SOAP. But, my dear Mr. Snarl, if there are no shades, there are lights—loads of lights.
SNARL. There are, only they are impossible (superciliously). You have, however, succeeded tolerably in the mechanical parts—the dress, for example; but your Woffington is not a woman, Sir—nor nature!
(All shake their heads in assent.)
WOFF. (C.) Woman! for she has tricked four men; nature! for a fluent dunce does not know her when he sees her!
CIB. Why—what the deuce?
CLIVE. Woffington!
QUIN. Pheugh!
WOFF. (steps out of picture). A pretty face, and not like Woffington! I owe you two, Kitty Clive.
(Mrs. Clive bridles.)
(to Quin). Who ever saw Peggy’s real face? Look at it now if you can without blushing.