upon the stage look sleepy beside
Margaret Woffington's. In person she was considerably above the middle
height, and so finely formed that one could not determine the exact
character of her figure. At one time it seemed all stateliness, at
another time elegance personified, and flowing voluptuousness at
another. She was Juno, Psyche, Hebe, by turns, and for aught we know at
will.

It must be confessed that a sort of halo of personal grandeur surrounds
a great actress. A scene is set; half a dozen nobodies are there lost in
it, because they are and seem lumps of nothing. The great artist steps
upon that scene, and how she fills it in a moment! Mind and majesty wait
upon her in the air; her person is lost in the greatness of her personal
presence; she dilates with _thought,_ and a stupid giantess looks a
dwarf beside her.

No wonder then that Mr. Vane felt overpowered by this torch in a closet.
To vary the metaphor, it seemed to him, as she swept up and down, as if
the green-room was a shell, and this glorious creature must burst it
and be free. Meantime, the others saw a pretty actress studying her
business; and Cibber saw a dramatic school-girl learning what he
presumed to be a very silly set of words. Sir C. Pomander's eye had
been on her the moment she entered, and he watched keenly the effect of
Vane's eloquent eulogy; but apparently the actress was too deep in her
epilogue for anything else. She came in, saying, "Mum, mum, mum," over
her task, and she went on doing so. The experienced Mr. Cibber, who had
divined Vane in an instant, drew him into a corner, and complimented him
on his well-timed eulogy.

"You acted that mighty well, sir," said he. "Stop my vitals! if I did
not think you were in earnest, till I saw the jade had slipped in among
us. It told, sir--it told."

Up fired Vane. "What do you mean, sir?" said he. "Do you suppose my
admiration of that lady is feigned?"

"No need to speak so loud, sir," replied the old gentleman; "she hears
you. These hussies have ears like hawks."

He then dispensed a private wink and a public bow; with which he
strolled away from Mr. Vane, and walked feebly and jauntily up the
room, whistling "Fair Hebe;" fixing his eye upon the past, and somewhat
ostentatiously overlooking the existence of the present company.

There is no great harm in an old gentleman whistling, but there are two
ways of doing it; and as this old beau did it, it seemed not unlike a
small cock-a-dood