Dürer. He is blowing the battle-trumpet.
Gryn. And you were blowing on a goblet when you painted this.
Vel. On the contrary, he was blowing into a bag made of skin. For elsewhere you have made him hairy, whilst you have scarcely painted any eyelashes.
Dürer. They have fallen off by disease.
Gryn. What was the disease?
Dürer. Seek that from his physician!
Gryn. Don’t you understand now that you must take off from your price one hundred sesterces for such lack of skill?
Dürer. Nay, for your cavils and bothersome questions I ought rather to add two hundred sesterces to the price.
Vel. You have made the pupils of the eyes grayish and I have heard that Scipio’s were blue.