Nothing In His Life Became

You Peasant Swain! You Whoreson Malt-horse Drudge!

No Visor Does Become Black Villainy So Well As Soft And Tender Flattery.

I Have Heard Of Your Paintings Too, Well Enough; God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourselves Another.

Not Stepping Over The Bounds Of Modesty.

Sweets To The Sweet.