LETITIA. Fie! fie! Charlotte [_Stopping her mouth._]. I protest you are quite a libertine. CHARLOTTE. Why, my dear little prude, are we not all such libertines? Do you think, when I sat tortured two hours under the hands of my friseur, and an hour more at my toilet, that I had any thoughts of my aunt Susan, or my cousin Betsey? though they are both allowed to be critical judges of dress. LETITIA. Why, who should we dress to please, but those who are judges of its merits? CHARLOTTE. Why, a creature who does not know _Buffon_ from _Souflè_--Man!--my Letitia--Man! for whom we dress, walk, dance, talk, lisp, languish, and smile. Does not the grave Spectator assure us that even our much bepraised diffidence, modesty, and blushes are all directed to make ourselves good wives and mothers as fast as we can? Why, I'll undertake with one flirt of this hoop to bring more beaux to my feet in one week than the grave Maria, and her sentimental circle, can do, by sighing sentiment till their hairs are grey. LETITIA. Well, I won't argue with you; you always out-talk me; let us change the subject. I hear that Mr. Dimple and Maria are soon to be married. CHARLOTTE. You hear true. I was consulted in the choice of the wedding clothes. She is to be married in a delicate white satin, and has a monstrous pretty brocaded lutestring for the second day. It would have done you good to have seen with what an affected indifference the dear sentimentalist [turned over a thousand pretty things, just as if her heart did not palpitate with her approaching happiness, and at last made her choice and][4] arranged her dress with such apathy as if she did not know that plain white satin and a simple blond lace would shew her clear skin and dark hair to the greatest advantage. LETITIA. But they say her indifference to dress, and even to the gentleman himself, is not entirely affected. CHARLOTTE. How? LETITIA. It is whispered that if Maria gives her hand to Mr. Dimple, it will be without her heart. CHARLOTTE. Though the giving the heart is one of the last of all laughable considerations in the marriage of a girl of spirit, yet I should like to hear what antiquated notions the dear little piece of old-fashioned prudery has got in her head.