HAR. Does she?
FRO. I should like you to hear her talk on that subject; she cannot
bear at all the sight of a young man, and nothing delights her more
than to see a fine old man with a venerable beard. The oldest are to
her the most charming, and I warn you beforehand not to go and make
yourself any younger than you really are. She wishes for one sixty
years old at least; and it is not more than six months ago that on the
very eve of being married she suddenly broke off the match on learning
that her lover was only fifty-six years of age, and did not put on
spectacles to sign the contract.
HAR. Only for that?
FRO. Yes; she says there is no pleasure with a man of fifty-six; and
she has a decided affection for those who wear spectacles.
HAR. Well, this is quite new to me.
FRO. No one can imagine how far she carries this. She has in her room
a few pictures and engravings, and what do you imagine they are? An
Adonis, a Cephalus, a Paris, an Apollo? Not a bit of it! Fine
portraits of Saturn, of King Priam, of old Nestor, and of good father
Anchises on his son's shoulders.
HAR. That's admirable. I should never have guessed such a thing; and I
am very pleased to hear that she has such taste as this. Indeed had I
been a woman, I should never have loved young fellows.
FRO. I should think not. Fine trumpery indeed, these young men, for
any one to fall in love with.
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