Nineteen _dramatis personae!_ What do you say, children, shall we cut out seven, or nine?
that is the question.

You can't bring your armies into our drawing-rooms, Mr.Dagger-and-bowl.

Are you the Marlborough of comedy?
Can you marshal battalions on a turkey carpet, and make gentlefolks witty in platoons?
What is this in the first act?
A duel, and both wounded! You butcher!" "They are not to die, ma'am!" cried Triplet, deprecatingly "upon my honor," said he, solemnly, spreading his bands on his bosom.
"Do you think I'll trust their lives with you?
No! Give me a pen; this is the way we run people through the body." Then she wrote ("business." Araminta looks out of the garret window.

Combatants drop their swords, put their hands to their hearts, and stagger off O.P.and P.S.) "Now, children, who helps me to lay the cloth ?" "I!" "And I!" (The children run to the cupboard.) _Mrs.Triplet_ (half rising).

"Madam, I--can't think of allowing you." Mrs.Woffington replied: "Sit down, madam, or I must use brute force.
If you are ill, be ill--till I make you well.