"There is nothing in the world which doth more beautifie and adorne a woman than chearfulness, contentment, and good temper. For it is not the red and white which giveth the gracious perfection of beauty, but certaine sparkling notes and touches of amiable chearfulness accompanying the same. The truth whereof may appear in a discontented woman, otherwise exceeding faire, who atte that instant will seem yll favoured and unloovely; as contrariwise, an hard-favoured and browne woman, being merry, pleasaunte, and jocund, will seem sufficient beautiful."
[16] Of this figure he thus writes in his chapter on Compositions with the Serpentine Line:—
"We have had recourse to the works of the ancients, not because the moderns have not produced some as excellent, but because the works of the former are more generally known; nor would we have it thought that either of them has ever yet come up to the utmost beauty of nature. Who but a bigot to the antiques will say, that he has not seen faces and necks, hands and arms, in living women, that even the Grecian Venus doth but coarsely imitate?"
[17] Hogarth might possibly have some oblique allusion to the manner in which Cæsar suffered in the capitol of an English theatre.—They might as well have hanged him; or, the actor deserved hanging for so personating the character,—which the reader likes best.
In an early impression of the print I have seen written (I believe by Hogarth) on the pedestal upon which this figure is placed, tu Brute. That he greatly disliked Quin, is evident from the following epigram, with the injustice or justice of which I have nothing to do, but to the painter it is attributed:—
"Your servant, Sir," says surly Quin.—
"Sir, I am yours," replies Macklin.—
"Why, you're the very Jew you play,
Your face performs the task well."—
"And you are Sir John Brute, they say,