Loveyet. You extol her in very rapturous strains, George—I hope you have not been smitten by her vast perfections, like the Cherubims.
Frankton. I am really enraptur'd with the bewitching little Goddess!
Loveyet. Do you positively think her so much superior to the generality of women?
Frankton. Most indubitably I do—don't you, pray?
Loveyet. I thought her handsome once—but—but—but you certainly are not in love with her.
Frankton. Not I, faith. Ha, ha, ha. My enamorata and yours are two distinct persons, I assure you—and two such beauties!—By all that's desirable, if there was only one more in the city who could vie with the lovely girls, and boast of the same elegantly proportioned forms; the same beauty, delicacy and symmetry of features; the same celestial complexion, in which the lily and carnation are equally excell'd; the same——
Loveyet. Oh, monstrous! Why, they exceed all the Goddesses I ever heard of, by your account.
Frankton. Well, if you had let me proceed, I should have told you that if one more like them could be found in town, they would make a more beautiful triple than the three renowned goddesses who were candidates for beauty and a golden apple long ago; but no matter now.—The account you have given of the lovely Harriet, has rekindled the flame she so early inspir'd me with, and I already feel myself all the lover; how then shall I feel, when I once more behold the dear maid, like the mother of mankind—"with grace in all her steps, heaven in her eye; in every gesture, dignity and love!"
Frankton. Aye—and what do you think of your father's sending for you to marry you to this same beautiful piece of mortality?
Loveyet. Is it possible? Then I am happy indeed! But this surpasses my most sanguine hopes!