him then? WOFF. Break with him! No! I will feed his passion to the full--tempt him--torture him--play with him, as the angler plays the fish upon his hook! He shall rue the hour he trifled with a heart and brain like mine! TRIP. But his poor wife? WOFF. His wife! and are wives' hearts the only hearts that throb, and feel, and break? His wife must take care of herself, it is not from me that mercy can come to her. TRIP. But madam--(_a knock at door_). Who's this at such a moment (_he goes to the window_)! 'Tis a lady! Eh! cloaked and hooded. Who can she be? Perhaps a sitter! My new profession has transpired! [_A tap at room-door. Enter a slatternly servant, who hands a paper._] SERV. From a lady who waits below. TRIP. (_reads and drops the paper_). "Mabel Vane!"