As if we needed another reminder of the endless search for youth, especially among women: from the 1700 play The Way of the World, by William Congreve:
"I article, that you continue to like your own face, as long as I shall, and while it passes current with me, that you endeavor not to new-coin it. To which end, together with all the vizards for the day, I prohibit all masks for the night, made of oiled-skins, and I know not what - hogs' bones, hares' gall, pig-water, and the marrow of a roasted cat."
No comments:
Post a Comment