Letit. Laws! Papa, do come along. If you stand watching, how can my Sweetheart break his mind, and tell me how he admires me?
Doric. That would be difficult, indeed, Madam.
Hardy. I tell you, Letty, I'll have no more of this.——I see well enough——
Letit. Laws! don't snub me before my Husband—that is to be.—You'll teach him to snub me too,—and I believe, by his looks, he'd like to begin now.—So, let us go, Cousin; you may tell the Gentleman what a genus I have—how I can cut Watch-papers, and work Cat-gut; make Quadrille-baskets with Pins, and take Profiles in Shade; ay, as well as the Lady at No. 62, South Moulton-street, Grosvenor-square.
[Exit Hardy and Letitia.
Mrs. Rack. What think you of my painting, now?
Doric. Oh, mere water-colours, Madam! The Lady has caricatured your picture.
Mrs. Rack. And how does she strike you on the whole?
Doric. Like a good Design, spoiled by the incapacity of the Artist. Her faults are evidently the result of her Father's weak indulgence. I observed an expression in her eye, that seemed to satyrise the folly of her lips.
Mrs. Rack. But at her age, when Education is fixed, and Manner becomes Nature—hopes of improvement—