POM. My dear Arcadian, I am here to receive her answer. (_Vane crosses to L. H._) You had better wait for it before making your avowal. VANE. That avowal is made already; but I will wait, if but to see what a lesson the calumniated actress can read to the fine gentleman. [_Exit L. H._ POM. The lesson will be set by me--Woffington will learn it immediately. It is so simple, only three words, _£. s. d._ [_Exit L. H._ TRIPLET (_speaking outside_). Mr. Rich not in the theatre? Well, my engagements will allow of my waiting for a few minutes. (_Enter Triplet and Call-Boy L. Triplet has a picture wrapped in baize and without a frame._) And if you will just let me know when Mr. Rich arrives (_winks--touches his pocket_). Heaven forgive me for raising groundless expectations! CALL-BOY. What name, sir? TRIP. Mr. Triplet. CALL-BOY. Triplet! There is something left for you in the hall, sir. [_Exit Call-Boy L._ TRIP. I knew it, I sent him three tragedies. They are accepted; and he has left me a note in the hall, to fix the reading--at last. I felt it must come, soon or late; and it has come--late. Master of three arts, painting, writing, and acting, by each of which men grow fat, how was it possible I should go on perpetually starving. But that is all over now. My tragedies will be acted, the town will have an intellectual treat, and my wife and children will stab my heart no more with their hungry looks. [_Enter Call-Boy with parcel._] CALL-BOY. Here is the parcel for you, sir. [_Exit Call-Boy L._ TRIP. (_weighs it in his hand_). Why, how is this? Oh, I see; he returns them for some trifling alterations. Well, if they are judicious, I shall certainly adopt them, for (_opening the parcel_) managers are practical men. My tragedies!--Eh? here are but two! one is accepted!--no! they are all here (_sighs_). Well, (_spitefully_) it is a thousand pounds out of Mr. Rich's pocket, poor man! I pity him; and my hungry mouths at home! Heaven knows where I am to find bread for them to-morrow! Everything that will raise a shilling I have sold or pawned. Even my poor picture here, the portrait of Mrs. Woffington from memory--I tried to sell that this morning at every dealer's in Long Acre--and not one would make me an offer. [_Enter Woffington L. reciting from a part._] WOFF. "Now by the joys Which my soul still has uncontroll'd pursued, I would not turn aside from my least pleasure. Though all thy force were armed to bar my way." TRIP. (_aside, R._). Mrs. Woffington, the great original of my picture! WOFF. (L.) "But like the birds, great nature's happy commoners Rifle the sweets"--I beg your pardon, sir! TRIP. Nay, madam, pray continue; happy the hearer and still happier the author of verses so spoken. WOFF. Yes, if you could persuade the authors how much they owe us, and how hard it is to find good music for indifferent words. Are you an author, sir? TRIP. In a small way, madam; I have here three tragedies.