Scene III. Mr. Friendly's House.
Enter Harriet and Maria.
Harriet. Pray, Maria, how were you entertained at the Assembly last night?
Maria. Very indifferently, I assure you, my dear: You know, Harriet, I do most cordially hate dancing at any time; but what must one do with one's self these irksome, heavy, dreary Winters? If it were not for cards, visits to and from, and——
Harriet. Assemblies.
Maria. Yes, as my last resource, Assemblies, I should absolutely be in a state of despair before Spring.—Then one may take an excursion on York or Long-Island—an agreeable sail on the East-River—a walk in the Broadway, Pharisee-like, to be seen of men, and—to see them—and then how refreshing to take a negligent stroll on the Battery, the Fort, the Mall, and from thence to Miss Such-a-one, then to Mrs. Such-a-one, then to Lady What's-her-name, and then home;—but now I am half of my time as motionless as Pitt's statue; as petrified and inanimate as an Egyptian mummy, or rather frozen snake, who crawls out of his hole now and then in this season to bask in the rays of the sun.
Harriet. And whenever the sunshine of Mr. Frankton's eyes breaks upon you, you revive.
Maria. Pshaw—I wish you had Mr. Frankton yourself, since you are so full of his sweet image.
Harriet. I'm sure you did not wish so last night: Your eyes seem'd to say,—I wish I could secure the good-for-nothing, agreeable rake.
Maria. Oh, you heard my eyes say so, did you? I ask pardon of your penetration.