Harriet. I have no Objection to a pinch of snuff, Ma'am. (Takes snuff)
Lady Betty. Look ye there, now, that's not the way to take Snuff. The thing does not consist in stuffing it up the Nostrils, as if you were gormandizing upon it—with your Arm lifted up, and your Head shrunk down, just as if you were frighten'd at something—but it must be introduced as a grace to Conversation. Now observe me—I make the most of my Person—hold my Head up with an air. Then suppose me in the middle of a story about an Amour, or the French Court, or a new fashion, or what you will—then I open my Snuff-box, then look at myself in the glass, and reclaim a straggling Hair—then I proceed. I wave my Arm out to its full length, then I gradually bring it to, forming a graceful Semicircle, and never move my head towards my hand—thus (Mimicks) but I make my hand pay its devoirs to my head—thus. (Mimicks) Then I apply my fingers with the utmost delicatesse—and I smile—I smile and look as if I were thinking—and then I don't souse my hand down at once, thus—(Mimicks) but I restore it to its place in the same graceful manner—thus—you see now the Semicircle opens. Then with an elegant turn of my wrist, I drop my Arm in a gentle dying—dying fall.
Harriet. Well now as I live and breathe, my Lady Betty I never cou'd have thought there was so much Consequence in a Trifle.
Lady Betty. Trifle! Trifles are the most important things in Life. The Beau Monde is made up of Trifles—Paris is made up of Trifles—I am made up of Trifles—the French are all Trifles, and so vive la Bagatelle. But my dear Madamoiselle Harriet you're a perfect corpse child, let me put on a little Rouge—no, I have none about me; and then your Cap (Takes off a very small one)—fie, done, it's large enough for a Soapboiler's Wife—here let me put this Bouquet in your Hair. There, now you have Cap enough—the Creature looked odiously handsome before—I cou'd not bear it.
Harriet. Dear Ma'am, but I'm afraid I shall take cold.
Lady Betty. Cold! What then? If you do, you'll be in the fashion. But I assure you, child, you must voyage, indeed, and 'till you do, I lend you one of my faces to keep you in Countenance.
Harriet. Ma'am I am very much oblig'd to you, but Heav'n has given me a face.
Lady Betty. Heav'n has given you a face! He! He! He! Well to be sure that notion is downright Insulaire, fit only for an Island—the Sentiments of the Continent, I assure you my dear are much sublimer. Heav'n has given you a face—but I'll give you a better face, you shall have one of mine—how do you like this face? It has been generally taken notice of. They may talk what they will of their great Painters—my brush exceeds 'em all—the Coloring is so mellow, and so rich and so glowing—
Harriet. Ma'am as for your coloring, nobody can dispute it—but don't your Ladyship think a great Painter can draw a little more like the life?
Lady Betty. Like the life! That's a cold northern Sentiment again—why can't you see that if it were like the life one might soon become an old face? Now I like to be a new face every day—then the men cry, what a deal of sweetness my Lady Betty has in her face—ay, and what a deal of fire—and what a deal of meaning—and what a—and what a Je ne sais quoi! But I shall lay aside this face soon, and you shall have the preference of it.