badly off."

"Well said, sir," answered Quin; "and I wish Kitty here would tell us
why she hates Mrs. Woffington, the best-natured woman in the theater?"

"I don't hate her, I don't trouble my head about her."

"Yes, you hate her; for you never miss a cut at her!"

"Do you hate a haunch of venison, Quin?" said the lady.

"No, you little unnatural monster," replied Quin.

"For all that, you never miss a cut at one, so hold your tongue!"

"Le beau raisonnement!" said Mr. Cibber. "James Quin, don't interfere
with nature's laws; let our ladies hate one another, it eases their
minds; try to make them Christians, and you will not convert their
tempers, but spoil your own. Peggy there hates George Anne Bellamy,
because she has gaudy silk dresses from Paris, by paying for them, as
_she_ could, if not too stingy. Kitty here hates Peggy because Rich has
breeched her, whereas Kitty, who now sets up for a prude, wanted to put
delicacy off and small-clothes on in Peg's stead, that is where the Kate
and Peg shoe pinches, near the femoral artery, James.

"Shrimps have the souls of shrimps," resumed this _censor castigatorque
minorum._ "Listen to me, and learn that really great actors are great in
soul, and do not blubber like a great school-girl because Anne Bellamy
has two yellow silk dresses from Paris, as I saw Woffington blubber
in this room, and would not be comforted; nor fume like Kitty Clive,
because Woffington has a pair of breeches and a little boy's rapier to
go a playing at acting with. When I was young, two giantesses fought
for empire upon this very stage, where now dwarfs crack and bounce like
parched peas. They played Roxana and Statira in the 'Rival Queens.'
Rival queens of art themselves, they put out all their strength. In the
middle of the last act the town gave judgment in favor of Statira. What
did Roxana? Did she spill grease on Statira's robe, as Peg Woffington
would? or stab her, as I believe Kitty here capable of doing? No!
Statira was never so tenderly killed as that night; she owned this to
me. Roxana bade the theater farewell that night, and wrote to Statira
thus: I give you word for word: 'Madam, the best judge we have has
decided in your favor. I shall never play second on a stage where I have
been first so long, but I shall often be a spectator, and methinks none
will appreciate your talent more than I, who have felt its weight. My
wardrobe, one of the best in Europe, is of no use to me; if you