I answer, No; do it but for a fortnight, and you never will have occasion to think of it more.  Take but half the pains to recover the countenance that nature gave you, that you must have taken to disguise and deform it as you have, and the business will be done.  Accustom your eyes to a certain softness, of which they are very capable, and your face to smiles, which become it more than most faces I know.  Give all your motions, too, an air of ‘douceur’, which is directly the reverse of their present celerity and rapidity.  I wish you would adopt a little of ’l’air du Couvent’ (you very well know what I mean) to a certain degree; it has something extremely engaging; there is a mixture of benevolence, affection, and unction in it; it is frequently really sincere, but is almost always thought so, and consequently pleasing.  Will you call this trouble?  It will not be half an hour’s trouble to you in a week’s time.  But suppose it be, pray tell me, why did you give yourself the trouble of learning to dance so well as you do?  It is neither a religious, moral, or civil duty.  You must own, that you did it then singly to please, and you were, in the right on’t.  Why do you wear fine clothes, and curl your hair?  Both are troublesome; lank locks, and plain flimsy rags are much easier.  This then you also do in order to please, and you do very right.  But then, for God’s sake, reason and act consequentially; and endeavor to please in other things too, still more essential; and without which the trouble you have taken in those is wholly thrown away.  You show your dancing, perhaps six times a year, at most; but you show your countenance and your common motions every day, and all day.  Which then, I appeal to yourself, ought you to think of the most, and care to render easy, graceful, and engaging?  Douceur of countenance and gesture can alone make them so.  You are by no means ill-natured; and would you then most unjustly be reckoned so?  Yet your common countenance intimates, and would make anybody who did not know you, believe it.  ‘A propos’ of this, I must tell you what was said the other day to a fine lady whom you know, who is very good-natured in truth, but whose common countenance implies ill-nature, even to brutality.  It was Miss H——­n, Lady M—­y’s niece, whom you have seen both at Blackheath and at Lady Hervey’s.  Lady M—­y was saying to me that you had a very engaging countenance when you had a mind to it, but that you had not always that mind; upon which Miss H——­n said, that she liked your countenance best, when it was as glum as her own.  Why then, replied Lady M—­y, you two should marry; for while you both wear your worst countenances, nobody else will venture upon either of you; and they call her now Mrs. Stanhope.  To complete this ‘douceur’ of countenance and motions, which I so earnestly recommend to you, you should carry it also to your expressions and manner of thinking, ’mettez y toujours de l’affectueux de l’onction’; take the gentle, the favorable, the indulgent side of most