WOFF. Yes.
TRIP. And played the devil with their married happiness?
WOFF. Probably. (turns her back on him).
TRIP. Just my luck! Oh! Lord, Lord! To see what these fine gentlemen are! to have a lawful wife at home, and then to come and fall in love with you! I do it for ever in my plays, it is all right there!—but in real life it is abominable!
WOFF. You forget, sir, that I am an actress!—a plaything for every profligate who can find the open sesame of the stage-door. Fool! to think there was an honest man in the world, and that he had shone on me!
TRIP. Mrs. Woffington!
WOFF. But what have we to do (walks agitated) with homes, and hearths, and firesides? Have we not the theatre, its triumphs, and full-handed thunders of applause? Who looks for hearts beneath the masks we wear? These men applaud us, cajole us, swear to us, lie to us, and yet, forsooth, we would have them respect us too.
TRIP. (fiercely). They shall respect you before James Triplet. A great genius like you, so high above them all!—my benefactress (whimpers).
WOFF. (taking his hand). I thought this man truer than the rest. I did not feel his passion an insult. Oh! Triplet, I could have loved this man—really loved him!
TRIP. Then you don’t love him?