TRIP. Am I awake? Pinch me, somebody--(_Woffington pinches him_) thank you--I _am_ awake. CIB. Manager Rich, thanks to Peggy's influence here, and a good word or two from one who shall be nameless, has accepted one of your tragedies. TRIP. Oh, Lord! SOAP. He! he! I give you joy, Mr. Triplet; Mr. Snarl and I are so glad, for as Mr. Snarl said to me, as we left your studio this morning, "I do so wish they'd play one of Mr. Triplet's tragedies." SNARL. That I might have the pleasure of criticising it. Mr. Rich did me the honour to ask which of the three we should accept--I told him, the shortest. CLIVE. You'll be pleased to hear, Mrs. Woffington, there's a capital part for _me._ (_Aside_) Now she could knock me down, I know. TRIP. One of my tragedies accepted at last! Oh, gracious goodness! Break it gently to my wife--I know I'm dreaming, but prithee don't anybody wake me. Oh, Mrs. Woffington--my guardian angel--my preserver! (_seizes her hand_) WOFF. No, no--we had better wait, and see on which act of your tragedy the curtain falls. TRIP. Ah! I forgot that. MABEL. I need not wait to express my gratitude--say in what way can I ever thank you? WOFF. Dear sister, when hereafter in your home of peace you hear harsh sentence passed on us, whose lot is admiration, but rarely love, triumph but never tranquillity--think sometimes of poor Peg Woffington, and say, stage masks may cover honest faces, and hearts beat true beneath a tinselled robe-- Nor ours the sole gay masks that hide a face Where care and tears have left their withering trace, On the world's stage, as in our mimic art, We oft confound the actor with the part. POM. Distrust appearances--an obvious moral-- With which, however, I've no time to quarrel; Though for my part, I've found, the winning riders In the world's race are often the outsiders. VANE. So I have played at love--witched from my will. MAB. My love was always Ernest, and is still. CIB. Pshaw! stap my vitals! "Manners make the man," They have made _me!_ SNARL. 'Tis about all they can! SOAP. Yes; Mr. Cibber's epitaph shall be, He played Lord Foppington at seventy-three. CLIVE. I'm for plain speaking--let the truth be shown-- SNARL. Truth's in a well--best leave that well alone-- QUIN. Its bitter waters why should _you_ uncork? No; play like me--an honest knife and fork. TRIP. That part would be well played by many a poet, Had he the practice one must have, to know it, But 'tis the verdict by the public past, Must sentence scribblers or to feast or fast. Be kind to-night: in triplet tone I sue, As actor, manager, and author too. POM. Mind that for sentence when they call the cause on, You've at least one Peg here--to hang applause on.