Lord Byron’s Box, Redux (The Darcys in Venice, Chapter 28)

As the golden song faded with the end of the first act and the curtain was drawn, Lydia sprawled along the velvet railing of the box, crushing her bosom against it. “Lizzy,” she said pettishly, “That girl is no prettier than I am, and she squeals too high when she sings.”

Elizabeth was surprised. “Why, she is La Righetti, and has the highest reputation as a soprano.”

“Soprano? Is that why she shrieks so? Righetti, Spaghetti. But tell me, Lizzy, really, I do think I could do as well, or better. ...