rick steadfastly refused to regard her simply
as a vain, flighty, and vacillating person. He was rewarded by being
the only man whom she ever seriously thought of marrying.

Her mode of life was not conducive to the furtherance of her health,
and at the comparatively early age of thirty-seven years her friends
saw a change both in the demeanor and the appearance of the witty
woman. The seeds of an internal disorder had been sown, but, with
her usual recklessness, she failed to heed the premonitions of nature
until the malady was too far advanced for cure. At about this time
the famous John Wesley was stirring London with his preaching. She
attended his chapel through curiosity, and afterward from conviction.
She was clearheaded and honest enough to see the force of the
religious truth which he presented, and was brought quite under the
influence of the great preacher. As a result of the awakening of her
religious nature, she determined on the reformation of her private
life, although she does not appear to have linked with that the
purpose of quitting her profession. She resolved, however, not to
remain before the public until they tired of her. As she herself
expressed it: "I will never destroy my reputation by clinging to the
shadow after the substance is gone. When I can no longer bound on the
boards with elastic step, and when the enthusiasm of the public begins
to show symptoms of decay, that night will be the last appearance of
Margaret Woffington."

She was not destined to remain before the public until they wearied of
her; on May 3, 1757, she appeared as Rosalind in _As You Like It_. The
circumstances of the tragic close of her dramatic career, as quoted
from a contemporary writer in Blackburn's _Illustrious Irish Women_,
were as follows: "She went through Rosalind for four acts without
my perceiving she was in the least disordered; but in the fifth she
complained of great indisposition. I offered her my arm, the which she
graciously accepted; I thought she looked softened in her behaviour,
and had less of the hauteur. When she came off at the quick change
of dress, she again complained of being ill, but got accoutred,
and returned to finish the part, and pronounced in the epilogue
speech,--'If it be true that good wine needs no bush, it is as true
that a good play needs no epilogue,' &c., &c. But when she arrived at
'If I were among you, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that
pleased me,' her voice br