She was tall and straight as a dart, and her noble port betrayed none of the weakness of age, only it was to be seen that her hands were a little weak, and the gold-headed crutch struck the ground rather sharply, as if it did a little limbs'-duty.
Such was the lady who marched into the middle of the room, with a "How do, Colley ?" and, looking over the company's heads as if she did not see them, regarded the four walls with some interest.

Like a cat, she seemed to think more of places than of folk.

The page obsequiously offered her a chair.
"Not so clean as it used to be," said Mrs.Bracegirdle.
Unfortunately, in making this remark, the old lady graciously patted the page's head for offering her the chair; and this action gave, with some of the ill-constituted minds that are ever on the titter, a ridiculous direction to a remark intended, I believe, for the paint and wanscots, etc.
"Nothing is as it used to be," remarked Mr.Cibber.
"All the better for everything," said Mrs.Clive.
"We were laughing at this mighty little David, first actor of this mighty little age." Now if Mr.Cibber thought to find in the newcomer an ally of the past in its indiscriminate attack upon the present, he was much mistaken; for the old actress made onslaught on this nonsense at once.
"Ay, ay," said she, "and not the first time by many hundreds.

'Tis a disease you have.

Cure yourself, Colley.