er of the
street.

"Mother," said Alcibiades, "will the lady give me a bit of her pie?"

"Hush! you rude boy!" cried the mother.

"She is not much of a lady if she does not," cried Mrs. Woffington.
"Now, children, first let us look at--ahem--a comedy. Nineteen _dramatis
personae!_ What do you say, children, shall we cut out seven, or
nine? that is the question. You can't bring your armies into our
drawing-rooms, Mr. Dagger-and-bowl. Are you the Marlborough of comedy?
Can you marshal battalions on a turkey carpet, and make gentlefolks
witty in platoons? What is this in the first act? A duel, and both
wounded! You butcher!"

"They are not to die, ma'am!" cried Triplet, deprecatingly "upon my
honor," said he, solemnly, spreading his bands on his bosom.

"Do you think I'll trust their lives with you? No! Give me a pen; this
is the way we run people through the body." Then she wrote ("business."
Araminta looks out of the garret window. Combatants drop their swords,
put their hands to their hearts, and stagger off O. P. and P. S.) "Now,
children, who helps me to lay the cloth?"

"I!"

"And I!" (The children run to the cupboard.)

_Mrs. Triplet_ (half rising). "Madam, I--can't think of allowing you."

Mrs. Woffington replied: "Sit down, madam, or I must use brute force.
If you are ill, be ill--till I make you well. Twelve plates, quick!
Twenty-four knives, quicker! Forty-eight forks quickest!" She met the
children with the cloth and laid it; then she met them again and laid
knives and forks, all at full gallop, which mightily excited the bairns.
Pompey came in with the pie, Mrs. Woffington took it and set it before
Triplet.

_Mrs. Woffington._ "Your coat, Mr. Triplet, if you please."

_Mr. Triplet._ "My coat, madam!"

_Mrs. Woffington._ "Yes, off with it--there's a hole in it--and carve."
Then she whipped to the other end of the table and stitched like
wild-fire. "Be pleased to cast your eyes on that, Mrs. Triplet. Pass
it to the lady, young gentleman. Fire away, Mr. Triplet, never mind us
women. Woffington's housewife, ma'am, fearful to the eye, only it holds
everything in the world, and there is a small space for everything
else--to be returned by the bearer. Thank you, sir." (Stitches away like
lightning at the coat.) "Eat away, children! now is your time; when once
I begin, the pie will soon end; I do everything so quick."

_Roxalana._ "The lady sews quicker than you, mother."

_Woffington._ "Bless the ch