Hen. Because I hate these empty shows. What are all these receptions but one maze of dissipation, where everybody seems to outdo the other in silliness?
Reg. I agree with you there, Henry. There are many sins and much hypocrisy and deceit practiced under the veil of studied politeness, and the sacred bond of friendship becomes a mere matter of form to further the ends of frivolous and sordid desires.
Hen. And the women! All deception, heartless, fickle. Show me a woman in this gilded age of fashion devoid of fashion’s impress—devoid of—
Reg. Nay, Henry! You are prejudiced—all women are not so. There are still many who possess all the noble attributes that Heaven instilled in her heart, that make her all that is beautiful and endearing in the eyes of a true man.
Hen. Yes; but artificial show has supplanted her—I know not the ideal.
Reg. Aye! but I know one.
Hen. And she is—
Reg. Your sister Adrienne!
Hen. Oho! I understand. Ha! ha! ha! Well, well, there’s my hand on it. I give in. There is no one in the wide world that I would be more pleased to call brother.
Reg. [Confused.] You misunderstand—you—