HAR. Who? I?

FRO. Never have I seen you looking more rosy, more hearty.

HAR. Are you in earnest?

FRO. Why! you have never been so young in your life; and I know many a
man of twenty-five who looks much older than you do.

HAR. And yet, Frosine, I have passed threescore.

FRO. Threescore! Well, and what then? You don't mean to make a trouble
of that, do you? It's the very flower of manhood, the threshold of the
prime of life.

HAR. True; but twenty years less would do me no harm, I think.

FRO. Nonsense! You've no need of that, and you are of a build to last
out a hundred.

HAR. Do you really think so?

FRO. Decidedly. You have all the appearance of it. Hold yourself up a
little. Ah! what a sign of long life is that line there straight
between your two eyes!

HAR. You know all about that, do you?

FRO. I should think I do. Show me your hand. [Footnote: Frosine
professes a knowledge of palmistry.] Dear me, what a line of life