The name of
this expeditious workman was Avarice.
Not far from this artist I saw another of a quite different nature,
who was dressed in the habit of a Dutchman, and known by the name of
Industry. His figures were wonderfully laboured. If he drew the
portraiture of a man, he did not omit a single hair in his face; if
the figure of a ship, there was not a rope among the tackle that
escaped him. He had likewise hung a great part of the wall with
night-pieces, that seemed to show themselves by the candles which
were lighted up in several parts of them; and were so inflamed by
the sunshine which accidentally fell upon them, that at first sight
I could scarce forbear crying out "Fire!"
The five foregoing artists were the most considerable on this side
the gallery; there were indeed several others whom I had not time to
look into. One of them, however, I could not forbear observing, who
was very busy in retouching the finest pieces, though he produced no
originals of his own. His pencil aggravated every feature that was
before overcharged, loaded every defect, and poisoned every colour
it touched. Though this workman did so much mischief on the side of
the living, he never turned his eye towards that of the dead. His
name was Envy.
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