“FOP.  Why, really, madame, upon second view, it has not extremely the mode of a lady’s utensil:  are you sure it never held anything but snuff?

“LADY BETTY.  O! you monster!

“FOP.  Nay, I only ask because it seems to me to have very much the air and fancy of Monsieur Smoakandfot’s tobacco-box.

“MORE.  I can bear no more.

“SIR CHARLES.  Why don’t then; I’ll step into the company and return to your relief immediately.

[Exit.

“MORE. [To LADY BETTY.] Come, madame, will your ladyship give me leave to end the difference?  Since the slightness of the thing may let you bestow it without any mark of favour, shall I beg it of your ladyship?

“LADY BETTY.  O my lord, no body sooner.  I beg you give it my lord.

[Looking earnestly on LORD FOPPINGTON, who, smiling, gives it to LORD MORELOVE and then bows gravely to her].

“MORE.  Only to have the honour of restoring it to your lordship; and if there be any other trifle of mine your lordship has a fancy to, tho’ it were a mistress, I don’t know any person in the world who has so good a claim to my resignation.”

* * * * *

In the hands of Powell, Cibber, and Oldfield this scene must have had all the sparkle of champagne; but let us hope, speaking of wine, that the prince of paragons, Morelove, was perfectly sober.  Or shall we say comparatively sober?—­for when bibulous George had just a dash of spirits within him (and that was nearly always) there came a roseate hue to his acting which rather added to its romantic colour.  Sometimes this colour was laid on too garishly, as the supply of fire-water happened to be larger,[A] and Sir John Vanbrugh has himself left it on record that Powell, as Worthy, came well nigh spoiling the original production of the “Relapse.”  “I own,” writes Sir John, “the first night this thing was acted, some indecencies had like to have happened; but it was not my fault.  The fine gentleman of the play, drinking his mistress’s health in Nantes brandy, from six in the morning to the time he waddled up upon the stage in the evening, had toasted himself up to such a pitch of vigour, I confess I once gave up Amanda for gone; and am since, with all due respect to Mrs. Rogers, very sorry she escaped; for I am confident a certain lady (let no one take it to herself that is handsome) who highly blames the play, for the barrenness of the conclusion, would then have allowed it a very natural close.”  It should be added that the Mrs. Rogers herein mentioned as playing Amanda was a capable tragic actress whose ambition it was to enact none but virtuous women.  Her own virtue—­but we are dipping into scandal.[B]

[Footnote A:  To the folly of intoxication he added the horrors of debt, and was so hunted by the sheriffs’ officers that he usually walked the streets with a sword (sheathed) in his hand; and if he saw any of them at a distance, he would roar out, “Get on the other side of the way, you dog!” The bailiff, who knew his old customer, would obligingly answer, “We do not want you now, Master Powell.”  EDMUND BELLCHAMBERS.]