Mrs. Bennet: How well you dance, Mr. Bingley. My daughter Jane is a splendid dancer, is she not?
Bingley: She is indeed. (to Elizabeth) Your friend Miss Lucas is a most amusing young woman.
Elizabeth: Oh, yes, I adore her.
Mrs. Bennet: It is a pity she's not more handsome.
Mrs. Bennet: Oh, but Lizzie would never admit that she's plain. Of course it's my Jane who's considered the beauty of the county.
Elizabeth & Jane: No, Mama, please!
Mrs. Bennet: When she was 15, a gentleman was so much in love with her, that I was sure he would make her an offer. However, he did write her some very pretty verses.
Elizabeth: And that put paid to it. I wonder who discovered the power of poetry in driving away love.
Darcy: I thought poetry was the food of love.
Elizabeth: Of a fine, stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination one poor sonnet will kill it.
Darcy: So what do you recommend to encourage affection?
Elizabeth: Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable.
Jane: Mr Bingley is just what a young man ought to be. Sensible, good-humoured...
Elizabeth: Handsome, conveniently rich...
Jane: You know perfectly well I do not believe marriage should be driven
by thoughts of money.
Elizabeth: I agree entirely. Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why I'll end up an old maid.
Jane: Do you really believe he liked me, Lizzie?
Elizabeth: Jane, he danced with you most of the night, and stared at you for the rest of it. But I give you leave to like him. You've liked many a stupider person. You're a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know. All the world is good and agreeable in your eyes.
Jane: Not his friend. I still can't believe what he said about you.
Elizabeth: Mr. Darcy? I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine. But no matter, I doubt we shall ever speak again.
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