_Mrs. Rack._ I could not sleep for thinking of my coach, my liveries, and my chairmen; the taste of clothes I should be presented in, distracted me for a week; and whether I should be married in white or lilac, gave me the most cruel anxiety. _Letit._ And is it possible that you felt no other care? _Hardy._ And pray, of what sort may your cares be, Mrs. Letitia? I begin to foresee now that you have taken a dislike to Doricourt. _Letit._ Indeed, Sir, I have not. _Hardy._ Then what's all this melancholy about? A'n't you going to be married? and, what's more, to a sensible man? and, what's more to a young girl, to a handsome man? And what's all this melancholy for, I say? _Mrs. Rack._ Why, because he _is_ handsome and sensible, and because she's over head and ears in love with him; all which, it seems, your foreknowledge had not told you a word of. _Letit._ Fye, Caroline! _Hardy._ Well, come, do you tell me what's the matter then? If you don't like him, hang the signing and sealing, he sha'n't have ye:--and yet I can't say that neither; for you know that estate, that cost his father and me upwards of fourscore thousand pounds, must go all to him if you won't have him: if he won't have you, indeed, 'twill be all yours. All that's clear, engross'd upon parchment, and the poor dear man set his hand to it whilst he was a dying.--"Ah!" said I, "I foresee you'll never live to see 'em come together; but their first son shall be christened Jeremiah after you, that I promise you."----But come, I say, what is the matter? Don't you like him? _Letit._ I fear, Sir--if I must speak--I fear I was less agreeable in Mr. Doricourt's eyes, than he appeared in mine. _Hardy._ There you are mistaken; for I asked him, and he told me he liked you vastly. Don't you think he must have taken a fancy to her? _Mrs. Rack._ Why really I think so, as I was not by. _Letit._ My dear Sir, I am convinced he has not; but if there is spirit or invention in woman, he shall. _Hardy._ Right, Girl; go to your toilette-- _Letit._ It is not my toilette that can serve me: but a plan has struck me, if you will not oppose it, which flatters me with brilliant success. _Hardy._ Oppose it! not I indeed! What is it? _Letit._ Why, Sir--it may seem a little paradoxical; but, as he does not like me enough, I want him to like me still less, and will at our next interview endeavour to heighten his indifference into dislike. _Hardy._ Who the devil could have foreseen that? _Mrs. Rack._ Heaven and earth! Letitia, are you serious? _Letit._ As serious as the most important business of my life demands. _Mrs. Rack._ Why endeavour to make him dislike you? _Letit._ Because 'tis much easier to convert a sentiment into its opposite, than to transform indifference into tender passion. _Mrs. Rack._ That may be good philosophy, but I am afraid you'll find it a bad maxim.