If Mr.Jones of 1919 brags the same every one knows it's because he can't kiss her any more.

Given a decent start any girl can beat a man nowadays.
GILLESPIE: Then why do you play with men?
ROSALIND: (Leaning forward confidentially) For that first moment, when he's interested.

There is a moment--Oh, just before the first kiss, a whispered word--something that makes it worth while.
GILLESPIE: And then?
ROSALIND: Then after that you make him talk about himself.

Pretty soon he thinks of nothing but being alone with you--he sulks, he won't fight, he doesn't want to play--Victory! (Enter DAWSON RYDER, twenty-six, handsome, wealthy, faithful to his own, a bore perhaps, but steady and sure of success.) RYDER: I believe this is my dance, Rosalind.
ROSALIND: Well, Dawson, so you recognize me.

Now I know I haven't got too much paint on.