“You seem disappointed, Ursula.”
“Disappointed, brother! not I.”
“You were just now saying that you disliked gorgios, so, of course, could only wish that I, who am a gorgio, should like you in a brotherly way; I wished to have a conversation with you beneath a hedge, but only with the view of procuring from you some information respecting the song which you sung the other day, and the conduct of Roman females, which has always struck me as being highly unaccountable, so, if you thought anything else . . .”
“What else should I expect from a picker-up of old words, brother? Bah! I dislike a picker-up of old words worse than a picker-up of old rags.”
“Don’t be angry, Ursula, I feel a great interest in you; you are very handsome, and very clever; indeed, with your beauty and cleverness, I only wonder that you have not long since been married.”
“Yes. However, keep up your spirits, Ursula, you are not much past the prime of youth, so . . .”
“Not much past the prime of youth! Don’t be uncivil, brother; I was only twenty-two last month.”
“Don’t be offended, Ursula, but twenty-two is twenty-two, or I should rather say, that twenty-two in a woman is more than twenty-six in a man. You are still very beautiful, but I advise you to accept the first offer that’s made to you.”
“Thank you, brother, but your advice comes rather late; I accepted the first offer that was made me five years ago.”