(Chuck Bingley has suggested to his friend, Mr. Big, that he might want to dance with the 'smart' Bennet sister - Mr. Big might, not Chuck. Chuck is already salivating after the pretty sister.)
Me? Dance with that? I'd rather eat dog mange than dance with that...that...person. She possesses absolutely no attractive aspect in my eyes, Bingley - no grace, no proper attire, no acceptable coif nor cap nor even turban with a smart feather...she also has no feet as far as I can see since her gown is so drab that my gaze refuses to linger for the usual rakish up and down perusal. The gall! I think she just stuck her tongue out at me - she could be rabid. Where's my pistol when I need it...?
I'm certain it was nothing personal, Big; probably gas...please calm yourself. Here allow me to lick your boots again, and please try to keep your voice down - I believe she may have heard that last comment of yours and that may interfere with my deflowering her sister later in the story. She's not that bad looking is she? Not in a dark light - or better yet no light...
Nonsense. I'm going to dance only with your sister Caroline. At least I am half way assured I won't need a series of shots later Ah, here she is...
I'm going to be requiring a good deal of alchohol tonight, Bingley.
Did you hear what he said about you Lizzy? What a GREAT honor to be noticed by a man of his shoe size.
Mama, your hair is curled much too tightly. THAT was an insult to our entire family - don't you understand? Are you entirely devoid of sensitivity and good breeding...oh, never mind, I forgot for a moment to whom I was speaking. No I shall show that man what a truly elegant female I am. I'll rip him to shreds.
Don't be hasty, Lizzy. I'm certain Mr. Big meant what he said in the kindest of ways.
I feel like the meat in an idiot sandwich. You cannot be serious, Jane. He intimated I was rabid!
Oh, Lizzy, I am certain you misunderstood him. Perhaps he said vapid.
Shut up, Jane. I will have a good deal to say about our Mr. Big tomorrow in my Sex in the Backseat of the Barouche column...mother please stop cleaning your teeth with your knife!
Just don't harm Mr. Bingley's BALLS...